Archive of Our Own

Five times Buck steals Eddie’s clothes and one time Eddie gives them to him.

-

Buck’s always been an incredibly affectionate child. 

Maddie tells him that he used to bundle himself underneath her hoodies or try to crawl inside all of her jackets just to be closer to her — as a baby he adored skin to skin contact, she found it would put him to sleep easily when his cheek was pressed against her own.

Although others will say he needs verbal affirmation (he does have a huge praise kink), craves it like the last biscuit in the tin or the final slice of pizza in a box. He also needs physical reassurance too — a tight hug, a squeeze on the shoulder; something that reassures him that the people he loves are still there with him. It’s why he latches onto pieces of those he loves. For Buck, there’s nothing more comforting than surrounding himself in the familiar scent of someone he cares about.

As a child he tried to do it with his mother, he’d bundle himself in the shoulder of one of the many cardigans she wore that had lingering traces of her perfume, but it always seemed that he was kept at arms length half the time — physically and emotionally.

Mainly it was just Maddie, especially when she went away, she would always leave one of her jackets behind that he would wear whenever his parents’ words hit too hard and he would be sent to his room with a growling stomach and dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

Even now, as an adult, he still does it. The jacket that Maddie had left him so many years ago that he brought with him when he escaped in his jeep had lost all of her smell — now instead it was a reminder of his sister, a hug of denim that no longer fit him but still gave him some scrap of comfort that she was still out there and she still loved him, despite the lack of contact.

It dropped off when he took off in his jeep, he never stayed in places long enough to form tight bonds with people. Instead, his relationships were filled with either polite smiles, brief handshakes, or a fumble of clothes in the dark with bruising fingertips and crushed lips — nothing lasted. 

That is until he arrived at the 118.

And maybe this is what he had been searching for the whole time.

All of a sudden, he was doing the same things he would do as a child. One time he wore something of Bobby’s. He had just lost someone on a call and nothing was helping. Nothing until he pulled on Bobby’s sweatshirt hanging over the back of the station couch, surprisingly big enough on him, which had some sort of hockey team on the front. Buck never kept up with any sport, not having the luxury of watching TV much when he was younger. When Bobby came out of his office, Buck tensed in anticipation waiting for some biting words, a mocking laugh or worse — to be told to take it off. But Bobby only sighed and gave him a look, albeit filled with fondness, with the demand that ‘ you better not stretch that, it’s my favourite.’ It filled a part of him that was never completed as a child, and later another piece was put in place when Bobby introduced him to hockey — he didn’t care for the sport still, but the days he would watch games with Bobby were ones he always looked forward to.

He did it with Abby.

Chim and Hen couldn’t stop laughing one shift when Buck came into the station on a cold morning bundled up in a bobbled hat and long woolly scarf, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. The scarf was some obnoxious thing, a bright flamingo pink with long tassels hanging off the end, it was Abby’s who had fretted about the cold morning when driving Buck to work that day. A smile pulled across his lips when he watched her fuss and wrap the scarf around his bare neck, taking it from around her own with a murmur of not catching a chill.

The smile had remained on his lips as he entered the station, the scent of Abby brushing underneath his nose; a distinct smell of jasmine from the shampoo she used. Chim and Hen ribbed him all day but it all bounced off of him, too wrapped up in his girlfriend and her bright scarf, Bobby was suspiciously quiet — like he knew the reason for Buck’s bright smile — and a fond expression never left his face for the entire shift.

Nevertheless, Buck likes to wear things, to wrap himself in the comfort of someone he loves in whatever way possible — even if they’re not there.

He wonders why he doesn’t notice the shift, when the comfort he seeks ends up coming from one specific person.

i.

Eddie notices that Buck always runs cold, it’s something he realises after the ladder truck incident. He hadn’t allowed himself to think too hard about Buck before it happened, rather he chose to move all his thoughts of Evan Buckley to the back of his mind — especially, after the return of Shannon. But even after she was gone, the Evan Buckley box of thoughts and feelings stayed safely locked and tucked away.

Then the ladder truck happened and it was like the box had sprung a leak and cracked itself wide open.

Suddenly Eddie was noticing everything about Buck.

He notices when they’re at one of their many family functions and Buck gets this despondent look in his eye whilst watching all the families around them, the way his face tightens and his eyes linger on his casted leg with contempt. He knows when Buck doesn’t feel his best mentally he stops responding to Eddie’s messages and allows his kitchen to become overgrown with messy containers and dirty dishes. 

But he also notices when Buck is at his happiest. When Bobby would give him a compliment and reassure him that his family is waiting for him at the station to get better, when Maddie gives him one of her squeezing hugs, when Christopher beats him at one of his very many video games — the brilliant smile that lights up Buck’s face is one that Eddie’s etched into his mind like a painted portrait that’ll remain remembered throughout history. 

And he notices the look that Buck gets whenever he’s with Eddie, especially when Eddie fusses, the glossy, wet eyes and the wondrous smile like he can’t fathom that Eddie wants to take care of him. 

Most of all he notices the lack of warmth in the firehouse without Buck there it’s like a missing limb which has left the whole team feeling off-balanced. Occasionally, Eddie will notice Hen move to share an exasperated expression with the empty chair next to Eddie only to draw herself back last minute, how Chim would laugh at a funny joke and then deflate when he realises Buck’s snorting laughter wasn’t joining in, how Bobby looks more lost in the kitchen then he’s ever seen him like the fun has been sucked out of making family meals when the whole family can’t be there. Everyone is experiencing the phantom pain from the absence of Buck, a dull ache that will flare at an unfortunate time.

Eddie is just glad that Buck isn’t completely out of his life, the pain of that on top of Shannon would almost be too much for him to bear.

(Even the presence of Christopher would’ve struggled to pull Eddie out from the depths of his mind.)

