Chapter Text
For a split second, Buck thinks he must be sleeping. It wouldn’t be the first time he dreamt of something like this, the floor giving out under his feet, debris on his face and ash in his mouth.
He registers, distantly, something pinning him down, a pressure on his chest that shouldn’t be there. It makes it hard to breathe, and easy to slip into unconsciousness. A few more minutes, he thinks, a few minutes of rest before he has to figure out if the danger is real or just an extremely vivid nightmare.
He blinks one, two, three times, when he faintly makes out noise in his vicinity.
“Buck!”
It sounds like his name, but he can’t be sure.
“Buck!”
It awakens something familiar in him, and he tries to move, stretch towards the sound, but he is being held in place by something… something-
“Evan!”
His eyes blink wide open the second he recognizes Eddie’s voice, trying to take a breath to push words out. Dream or not, he thinks, there isn’t a single plane of existence where Buck wouldn’t respond to Eddie’s beckoning with one of his own.
“Here”, he manages to breathe out, but it’s weak and faint and not enough.
He tries again, louder, the single syllable burning through his chest.
“Here!”
There’s rustling somewhere, boots thumping against the ground, a minute later Eddie is kneeling at his side.
“Hey,” he’s saying, hands already on Buck, checking his vitals, fingers pressed to the side of his neck. “Hey, you’re okay, Buck. You’re gonna be okay. How’re you feeling?”
Buck groans, tries to lift his head to get a better look at Eddie, but gives up before the thought can become anything more than wishful thinking.
“Like I’ve been crushed by several pieces of concrete”, he says.
Eddie laughs faintly, gloved hands already working on the cement piling up on Buck’s chest.
“Yeah, okay, let’s see what we can do about that.”
Some of the pieces get cast aside, and though most of it still sits as an unmovable mass on top of Buck, breathing does get easier.
“Better?”, Eddie asks.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Buck’s vision is swimming, still, but he doesn’t miss Eddie’s hands coming out from around his helmet, stained with something that looks suspiciously like blood.
Eddie stays composed as ever, but his breath hitches, far too quick for anyone to notice. But Buck isn’t anyone, he knows Eddie Diaz, he knows what he looks like when he’s scared, he knows, right then, that he’s in trouble.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, though. He lifts Buck gently, just enough to apply pressure to the back of his head.
“We’re gonna get out of here now, okay?”
Buck laughs, a little hysterically: “How?”
But Eddie ignores him, has already turned towards the radio, head bent downwards.
“Diaz to 118,” he says, “I’m with Firefighter Buckley. Crush injury, headwound, possible concussion. He’s stable for now but pinned down. I can’t remove the pillar.”
He hears Bobby’s voice through the radio, but can’t quite make out the words.
“I can’t see much, Cap.”
Bobby must say something else, something reassuring, because the hard lines around Eddie’s mouth smooth out, and then he’s ending the transmission, and turning towards Buck once more.
“They’re on their way, Buck, they’re coming, alright?”
Buck nods, head lolling back into the palm of Eddie’s hand, still pressed somewhere above his neck. Help is coming, Buck thinks, which is good. It means they’ll get out soon. If that’s the case, he thinks, he can rest, just for a second, just to stop the throbbing pain behind his eyelids.
Eddie seems to not find it as much of a good idea, hand on the side of Buck’s face to keep him awake.
“Hey, c’mon now,” he’s saying, “you know the drill, eyes open, Buck.”
And Buck wants to be good, he wants to listen, but it’s just so hard to focus on the motion, when his head is throbbing and his chest is on fire.
“Eddie?” he breathes out, “Are they open?”
Eddie’s hand moves higher, then, fingers brushing the underside of his eye in a sweeping motion. He must have dirt on his face, Buck thinks.
“Look at me, Buck,” Eddie says, and once more, almost pleading, “look at me,” which, if you ask Buck, is the best way to get him to do just about anything, Eddie’s soft voice around him, soft hands on him. With effort, his eyes blink open, rewarded by the sight of Eddie smiling above him.
“Yeah,” he says, “there you are.”
Buck blinks a few more time, tries to focus on a point on Eddie’s face.
“Hi”, he says, voice rough.
“Hi,” Eddie echoes, and he’s still smiling, thumb still stroking high up on Buck’s cheek. Not dirt, then. “Help is coming, okay? You took a pretty bad blow but we’re gonna get you out of here soon, alright?”
Buck nods, musters a grin: “Got a thick head.”
“Yeah,” Eddie laughs, something wet at the corner of his eyes, “yeah you do”.
