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Eddie and Buck lay in bed, panting.
“It’s always so good,” Eddie says, rolling over to face Buck, the man he’s been calling his boyfriend for six weeks now.
Buck smiles, a big toothy thing that warms Eddie’s heart far more than the California or Texas suns ever could.
“I’m so lucky…” Eddie whispers, mainly to himself, as he brings a hand over to Buck’s face and caresses his cheekbone, his jaw, his chin.
Buck smiles. “I love you.”
It’s not the first time Buck has said it. Every other time, Eddie has managed to distract him with pretty words or passionate kisses or simply riling him up, but… He’s stuck, now.
They just made love, there’s no denying that. What just happened between them was nothing other than the fierce magic that conjoins two souls that fit together as one. Eddie hopes that Buck knows that, because… he can’t respond.
It’s not that he doesn’t love Buck. Hell, he’s loved him for months, years. He doesn’t know why he can’t say it.
It’s not a sexuality thing. They’re out to the team, they hold hands in public, Eddie’s even come out to his abuela and sisters.
He thinks it’s a Shannon thing. Like, somehow, if he says that he loves Buck, he’ll be disrespecting her. Especially since he loves Buck in the way that he thought he loved Shannon.
Buck’s smile drops and his shoulders harden. Before Eddie can say anything, before he can even reach out to stop his boyfriend, Buck is getting out of bed.
“Buck–” Eddie starts. Buck is throwing on his jeans, refusing to look Eddie in the eye.
Buck just shakes his head, not even buttoning his jeans before he throws on his undershirt.
As Eddie sits up in the bed, Buck grabs his overshirt, his underwear, and his belt, frantically finding his wallet and phone. “I can’t do this,” he mutters at the ground.
“Buck–”
“No!” Buck turns to Eddie with glassy eyes. “I can’t!” Buck takes a shuddering breath and lowers his voice, probably intending to not bother their son. “I’ve tried, Eddie… I’ve tried so hard to let it go… To– To– To give you time. But it’s been weeks. Eddie I have loved you as long as I’ve known you and if you still can’t say it I– I– I can’t do this to myself.”
Buck stops and looks Eddie in the eye. This is Eddie’s chance. Say it. Just say it.
“Buck… It’s not–”
“Right.” Buck pulls his lips into a line and nods his head hard. “I’m done settling, Eddie.”
Just like that, Buck storms out of his house, his life.
Work is hell. Eddie knows that Buck asked to be paired with someone else, and that Bobby said no. Buck is distant, always finding something to do away from Eddie.
Buck refuses to touch him. He doesn’t make eye contact with Eddie, he’s moved his stuff out of their shared locker, despite the fact that it was Buck’s in the first place. The one time Eddie reached to secure Buck’s harness, Buck flinched away like he was afraid of being scorched by Eddie’s skin.
At home, Eddie sees reminders of Buck all over his house. Picture frames on the surfaces, socks in his drawers, drawings on the fridge…
Christopher has been having nightmare after nightmare. About what, he won’t say, but it’s not hard to guess.
The worst part, Eddie thinks, is the cold, hard way that Buck says his name. Hand me the rope, Diaz. Grab that end, Diaz. Around back, Diaz.
It’s only a week in when Eddie fucking breaks. He’s at work, trying to fight the pain away via punching bag when the tears well up. Terminally afraid of letting anyone see him cry, Eddie makes his way straight to the storage closet.
The same one that he and Buck found themselves in, time after time, ignoring Bobby’s rule of no fraternizing at work.
Eddie leans against the door. Instead of knocking everything down — he doesn’t have a baseball bat this time, anyway — he slides down the door and tugs at his hair. He digs his fingernails into his palms, only stopping once he’s bleeding, and he’s lucky enough to have nearly an hour alone to compose himself.
When Eddie stands up, he wipes at his face, tries to straighten out his hair, and he shoves his hands into his pockets.
He ignores Hen and everyone else who tries to talk to him for the rest of the shift.
Two more weeks pass. Eddie has gotten better at numbing himself to the emotion. He’s gotten better at hearing Buck’s harsh tone, at seeing him flinch, at recognizing the way that his body constantly reaches for the man he loved, loves, and stopping himself in his tracks.