Ever since the ladder truck Eddie’s need to check up on Buck has only increased — which is why the lack of response from Buck is so worrying. It was his day off, something he hadn’t had in a while with all the shift changes due to Buck’s absence and it had fallen on a Tuesday. Chris was at school and Eddie wanted to be with Buck, deciding that he had waited long enough, and knowing that the pit of worry wasn’t going to clear until he saw the man himself, Eddie grabbed his car keys and drove to Buck’s loft.

Both of them had exchanged keys after the incident. Buck prompted by Eddie who had wanted Buck to know that Eddie’s place was always somewhere Buck could come to if he ever needed.

“Buck?” Eddie calls out as he opens the door. He looks around at the empty loft noting the ruffled sheets on the sofa and the empty takeout containers littering the kitchen counter. Eddie frowns — Buck normally hates mess, his loft looking pristine and tidy every time he’s round. The sight of the mess in front of him worries him a little more, the signs are pointing towards Buck having one of his worser days.

The apartment is cold as if no one has been there for a while and so with an even heavier heart than what he arrived with, he heads back to his own house. 

Eddie’s more nervous, the familiar feeling of anxiety spiking in his chest as he paces his living room contemplating whether to call Maddie and Bobby. His finger is hovering over Maddie’s contact when he hears a light snorting sound from inside his bedroom — with a furrowed brow and slow steps, he makes his way towards the noise.

All worry is knocked out of him by the sight in front of him, but he does jolt in surprise.

Buck is snuggled up on his bed wrapped in one of his army sweatshirts that’s tight around his bulging muscles and yet Buck’s managed to pull the sleeves over his hands — sweater paws as Hen called them one day whilst looking down at a sleeping Buck wrapped in one of Bobby’s hoodies. It’s adorable. There’s a furrow in his brow and a pinch to his face that suggests he’s still having trouble sleeping, it makes Eddie’s eyes flit to the casted leg propped up on one of Eddie’s pillows.

It makes something in Eddie’s heart ache because he wants this every night, someone to come home to like this. Something tiny wriggles in the back of his mind, a small voice saying that he doesn’t just want someone — he wants Buck.

The creaking of the floorboards from the hallway causes Buck’s eyes to flash open reaffirming Eddie’s suspicion that Buck wasn’t fully asleep.

“Hi,” Eddie says as he watches Buck struggle to sit up, he moves closer to help him. Buck lets him, with a mumbled-out greeting back.

No matter how much Eddie wants to, he doesn’t let his touch loiter, instead he moves a little away from Buck to get a better look at him running his eyes over Buck’s worn-out face and mussed-up curls. He looks so much younger like this, vulnerable, innocent, and sleep-worn.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for the past two hours,” Eddie says with a tilt of his head and a scrunched nose. “Where were you?”

Buck looks apologetic and blinks, wildly. “My phone ran out of charge, I went to Maddie’s for a bit and then came here.” He rubs at his tired eyes with one fisted hand.

Eddie tries to suppress a smile that Buck came to him. “Why are you here?” He finds himself asking.

Buck looks a little unsure, which is the last thing that Eddie wants. “You gave me a key, right?”

“I’m glad you used it,” Eddie says, quickly.

Buck deflates in relief and a small smile grows on his pale face. It makes Eddie notice how tired Buck looks, there are dark circles under his eyes, his face lacks any colour and there’s a drooping in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

“I just didn’t want to be alone,” Buck admits, fiddling with the cuffs of Eddie’s sweater then letting them fall back to cover his hands again.

“You’re always welcome here, Buck,” Eddie reassures.

Buck’s head dips down, his pillow-creased cheeks go slightly pink as he sways in the bed. Eddie reaches out a hand to steady him.

“You need to sleep,” he says, quietly.

Buck grumbles but doesn’t choose to argue with Eddie, he even allows him to help him lie down and pull the covers over him, his arms remain outside and Eddie lets his eyes rest on the ends of the sweater where Buck’s hands are hidden by Eddie’s clothing. They don’t rest there for long though, he doesn’t want Buck feeling embarrassed for wearing his clothes. In fact, he’s delighted that Buck’s sought some form of comfort from him (even if it’s not from Eddie himself) and if this allows Buck to feel even a smidgen better, Eddie will gladly empty out his drawers to give to Buck. 

He fusses over the covers one more time, making sure Buck’s comfortable before moving to get off the bed wanting to give Buck the space he needs to fall asleep, hoping that some of the bags will be removed once he does. A hand shoots out from under the confines of green fabric to latch onto Eddie’s wrist before he can go very far.

“Will you stay?” Buck’s voice is tiny, soft, and vulnerable like it’s taking everything in him right now to say those words to Eddie and staring into Buck’s bleary, slow blinking eyes makes him soften, turns something inside of him gooey. In this moment, Eddie would give Buck anything he wants.

“Move over,” Eddie whispers not wanting to break the moment they’re captured in.

Buck slides to the spot in the bed furthest away from the door and it hits Eddie how he didn’t even need to say which side of the bed was his. Eddie helps to get the pillow situated under Buck’s bad leg again leaving a lingering caress across his exposed ankle, which causes a gentle smile to appear on Buck’s face.

Eddie’s careful when he joins Buck on the bed — not yet feeling tired himself — laying on top of the covers and shuffling as close to Buck as he can get without the fear of hurting him.

Buck surprises him again, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist (the sweater paws flapping around) and placing his head in Eddie’s lap.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, fondly, scraping his fingers along the back of Buck’s ears, the nape of his neck. Buck presses his face into Eddie’s stomach and takes a deep shuddering breath, his arms tightening around Eddie’s waist like he’s afraid Eddie will pull away from him. 

“You’re okay,” Eddie echoes.

ii.

The next time it happens Eddie would love to say he was more prepared for it, but he wasn’t. After everything that happened with the tsunami, the lawsuit and… everything else. Eddie honestly thought he would never be greeted with this sight again. 

Those few weeks he was without Buck, unable to make any contact with him broke something inside Eddie. A piece of himself that he’d blindly given to Buck was slowly chipped away and he hates how much he understood what Buck truly meant to him after he was gone.