Buck wants to laugh too, wants to see Eddie’s eyes crinkle, tongue poking out between his teeth in a full-bodied laugh. If that was the last thing he’d ever get to see, he thinks, he’d go happy. “Eddie”, he says, suddenly serious, “listen, I know we’re gonna get out, but just in case we don’t, or I’m in worst shape than we think-”
Eddie’s hand moves lower, then, north of the corner of his mouth. His eyes searching Buck’s.
“Hey, no,” he says, shakes his head, shifts on his legs where he’s still kneeling down. “We’re not gonna do that.”
“Eddie”, Buck says, mouth moving in the shape of his name once, twice. “Eddie”.
“No, okay? There’s gonna be no deathbed confessions,” Eddie says, almost sternly, “because you’re not dying.”
“Just listen-”
“No, I don’t wanna hear it,” and Buck wants to keep going anyways, but Eddie’s finger is at his mouth, pressed gently on his lips, and he wouldn’t be able to talk if he wanted to, “I won’t. You’re not dying, Buck. You’re not.”
And because they are so close, because both of Eddie’s hands are on him, Buck can feel them shake, a weak tremble against the side of his face. He’d like to hold them, press them to his mouth himself and kiss them, gloves and all.
“Okay”, he says, instead.
“Okay.”
He smiles then, moves his head slightly, effectively nuzzling into Eddie’s hand: “If I do die, though.”
“Buck.”
“No, listen, if I do, and you didn’t let me say my peace. I’ll have no choice but to haunt you.”
Eddie huffs a laugh at that, thumb moving once more across his cheek, “No choice, huh?”
“Yeah,” Buck nods, “and I’m gonna be so annoying about it, too. Most annoying ghost ever, hands down.”
And they’re both grinning like idiots, now, on the floor of a half-collapsed building with Buck trapped under what feels like two hundred pounds of solid concrete. And help is coming but there’s no guarantee they’ll get there before Buck bleeds out from his headwound. And he’s dizzy, but cannot tell if it’s from the blood loss or Eddie’s general vicinity, and the way he’s smiling down at him, still with something shiny in his eyes, and the way he’s cradling Buck’s face. And there is, still, nowhere else he’d rather be, nobody else he’d rather be with.
“Yeah?” Eddie says, “what are you gonna do?”
Buck snorts, groans when he tries to shrug, “Just like, shit that drives you crazy, you know? I’ll hide your phone, burn your coffee, open the blinds when you’re sleeping in the morning.”
“Sounds like you got this ghost business all figured out.”
“Of course. And you’re always gonna be wondering what I’ll do next. I’ll be on your mind every day.”
Eddie shifts his gaze, then, turns it soft, his smile fond.
He says: “You already are.”
And Buck, Buck had an easier time breathing crushed by the ceiling than he does now.
“Eddie.”
“What?”
“I thought you put a ban on the heart to heart.”
Eddie shrugs, cheeks suddenly flushed: “I did, but that wasn’t- it’s not like it’s a big secret,” he says, “it’s pretty obvious.”
“That you think about me?”
Buck, despite everyone’s best efforts, might not survive this.
“Always,” Eddie says, hand moving to brush Buck’s hair out of his face, “you’re gonna give me grey hair, Buckley.”
And it’s easier, like this, to accept an Eddie who actively fears for his best friend’s life rather than one who just- thinks about Buck the way Buck thinks about Eddie: with intention and a sprinkle of daydream, focus shifting from how courageous, selfless, loving Eddie is, to the shape of the freckle under his eye.
“You worry, then.”
But Eddie grins, laughs almost to himself, as if he knows something Buck is not privy to, says: “Among other things”, like it’s obvious, like it’s not earthshattering information.
“Eddie”
“Yeah?”
Buck grins too, something mischievous in his eyes: “You’d look good, with grey hair.”
Eddie flushes, a deeper shade of red than before, and shakes his head: “Shut up.”
“Hey, no, you’d rock that salt n pepper look.”
Eddie keeps shaking his head, flushes brighter, and Buck keeps having the time of his life, trapped and injured and with Eddie by his side.
“What? I’m doing you a favor, if you think about it,” he says, goes on when he notices Eddie’s smile growing, “maybe I should get trapped under a pillar more often, speed up the process, you know?”
It’s serious, then, the shift so sudden it gives them both whiplash.
“Don’t even joke about that,” Eddie says, and Buck thinks he meant for it to be chastising, but it comes out breathless instead, fear laced in every word.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Buck says, searches Eddie’s eyes, “I’m okay.”
“I know. I know. I-”
There’s a loud commotion, then, firefighters coming their way. He recognizes Bobby and Chim, and Eddie is still at his side, when they free him from under the pillar, and when they transport him out and into the ambulance, and on the ride to the hospital, when he can finally, finally close his eyes. The last thing he’s aware of, distantly, as they hook him up to an oxygen mask, is the way Eddie’s hands linger on his face. This time, he’s sure it’s a caress.