“Buckley, Diaz, you’re on the roof,” Bobby says before the men head for the fire escape.
When they get to the top, Eddie looks at his partner. “Stay on the edge–”
“I know what to fucking do, Diaz,” Buck spits.
The building shakes.
Eddie’s world threatens to fall to pieces around him.
Before they can even start to vent, Eddie’s world is crumbling beneath his feet.
Buck loses his balance, he tumbles backwards. Eddie reaches out, he doesn’t make it.
Eddie doesn’t know when the 133 got there, doesn’t know when Captain Mehta arrived on the roof, but the strong arms around his torso are the only reason he doesn’t follow Buck through the collapsing concrete.
His world stops and he’s paralyzed on the ground, staring into the building and waiting for someone to bring Buck out. You’re not going in there, Eddie, someone had told him.
He wouldn’t have listened if it weren’t for Chimney staying behind, using his dad stare to keep Eddie on the ground.
A few bodies emerge with a stretcher and Eddie jumps to his feet. He sees Bobby, Ravi…
That’s when he sees Hen riding on top of the stretcher, administering CPR.
He tries to run, tries to get to Buck but he’s held back by a strong grip on his wrist.
“They’re almost here,” Chimney says in his ear. “Just wait.”
Eddie watches with blurry eyes as Buck is moved into the ambulance, Hen still doing compressions. Before climbing in, Chimney looks at Eddie. “Get in there.”
“We have to intubate,” Hen says, looking at Eddie.
Eddie swallows. He feels his nostrils flare and his eyes burn, “what are you waiting for?”
Hen nods, concluding something in her head and moving to grab the supplies.
When they reach those glass doors, Eddie runs beside the stretcher. When hospital employees try to usher him away, Eddie simply yells “I’m his partner!” and grabs onto Buck’s hand tighter.
Eddie doesn’t remember anything after that, as he sits in the hospital room by Buck.
Bobby walks in, coffee in hand. “I talked to Carla. I told her what you said.”
Eddie nods. His eyes stay glued to Buck, only stopping to flit up to his monitor every few minutes.
Eddie needs Christopher, needs him so bad, but his son can’t see his father like this… can’t see either of his fathers like this.
Bobby sits down beside him and sets the coffee next to Eddie. “What happened between you two?”
Eddie closes his eyes for a little too long and panics when the blood rushing through his ears prevents him from hearing the monitor beep.
Letting out a relieved breath when he opens his eyes and Buck is still there, he squeezes the man’s hand. “I was an idiot.”
“You couldn’t fix it?”
Tears fall freely from Eddie’s eyes — everyone has seen him cry now, he can’t hide it, it’s not worth it — and he swallows the guilt in his throat. “I… I could’ve… I was too fucking stubborn… I…”
Bobby rests a hand on Eddie’s back and rubs it. “You’ll have the chance.”
Bobby sits beside Eddie for hours. Something Eddie only knows because of the shift change and because of the family who have come and gone.
“I couldn’t tell him that I love him,” Eddie finally admits, quietly.
Beside him, his captain opens his eyes and sits up in his chair.
“He kept telling me that he loved me and I… couldn’t say it back.”
“You obviously do…” Bobby starts. Eddie still won’t take his eyes off the needle in Buck’s arm, the bandages on Buck’s skin, the tube down Buck’s throat. “So… why?”
Tearfully, Eddie whispers. “Shannon…”
Bobby nods and holds his breath for a moment before releasing it. “When I fell in love with Athena,” he starts, a rueful tint to his voice. “I felt horrible. Like I hadn’t grieved my family enough. She was the one who taught me that loving again doesn’t erase your past…” There’s an audible gulp from Bobby and a small sniffle. “I cried the night that May went to her homecoming dance. She was starting to feel like family — they all were — and all I could think about was the way Brook would have looked at me that day.”
The room falls silent for a moment as a nurse comes in to check on Buck. When she leaves, Bobby continues. “There’s nothing wrong with moving on. She’d want you to.”
That night, Eddie doesn’t sleep.
It’s Hen that tells him he should go home and rest. Christopher is with family and Eddie needs a shower and a fresh set of clothes.
He doesn’t leave Buck’s side. He won’t.