However, they’re back on track and Buck and Eddie were once again BuckandEddie.

After the well incident, he doesn’t know how he would’ve survived it if not for his son (of course) and the promise of Buck on the surface waiting for him to come back to him.

It’s like he can still feel the weight of the mud that fell on top of him, desperate to crush him underneath it. Those moments when he was under the water, could feel the biting chill of the liquid seeping into his lungs and stealing the breath out of him; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more helpless, not even when he was being pinned down by enemy soldiers during the helicopter crash.

It’s the nightmares that wake him up, but it’s the eerie silence (the lack of Buck’s loud presence — everyone knows he snores, despite the blond’s protests) that makes him get out of bed.

Buck’s in the kitchen with his head in his hands and one of Eddie’s zip-ups wrapped around his lightly shivering form, his bare chest exposed underneath — a sliver of one of Buck’s tattoos on show. It’s one of his warmer ones, a rich burgundy colour it’s an expensive one, he thinks, one of his sisters got it for him with the insistence to expand his wardrobe of colour — ‘black and grey aren’t the only colours in the world, Edmundo.’

Eddie wants to creep closer and zip up the material, smother Buck in warmth.

“I thought you were asleep,” Buck jumps at the sound his elbow banging on the table as he’s dragged out of his deep thoughts, it makes Eddie frown in concern and look at the other man apologetically.“You okay?”

Buck nods, almost despondently, mumbling out a quick ‘yes,’ as he rubs at his elbow.

“Why are you up?” Eddie asks, taking a seat beside him and swinging around so he can face Buck.

Buck looks up for the first time to glance at Eddie, his eyes red-rimmed, “I couldn’t sleep.” His eyes flit around the room looking a little lost. “Thought I’d…” he trails off and waves dimly around the kitchen, it’s as he does that Eddie notices the red marks around Buck’s hands.

“Sit here alone?” Eddie finishes, picking up Buck’s hands to look at the damage.

Buck shrugs. “I guess.”

Eddie tuts as he inspects the wounds on Buck’s hands, red raw and scraped — his fingernails have been chewed slightly too. “How did this happen?” He tries not to broadcast his worry out loud but he’s pretty sure it’s obvious, displaying itself like some billboard with big flashing lights. But the last time Eddie had wounds like this, he was part of a fight club.

Buck’s expression closes off and he tries to pull his hand away. “Eddie…”

Eddie grips onto Buck’s hands tighter not allowing him to pull away, he feels lost right now like the ground has shifted out from underneath him. He’s never been able to not read Buck before and he doesn’t know what to do about it, something tugs at the back of his mind, a small voice in his head saying that Buck is hurting and you can’t help him.

“Buck,” Eddie begs. “Please talk to me.”

Buck gets a faraway look in his eye and hesitates. “Eddie,” his voice breaks. “You almost died.”

Eddie presses his fingers into Buck’s wrist feeling his pulse under his fingertips. “But I didn’t.”

“I thought you were dead,” Buck snaps, refusing to look at Eddie, “and I tried to dig you out with my bare hands.”

Eddie reels back in shock, his mouth widening slightly. “Buck,” Eddie responds, with a lost look. “I… I didn’t think, I’m…”

Buck pulls his hands away, gently this time, and runs them over his cloth-covered arms — now bringing the zip-up to cover his body like a fabric-tainted hug. Eddie wants to replace it with his arms, to give Buck the comfort he truly craves. Buck may not know it, but Eddie notices how Buck chooses to wrap himself in other people’s clothes when he’s feeling most alone and in need of comfort, like he’s too afraid to ask people for the real thing even when they’re so willing to give it to him. Eddie wants to curse the Buckley parents for making their son feel that he has to work to get any affection or love.

Eddie never allowed himself to think about the effect the well incident may have had on those around him, especially Buck, he never imagined someone could care for him that much — his relationship with Shannon ended up being one of mutually assured destruction from the moment Christopher was born, both lost on how to help the other; Eddie with his PTSD and Shannon with her overwhelming thoughts.

But Eddie knows how Buck’s feeling now even from his closed-off expression (this is a Buck he can read), can even taste the hints of desperation seeping off Buck on his tongue. Whilst Buck was up there, crawling on wet dirt screaming for Eddie with no knowledge of whether he’s okay; Eddie was underneath screaming for help, for Buck, for someone to know he was alive down there. 

Although, they were separated during the incident, they suffered together.

Eddie knows that helplessness, the desperation in witnessing your partner in need of help and being unable to give it to them. Sometimes if Eddie closes his eyes, he can still see Buck bleeding out on the asphalt with a firetruck crushing his leg — eyes pitiful, limbs weak and his whole body one swift kick away from giving out. Eddie couldn’t help him that night, all he could do was watch as the bomber got closer to Buck and Buck began to fade. He was powerless and it was something Eddie never wanted Buck to feel. But he realises now that the well incident was just like the ladder truck and just like Eddie, Buck’s struggling to let that go, to shake it off and realise that Eddie is here, he’s alive. 

“Every time I close my eyes,” Buck says, closing his eyes as if to show him. “It’s like you’re gone again.”

Buck shakes from underneath Eddie’s hands, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s afraid that if he opens them again — Eddie will be gone this time.

Eddie doesn’t feel like sharing his own trauma and occasional nightmares surrounding Buck’s ladder truck incident right now. Despite how similar their situations were, adding on to Buck’s already crushing guilt would only serve to sink him deeper into self-agony and he never wants to make it harder for Buck. Instead, he leans forward, “I’m right here, Buck,” he moves one of Buck’s hands to place it on his chest over where his heartbeat is. “I’m right here,” he repeats, Eddie can do this. He can give Buck the physical reassurance he aches for shivering in the empty confines of Eddie’s clothing.

Buck’s hand curls into Eddie’s sleep shirt, a bit tighter than normal.

Eddie nudges him, “Come on let’s go to bed.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.” He stands up, only to be met with Eddie’s expectant eyes and outstretched hand. Buck stares at it for a few moments before a small, grateful smile graces his features and he clasps his hand into Eddie’s.

Eddie slots their fingers together and drags Buck towards his bedroom where he manhandles Buck into the bed. Eddie sidles up next to him and pulls Buck towards him onto his chest. Buck’s head rests above Eddie’s chest right on his heartbeat again.

“I’m right here,” he reassures, squeezing his arms tighter around Buck.

“Eddie,” Buck whispers in relief. “Thank you,” he lets out a long shaky breath, the first proper one since the well, and finally allows himself to relax; to let sleep claim him.

iii.

Eddie doesn’t want to pace, but it’s a close thing as he waits for a text from Buck. Despite Eddie’s reluctance, he knows that Buck needed to go see Abby for some closure at least.

It doesn’t help to soothe the crashing surge of protectiveness flaring inside him that’s telling him to grip Buck in his arms and shield him from anything to do with Abby.

Ever since the train crash, over a week ago, where Buck had come face to face with Abby for the first time in two years, Eddie had a sinking feeling in this stomach — like the reemergence of Abby was going to do more harm than good.

Eddie’s heard so many different stories from different sources about Abby, even some from Buck himself. 

To begin with, he was sat down by the rest of the team who told him that Abby was the reason for Buck’s bratty and defensive behaviour towards him. (Rather than Eddie himself.) Girlfriend troubles, they had said, well ex-girlfriend problems, they added. Everyone was walking around on eggshells around Buck who hadn’t come to terms with the fact that Abby wasn’t coming back and their relationship had been over since they’d parted at the airport.

It was one evening when they were a little past the way of tipsy, sipping on room-temperature beers and lolling on Eddie’s couch — a sleeping Christopher put to bed a few hours ago. Buck had turned to look at Eddie with a particular melancholic look on his face and admitted that he was missing Abby. It had made Eddie’s face tighten in anger and also sympathy for his friend, who had finally come to terms with Abby leaving and moved out of her apartment only a few days ago. It doesn’t mean that Buck felt any less unmoored though, any less haunted by the memory of her. That night Eddie was given a key to a door in Buck’s mind he usually kept locked for others, it was intense, deep, and the beginning of many more late-night conversations. 

Something shifted between them that night with Buck’s honesty and Eddie’s reassurances that his family (including Eddie and Chris) weren’t going anywhere.

Buck’s been doing so well, in regards to Abby, and he barely thinks about her anymore. Just that morning, before the train derailment, Buck had been pouting around the idea that he may not get to see Christopher for two weeks — much to Eddie’s fond exasperation. In all honesty, Eddie loves the relationship Buck had created with his son, the connection they both have with one another is something Eddie didn’t expect, his kid was friendly but he had never latched onto someone so quickly as he did Buck. 

Like father like son, he guesses.

It’s why the return of Abby has Eddie so worried, it could set Buck back and reawaken the feelings of abandonment Eddie had worked so hard to keep away from Buck’s wandering mind.

It’s been radio silence since Buck texted him last night letting him know that he decided to agree to meet Abby that morning. Eddie has been able to keep himself occupied making sure Chris was up for his last day, dressed and fed. His kid a ball of energy and excitement, reciting a mile a minute how much he was looking forward to going away to summer camp for two weeks. Eddie’s still unsure, but the sight of Christopher looking so happy does enough to settle his nerves. (Only a a little though.)

He receives the text as he’s dropping Christopher off at school, waving at Chris’ turned back at the time he feels his pocket vibrate.

Buck: It’s done. At yours.

Eddie doesn’t speed, but it’s a close thing, as he drives back to his house. 

(He can just picture Buck’s voice in his head — ‘finally you’re not driving like a grandpa.’)

When Eddie gets home, shutting the door a little too hard, toeing off his shoes, and chucking his keys somewhere — he’ll find them later — he gets to his bedroom to find Buck sobbing on his bed, big heaves of his chest and silent hitches as tears stream down his face. It’s the vacancy in his eyes that scares him the most. The usual vibrant blue eyes that glitter with joy currently lack anything.

Eddie stumbles at his door before righting himself and rushing to the bed. “Buck?”

Buck flinches and raises his head, pulling himself out from beneath his arms. “Eds?” He sniffs, as he quickly sits up to face Eddie — his body relaxing slightly, in relief, as if he’s been waiting for Eddie this entire time. “You’re here.”

“What happened?” Eddie clenches his jaw, it’s obvious the talk with Abby hadn’t gone well and Eddie hates himself for not trying more to convince Buck not to go.

“She didn’t even apologise for leaving,” Buck sobs out, obvious frustration in his voice. “Just that I found out about Sam that way,” he fists the duvet, knuckles white.

It seems as if isn’t waiting for Eddie to say anything as he rushes on.

“I didn’t even find out why I wasn’t enough for her to stay,” Buck agonises. “Only that she would’ve lost herself if she did.”

Eddie inhales, sharply. “This isn’t on you, Buck, she just left,” he reaches out to squeeze one of Buck’s hands, still gripping onto the sheets. “It wasn’t because of anything you did.”

Buck sucks in a frustrated breath. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way,” he whispers, voice breaking.

Eddie tightens his grip. “Because you have a good heart, an enormously big one and you feel so much,” he emphasises. “You take on so much, Buck, but it’s never been your fault.”

Buck’s wary, he’s drawn away and would be even more if not for Eddie latching onto his hand — stabilising and grounding him in this moment.

“You always want to fix things,” Eddie continues, “but sometimes there are some things that just can’t be fixed.”

At this point, Eddie hesitates he doesn’t want to mention therapy — not when he ran away from it himself, he would be a hypocrite to mention something he was so afraid of and yet probably needed more than most people. However, he feels like this is something that would help Buck; Buck who loves to talk for hours upon end, who Eddie can see wants to express his feelings and have deep conversations like they’re the last drop of coffee in the pot.