Sometime after night shift arrives, but before visiting rules change, Maddie appears beside him with wet wipes and new clothes neatly folded on a chair.
With Jee on her hip and a lingering kiss on Buck’s forehead, one on Eddie’s too, Maddie leaves for the night.
He doesn’t change. He’s already washed his face and his hands in the bathroom, time and time again, so he doesn’t use the wet wipes either.
Sometime during the night, Buck begins to choke on his ventilator. He’s breathing on his own, but they keep him on non-invasive oxygen since he hasn’t woken up.
Eddie still watches. Still cries in the middle of the night, and during the day, and spends all his time regretting every part of the last several weeks.
His mind drifts, whenever he tries to sleep. It drifts to happy places: Buck and Eddie making dinner together, getting married, snuggling in the living room, watching Christopher graduate. It drifts to other places, too; a life without Buck, a life where he has to grieve the love of his life, a life where Buck survives and still wants nothing to do with him.
So he doesn’t sleep. Not intentionally, at least. The only rest he gets is when his body can’t fight it anymore and gives in to the exhaustion flowing through his veins. Those naps never last more than an hour, though.
It’s better than nothing, one of Buck’s nurses says to Eddie.
Eddie forgets what it’s like to not have Buck’s hand in his. Every time he has to go to the bathroom, or attempt to eat something, Eddie feels naked.
The very first night, Eddie moved the recliner next to Buck’s bed. ICU equipment littered the room, so it was hard to find a position, but once Eddie found it, he refused to move.
Like this — with the recliner next to the hospital bed — Eddie can stretch his legs out while holding Buck’s hand. He can watch Buck breathe, and he can see the monitor on the other side of the bed.
If he wants to feel Buck’s pulse in his neck, he has to get up. So he only does that a few times a day.
It’s right after the morning shift change when Buck starts to stir. Eddie’s eyes fly open and he squeezes Buck’s hand. His other hand flies to Buck’s abdomen and Buck’s eyes flutter open.
Buck’s mouth opens, and it closes, and Eddie presses the call button on Buck’s bed. “Don’t talk, baby,” he says, softly. He can feel the sobs racking through his body as he holds onto Buck for dear life. “We’ll get you water, okay? It’s been a few days…” Buck looks around, nods.
Buck’s free hand, the one with the IV, tries to move, but Eddie presses it down. “Hold on,” he says. “Wait for the nurse.”
Eddie watches through wet eyes as several nurses come in and check on Buck. When a nurse tries to help Buck drink water, Eddie takes over. The respiratory team comes in first, and Buck is able to speak for them. Then the burn team, assessing Buck’s wounds again now that they can gauge his pain and potential nerve damage. They tell Eddie and Buck that his doctor should be in soon, and they leave.
“Evan…” Eddie starts.
“You’re here…” Buck looks at him with wide eyes.
“Of–” Eddie stops, something inside him twists and a fresh tear drops from the corner of his eye. He clears his throat before whispering, “of course I’m here.”
Buck looks at Eddie and takes stock of the state he’s in, his LAFD clothes, the clean, folded ones on the chair, Eddie’s unkempt stubble and his ratty hair. “You said it’s been days?”
Eddie swallows, nods. “Can’t believe you’re back…” Buck blinks and the incredulous shadow in his eyes is nothing but painful to Eddie. “I love you, Buck. Of course I fucking love you, I…” Buck looks up, his eyes watering. “I’ve loved you for longer than I know, Evan. I had my own stupid hang ups and I regret it all so much… I’m… so sorry. I never meant to–”
“Eddie.” Eddie’s heart flutters when Buck’s hand slips back into his own. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Eddie laughs. His world is falling back into place and it’s all because of Buck. “Thank you for coming back to me.” Eddie brings Buck’s hand up to his chest and cradles it between his own.
“Can I tell you something?” Buck whispers. When Eddie nods, Buck urges him close, closer, until he can whisper in his ear. “I love you, too.” Eddie smiles wide and bright as Buck grabs ahold of Eddie’s shirt and pulls him into a kiss.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight, now,” Eddie whispers, pressing his forehead to Buck’s and closing his eyes.
“Good, because I left most of my socks at your place.”