“Have you considered maybe going to therapy?” His words are soft, cautious.

Buck flinches. “Department therapy doesn’t work for me.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, there’s more behind the story this isn’t Buck being difficult, that’s fear and shame shining in his eyes.

“Maybe you should look outside of the department?”

Buck looks thoughtful before he turns to meet Eddie’s gaze. “You don’t think that I’m a lost cause, do you?” He asks, earnestly.

Eddie’s expression turns stormy and he gets a certain glint in his eye. “Is that what she said to you?” He demands.

Buck huffs out a breath and it hits Eddie how alike to Christopher he looks right now, affection rushes through as he realises that Christopher probably picked it up from Buck. “No, but it feels that way, Eddie,” Buck implores with one hand on his chest, rubbing where his heart is — the other hand is still gripping onto Eddie’s.

“Buck,” Eddie beseeches, perching on the edge of the bed where Buck is sat. He lets go of Buck’s hand and reaches an arm out to draw Buck in, “I wish you didn’t feel that way, I wish I could take away all those horrible thoughts you have about yourself.”

Buck’s quiet looking at where Eddie’s hand is rested on his shoulder, slowly stroking back and forth.

“All I can say is,” Eddie stresses, “I don’t see you that way, I never have. You’re not a lost cause,” he seems to hesitate, wondering whether he should open up more. He’s always struggled with finding the right words to express himself, getting them out around the lump in his throat that’s been there since he was a young boy and his father forced it into place with strong-armed commands. But for some reason, like Christopher, talking to Buck is one the easiest things he’s ever done. “Honestly, you’re one of the reasons I get up in the morning.”

Buck’s eyes look a little wet, his lip trembles as Eddie’s words wash over him.

Buck takes a deep, shaky breath before letting it out. “Everyone leaves, Eddie…” He trails off and scrunches his forehead so much so that Eddie is afraid he’ll give himself a headache.

“Well, you’re always going to have me and Christopher,” Eddie promises. “Because we’re not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

Eddie grins, indulgently. “I promise,” he squeezes Buck’s hand one more time before he lets go. “Now, come on,” he nudges Buck to stand up. “Let’s go watch a film.”

And as Eddie stands to pull Buck up from the bed, he realises that the t-shirt Buck had put on was one of his own. A muted orange that Eddie hadn’t even realised he still owned. It was old and well-loved, Eddie remembers wearing it when he was laid up in bed after coming back from Afghanistan with ghosts running rampant in his mind and aches all over his body. It looks out of place against Buck’s jeans — but Buck wearing his clothes always feels so right.

Eddie lets his finger linger over the familiar printed words and the hole that’s near one of the armpits, he pokes his finger through it and tickles the side of Buck’s ribs. It makes Buck squirm and let out a choked laugh, a small smile that reaches his eyes appears.

Eddie smiles, a triumphant one of his own. “Ice cream?”

Buck hums looking up at Eddie with his big, watery eyes.

“I recently stocked up,” Eddie entreats.

“Do you have cookie dough?” Buck croaks with a gleam of interest in his eye, Eddie stops himself from gagging at the thought of the overloaded flavour.

“Got two tubs in the freezer.”

“But Mr Vanilla, you hate cookie dough?” Buck says, with a wobble to his smile.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, earnestly, knocking his arm into Buck’s. “But you don’t.”

Buck’s cheeks tinge a slight pink and one of his sunshine smiles lights up his face, this one is real as he follows Eddie into the kitchen.

iv.

Buck stands up swiftly when he hears the sound of the door being unlocked and feet coming into the living room.

Eddie’s eyes move over to Buck, barely blinking as he says with a smile, “Hey, how was he?”

Buck fidgets and stares at Eddie with wide eyes. “Uh- good, yeah just managed to get him down,” he purses his lips. “Took some negotiation,” he admits.

“Yeah?” Eddie says in amusement, his face screams fondness as he listens to Buck and moves into the kitchen, Buck’s confused when he hears the fridge door opening and closing.

A beer is shoved into his hand and Eddie pushes him down beside him on the sofa.

“How was your date?” Buck asks, picking at the beer bottle’s label.

“It was… nice,” Eddie finally says, his eyes intensely staring into Buck’s own.

Buck’s eyebrows raise. “Nice?” He repeats.

Eddie smiles to himself leaning back on the couch with an arm behind his head, “Yeah, it felt good.”

Buck nods to himself. “That’s good,” he says with a strained smile turning away from Eddie again, his body rigid, tightly filled with too much tension. Part of his tension is from the day he’s had, but the other part (a small voice in the back of his mind, that he wants to keep hidden away) doesn’t like the idea of Eddie going on a date, that Eddie may have enjoyed the date. It allows for familiar insecurities to flare up again, niggling thoughts about whether Eddie would leave him, demand he walk away from their ready-made family or perhaps ask him to take a step back at some point. All of the scenarios frighten him, make his chest feel tight and his fingers tingle.

“Are you okay?” Eddie’s sitting up now and ever the expert on the inner-workings of Buck, he should’ve known he could never hide any of his feelings from Eddie.

“My parents didn’t turn up to the therapy session today,” he murmurs, quietly — not willing to admit to the other thing that’s bothering him.

Eddie’s face twists and his lips purse, it looks like Eddie wants to get up and go all the way to Pennsylvania to give the Buckley’s a piece of his mind (like he should’ve when they visited the station.) But Buck doesn’t anger right now, instead Eddie reaches out to grab Buck’s hand and gives him an affectionate look paired with that lovely smile — sometimes Buck believes that this look is reserved only for him and it makes something inside him go warm at the thought.

But then the warmth freezes when he realises that maybe, just maybe Eddie might have given that same look to Ana tonight.

“Forget about them,” Eddie hisses out, fiercely wanting to shake Buck — to get in it into his head that he does matter and he doesn’t need his parents’ approval or anything from them.

“They’re supposed to love me,” Buck replies, blankly as if the emotion has been sucked from him. In a way it has, Buck’s been trying so hard to repair something that’s always going to remain broken (through no fault of his own) it’s no surprise that grown tired — it’s been twenty-nine years of pushing and pleading with no result.

“They’re incapable of it, they don’t understand what they could’ve had with you and they don’t deserve to learn that now.”

Buck gives him a half-smile, fidgeting with his fingers. Eddie’s still worried, he can see the anxiety coursing through Buck, the feeling of self-doubt and fear that Eddie knows all too well from his friend.

Eddie now takes Buck in again and realises that his entire outfit consists of Eddie’s clothing, he recognises the old sweatpants he always wears when he has a lazy day, the material so worn that the cuffs are beginning to thread away. He’s also wearing the shirt Eddie wore to bed the day before — the coffee stain that he spilt on it this morning still there from where he had nearly poured it down himself when Christopher had spooked him. He had forgotten to put it in the wash and instead draped it over his couch, reminding himself to get back to it later. Buck had obviously picked it up and decided to wear it himself and Eddie likes this outcome a lot more.

Everything Buck is wearing is Eddie’s, apart from the socks; Eddie can never understand how Buck’s feet can get as cold as they do. They’re all Buck, bright green with cartoon giraffes scattered along them. Eddie remembers the first time Buck turned up wearing them — he couldn’t stop laughing when Buck pulled off his shoes, only for his heart to melt when Buck tells him that he bought them because they reminded him of Christopher. (That month he had decided giraffes were his favourite animal.) 

“You’re a good father, Eddie,” Buck finally says, after a beat of silence, as Buck processes his words. He taps his fingers against Eddie’s thigh a few times, who welcomes the touch. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Eddie’s eyes crinkle in a smile. “Thank you, Buck,” he says with a hum.

Buck avoids Eddie’s smiling eyes as he says, “Christopher is lucky to have you.”

“To have you too,” Eddie replies, automatically, it makes a light blush appear on Buck’s cheeks. Eddie wants to run a finger over his cheek and feel the heat coming off of it.

Buck looks down before raising his head. “He’s such a great kid,” he breathes out.

“Funny, Ana said something like that tonight as well,” Eddie says, loftily with a throwaway hand - the conversation he had with her still fresh in his mind.

Buck flinches and then rubs at his eyes, making them even redder. Eddie can see the blue, it stands out against the red — but they’ve lost their usual shine and it makes something in Eddie ache for his friend. It’s like a stain of red in a vast, beautiful ocean.

“Maybe we should go to bed?” Eddie suggests causing Buck’s head to snap towards his, a painful look emerges in his eyes.

“I should go,” Buck says, standing up suddenly.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie points out, his eyes wide as he stares up at a jittering Buck.

Buck hesitates before shaking his head. “I should go,” he repeats, grabbing his shoes from the shoe rack and hopping into them, so ungracefully that Eddie’s worried he’ll fall.

Eddie stands up warily and gives him a tight smile, he opens his mouth to try to convince Buck once again but thinks better of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, hopefully.

“Uh-” Buck gives him a weird look. “Yeah… probably.”

Eddie doesn’t know what’s happened and he just wants to latch onto Buck, beg him to stay. Buck stops with a grip on the front door handle and Eddie lets himself hope that Buck has changed his mind and stays.

If only.

Buck turns around at door to give Eddie a small smile, as he says softly, ‘I’m glad your date went well.”

It wasn’t what he expected or wanted to hear.

The sound of the front door shutting, albeit so soft, still feels so loud like it rattles inside of Eddie’s ears and he flinches at how final it sounds.

Eddie knows that he shouldn’t but he misses Buck in his bed.

v.

Eddie was shot, his Eddie was just shot.

It’s like he can still taste the metallic in his mouth, his skin stained with Eddie’s blood. After settling Chris into bed and staying with him until he falls asleep, Buck had taken himself to the bathroom and scrubbed even more at his skin. As he does he’s reminded of the play Macbeth that he’d studied in school, Shakespeare had never really interested him (maybe now as an adult he’d give it another chance), but he much preferred biographies, non-fiction and detective stories. Some things stay stuck in his head though and he finds himself feeling a new understanding for Lady Macbeth as he scrubs his hands even more — just wanting the feeling of the blood. 

Out, out, out.

Buck braces himself against the edges of the porcelain sink breathing heavily, yet quietly — not wanting to wake up Christopher after he’d finally got him down. He hangs his head as he draws in more breaths trying to will his heart and mind to calm down, to realise that everything may be okay rather than spiralling.

His hands clench more against the sink and if it were made of weaker material, Buck would be afraid of cracking it. It would reaffirm his parents belief that he breaks everything he touches, despite Maddie and now the firefam’s protests, a small part of him holds onto his parents words.

But doesn’t every child?

The only memories he has of them talking to him is through shouting or half-hearted warnings that the world was uncertain and he must learn to protect himself. Well he tried doing that and it didn’t work.

Eddie is hurt, lying in a hospital bed. Alone.

Buck forces another breath out lifting his head up to meet his own gaze in the mirror. Is it bad that he’s looked worse? There’s still left over steam from where he had a hot shower and he swipes his hand over it to reveal more of his face.

There’s nothing behind his eyes, no emotion — it’s just vacant. His lips are chapped and bitten, rubbed raw and bloody along the bottom. He runs his tongue along it to wipe it away and freezes at the taste of iron in his mouth, his hands tremble on the edges of the sink. He continues to stare at himself in the mirror, blinking slow and painfully. His blonde curls hang limp, some of them curling across his forehead and around his ears. He’s pale, more than usual making the redness of his birthmark stand out stark against his skin. The only other colour is from the cuts and bruises he got from having to take cover — things that’ll fade physically, but always remain cemented in his mind. 

He looks like he’s grieving…

Buck needs to get out of here.

He enters Eddie’s bedroom slowly, not wanting to step over the threshold when there’s no promise of Eddie joining him later.

However, draped over the end of the bed is one of Eddie’s hoodies, Buck’s drawn to it like nothing else in the room — completely forgetting what he’d originally come in for.

It almost makes him sob when he brings the fabric over his head - the smell of Eddie encompassing him, the traces of his aftershave (the one Buck had convinced him to get one time despite the price) and something that’s purely Eddie.

He breathes it in.

It smells like home and he barely holds in another sob when he remembers that his home is currently lying laid up in a hospital bed with a tube stuck in his throat and a gaping hole in his shoulder.

Buck’s sitting on an empty bed, cold sheets underneath him and the feeling of utter helplessness digging into his chest. He knows he can’t break down, not when he has Christopher to look after — he’s cried in front of him already, a small arm wrapped around his waist patting his back with reassurances that shouldn’t be coming out of young child’s lips, let alone the son of the man who was shot.

Buck has to be strong for Christopher and that means taking any part of Eddie that he can grab onto just for some semblance of comfort. The hoodie’s one of Eddie’s larger ones, typically what he wears to bed if the chill is too much for him to go shirtless — it hasn’t been washed yet.

He takes deep breaths as he looks around the room again knowing that he couldn’t bring himself to stay in Eddie’s bed - not without the man himself - instead, he pulls out the spare sheets and pillows from under Eddie’s bed with the plan to sleep on the couch.

Buck tells himself that he’s sleeping out on the couch so he can be closer to Christopher, so he can get to the kitchen without making too much noise, so nobody asks any questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

But the truth is, he just can’t sleep in Eddie’s bed alone.

Eddie’s bed was a sanctuary for him, a safe space he went to when he feels his lowest and needs to find comfort. Now he’s realising that maybe it’s Eddie himself who’s his safe space. The thought of sleeping in the bed without the eventuality of Eddie joining him makes him feel sick to his stomach — like he may not survive if he sleeps on Eddie’s bed with the cold emptiness next to him, where there should be the heat of a warm body.

Buck can’t let himself be here anymore, not in Eddie’s bedroom surrounded by Eddie’s things. He takes himself to the kitchen instead after dropping off the sheets on the couch.

Buck pulls open the fridge hoping for a glass of water when he sees it. His favourite beer is stocked in Eddie’s fridge. It’s a brand made in Pennsylvania and hard to find, Buck remembers lamenting to Eddie how he misses sipping from this specific brand — the one he got in Pennsylvania with the girl on the front that Buck could never remember what it was called. The memory was something so distant and blurred that he couldn’t pull it out of him. All he remembers is late-nights, sneaking out, with a pack of illegally bought beer to sit under the night sky in cool, harsh Hershey evenings and just finally taking a breath for himself as he looks up at the stars. 

It was the only time in Hershey where he felt like he could be himself; free of the weight of his parents disappointed stares that, at the time, he didn’t know why.

Now he knows it’s because they wish he was their other son.

Even with that brief and albeit, lacking, explanation Eddie still went out and found the beer — stockpiled it in his fridge the next time Buck was round. The smug and triumphant expression on Eddie’s face when he pulled one out to give to Buck is one he’ll never forget. They haven’t drunk another beer since. It’s safe to say that Buck was really weepy that night when Eddie opened that beer and, in a way, himself up for Buck. (They call it Buck’s beer, since they still for the life of them can’t figure out the name of the brand.) It’s the first time that he realised that Eddie truly cared for him, that it wasn’t a one-way street. 

Seeing the beer in the fridge even now and realising that Eddie has it in there just for him makes tears brim at his eyes.

Why do bad things happen to the best people?

Eddie didn’t deserve this, Christopher doesn’t deserve this.

It should’ve been him.

He grabs one of the beers and takes it to the couch to nurse, opening it up and taking a slow sip. It tastes like tar in his mouth, thick and slow. It’s like the good memories and taste have been sucked out, tainted by Eddie being in the hospital. 

It always tastes better with Eddie next to him drinking from the same brand.

Buck places the half-full bottle on the coffee table — knowing he won’t be able to drink anymore tonight. Instead, he pulls one of the blankets on the couch over him and settles down, choosing to keep his socks on because his hot water bottle isn’t beside him to keep him warm. He snuggles down into Eddie’s hoodie bringing the material to his nose and inhaling, praying that it’ll trick his mind into thinking that Eddie’s right there next to him.

And not in the hospital fighting for his life.

+

There’s nothing between Buck and Eddie right now, Ana’s long gone and Buck had only recently broken up with Taylor — choosing to finally put himself first for once. Eddie’s incredibly proud of him, which is something he tells him and takes some sort of delight in turning Buck into a blushing mess.

Eddie wants Buck, needs Buck and he’s not afraid to admit that anymore. He’s come to accept his true self, as well as his true feelings.

Eddie also thinks that maybe, just maybe, Buck wants him to.

It’s the passing looks and lingering glances from across the room, the tactile touching, and the way that both of them just can’t seem to let the other go when they part for the evening.

They both just needed a push, something to finally tip the other one over the edge — give one of them the courage to finally take the plunge.

If only it didn’t take another brush with death.

—

Eddie feels like he’s still shaking, if it wasn’t the panic attacks that send him to therapy this will definitely be the kicker. Maybe he’ll have to ask Buck for some recommendations when his body feels like it’s not going to jump out of its skin. Buck’s going to be happy having been prodding and poking at him to try therapy again these past couple of weeks, after finding out about the panic attacks.

Next to him, Buck doesn’t look like he’s faring any better. He’s leaning heavily on Eddie who can feel Buck’s shivering, it’s jolting his shoulder. His injured shoulder that barely even aches anymore  (just the occasional, usual phantom pain) —  right now it feels heavy, though he wouldn’t dare to move Buck from where he was. They both need the comfort and connection, the stability of the fact that both of them are here, blood in their bodies, air in their lungs and life in their veins.

It’s obvious Buck is cold, the shock not helping either. He’s wearing a form-fitting t-shirt and lounge shorts — he’s got his usual socks on, which touch something in Eddie’s heart (these ones have aardvarks littered over them — ‘it’s the first word in the dictionary, Eddie!’) Other than that it’s like Buck just threw on the first clothes he found in the drawer he has at Eddie’s with no thought to it.

Eddie doesn’t blame him because he did the exact same thing.

Flashbacks of the night fly through Eddie’s mind, the desperation on Buck’s face as he’s held back from getting to Eddie, the press of the cold steel against his skull and the feel of hot breath on the back of his neck.

But what’s stuck in his head is the screams, Buck screaming his name — the anguish in his voice like Eddie is something precious that he can’t lose and can’t live without. Eddie could tell exactly what Buck was feeling from his voice because Eddie’s was the same as he yelled out Buck’s name.

Eddie’s eye focus again on Buck who’s wide eyed, leaning on Eddie with slumped shoulders and hands trailing over his goose-bumped arms — rubbing up and down slowly as he stares at Eddie, blankly and desperately as if he can’t stand to look anywhere else.

Eddie suddenly gets an idea and moves to stand up, only for Buck to suddenly scramble towards him latching onto his wrist with both hands — his fingers resting on his pulse point, tapping out an anxious beat.

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie hushes him when Buck lets out a whine, despite it being Eddie’s house he doesn’t think Buck’s mind is thinking coherently right now. “Just wait here, I’m coming back.”

Buck looks at him warily, as if he doesn’t know whether to trust that Eddie would come back — his heart being shattered and hopes crushed by the many people who’ve left him before. Eddie’s heart breaks at the whimper from Buck as he drops his hands from around Eddie’s wrist. He hurries to his bedroom wanting to get back to Buck as soon as possible, but he also wants to make sure he grabs the specific thing he wants.

Eddie shuffles around in his draw until he feels the familiar material. He pulls it out looking at the navy sweatshirt with the LAFD symbol and Eddie’s name printed on it.

It surprises him how right this feels as he comes back into the living room and sees Buck’s hunched form on the couch. 

It feels like the right time as if everything that’s been building between them is finally ready to come out and settle.

There’s no anxiety in Eddie as he holds out his sweatshirt to Buck.

“Here,” he says, softly pressing the soft fabric into Buck’s hands. Buck takes it with shaky fingers looking up at Eddie in shock with a hint of awe. Something settles in Eddie when he sees the life slowly coming back to Buck.

Eddie watches as he slips the sweater over himself, a sense of possessiveness washing over him when he reads his last name on Buck’s chest and it should but it doesn’t make him panic about how right it fits there. He feels himself now finally settle after the night they had.

The sweater is snug around Buck’s arms and chest, yet the arms once again are a little long on him covering his hands — just the way that Buck likes it. It’s dark blue and so soft, Buck wants to rub his hands all over it.

Buck’s eyes flit down to the fabric again that’s now against his skin as he bunches his hands into the bottom of it until his breath hitches and his eyes widen in shock.

Does Eddie know? 

The thought of that makes Buck panic, makes him want to flee out of the door and never look Eddie in the eye again. But Eddie doesn’t seem angry and he’s still looking at Buck the same way he always does, maybe there’s something a little more… behind his eye, he doesn’t want to let himself hope.

Buck flushes. “I- I didn’t think you noticed,” he stutters.

Eddie’s smile is soft. “I notice everything about you, Buck.”

Well when he puts it like that, what else is Buck supposed to do when Eddie gives him that patented fond and lovely look other than kiss the living daylights out of him?

Eddie makes a noise in surprise before completely relaxing into Buck’s tightening grip, pulling his arms out from where Buck has trapped them to his side and cupping Buck’s face between his hands.

Buck lets out a gasp when he realises that Eddie is kissing him back, can taste the lingering traces of mint toothpaste, coffee and something inherently Eddie that Buck knows he already can’t get enough of. Now that he’s tasted Eddie, he won’t be able to let go. To scrub the taste of Eddie away when it’s the most right and settled he’s ever felt. Eddie’s ruined him for any other kiss, any other person with just the press of his lips and the slip of his—

Oh, that’s Eddie’s tongue entering Buck’s mouth. It traces the inside of it like it’s trying to discover every hidden crevice and then Eddie draws away to follow the outline of Buck’s lower lip before catching it between his teeth. Buck can’t help letting out a whimper, his eyes slipping open to meet Eddie’s; the brown completely overwhelmed by black rings of desire.

Buck realises that Eddie wants this just as much as he does, that Eddie’s been hanging onto feelings that he couldn’t act on just like him and now that they finally have it; it’s like they can’t get enough of each other.

“Eddie,” Buck keens into his mouth, his chest heaving and his lips tingling. Buck can feel Eddie smile against his lips, one that pulls at the edges and there’s smugness and confidence in Eddie’s touch now that’s travelled to the nape of Buck’s neck tugging at the fine hairs there.

“Buck,” Eddie murmurs back with another bite to his lip.

“What are we doing?”

“What we should’ve done a long time ago,” Eddie mutters, dragging Buck back to him and latching onto his mouth.

Buck grins into it making it harder for them to continue the kiss, he’s exuding happiness almost bouncing up and down on top of Eddie.

Eddie smatters kisses along his jaw, his cheeks, his neck, all the way to his birthmark before coming back for a peck on the lips. He pulls away and looks at Buck in wonder, stroking his cheekbone with his fingertips. “I love you.”

Buck looks at Eddie in quiet amazement and for the first time, he believes the words, can taste them in every kiss pressed to his skin. “I love you too,” Buck gasps, throwing his arms around Eddie and himself more on top of him. “Eddie, so much. I love you so much.”

Eddie laughs gripping onto his own sweatshirt that Buck’s wearing dragging the man into him even more, if it’s even possible.

Eddie hopes that Buck keeps stealing his clothes and prancing around wrapped up in Eddie’s smell and name. 

And now that they’re together together, Eddie can’t wait to return the favour.