Work Text:
It’s not hard for Buck to skip on breakfast, is the thing. He goes back to the quiet of his loft and tries to pretend that the entire day somehow didn’t happen. He cleans the place, washes the dishes, puts a load on, reads a book, anything to clutter his mind with as much information as he can. That way maybe he can forget these words that keep being played over and over again in his head like a broken disk.
You live your whole life doing everything you’re supposed to do. Marriage, kids, big house, nice cars, weekends at the shore.
Until one day work stops. Everything finally comes into focus. Not sure what you’re looking at. What was the point of any of it?
What’s the point of any of it?
Buck wishes he’d know. He wished they had more time. More time to save Lev, more time to talk. Maybe then he could’ve asked him what it meant, to be happy. Asked him what it was like for him.
And Buck is not stupid. He knows there’s no such thing as a universal recipe for happiness. People are not magically in on a big secret and spend the rest of their lives as happy as they can be.
That’s not how it works, and Buck knows that.
He just wishes he would have figured it out by now, is all. Figured what it meant for him. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He spent his entire life trying to search for it, desperately clinging to anything that somehow bears a resemblance to it. Clinging to it like he would to a life-rapt in the middle of the ocean.
He hasn’t gotten any help. Not from his parents, the very people who were supposed to make it easier for him, who were supposed to help him navigate life a bit better. Maddie helped. She tried to, as best as she could. But then she left. She left and suddenly Buck was like a little kid again. A little kid with many, many questions, and no answers.
And sometimes – well sometimes life can seem like a big, monstrous thing when you’re just a kid.
But he’s here now. He got his sister back. He’s doing a job he’s passionate about, surrounded by people he loves and who loves him just as much. He should be happy, is the thing. He’s gotten everything he ever wanted. A place he can call home. A loving family. Somewhere safe, where he can dig his roots deep, where he finally feels like he belongs. He should thrive.
So why is there still some part of him that feels like he’s being left out on some big classified secret everyone around him managed to get their hands on except for him?
Buck lets himself fall on his chair, his laundry long forgotten in a basket at his feet. The quiet comfort of his loft now feels like an agonizing torture drowning him in his own thoughts.
And that’s how Eddie finds him.
Because of course he came.
It seems to be a pattern of his lately, coming right when Buck needs him to. Almost like he can somehow sense it. Even at a distance.
Even far.
Even so.
Eddie lets himself in, steals a chair from the kitchen and takes a seat next to Buck, waiting. Always waiting. Never pushing.
Buck loves him.
“I thought- I thought you were going to get breakfast with Chim?”
“I did that.” Eddie says, his eyes always so gentle. “That was two hours ago, bud.”
Buck figures that it might. He’s lost all notion of time ever since that call. It’s a thing that happens quite often when he loses someone. It’s like being a spectator of your own life, like watching a movie in fast forward or in slow motion. Sometimes even both at the same time, if that means something.
Maybe it doesn’t. That’s just how it feels like to him, sometimes.
“Where’s- Where’s Chris?”
“At school?” Eddie watches him with raised eyebrows, concern clear on his face.” It’s only Friday, Buck.”
“Right. I knew that.”
“You want to come pick him up with me this afternoon?” Eddie asks him then and well – Buck has to smile.
There’s nothing a little bit of Chris time can’t fix. Eddie had told him that a few years ago after a bad call, and back then Buck had been too scared to answer that yeah, that’s actually not far from the truth at all.
Because Chris is – Well Chris is everything, isn’t he? That boy makes everything better.
“Yeah.” Buck smiles bashfully. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Eddie smiles, elbowing him playfully.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asks, his expression open and warm, like he cares.
And Buck’s smart enough to believe that Eddie does – in fact – care. That he has for a long time. But the question he asks himself is not whether Eddie cares now, it’s whether he will care always.
Living a life like Buck has, it only makes sense to wait for the other shoe to drop, to wait for someone to finally pull the rug from under his feet.
“It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about me.” Buck shrugs it off.
“Yeah that’s too late for that, bud.” Eddie says, poking him on the shoulders. “So humor me, okay?”
And how can he say no to him? He’s never been able to, really. But there’s something about him. There’s something about that new version of him. The Eddie post-therapy. There’s a calm aura that surrounds him, an aura that Buck can’t help but feel drawn to.
That Eddie looks happy. At ease. Everything that he’s been trying so hard to figure out.
And Buck – Well Buck’s never really been immune to that man’s charms to begin with, hasn’t he?
And it’s not going to start now.
“I just – I still don’t have a couch, Eddie.” Buck says, because it’s easier to talk in metaphors than to just put it all out there for everyone to see.
It’s safer.
Besides, there’s nothing Eddie can’t get.
He always seems to see right through him, no matter how messy Buck’s brain might be. So really it doesn’t seem to be so out of reach to think that maybe Eddie will see right through this metaphor, too.
“Why?” Eddie simply asks, diving into that metaphor headfirst.
“I don’t know.” Buck admits. “I’m afraid to get a new one. And Bobby told me about this idea – in AA – that you take inventory of your life in the hope that maybe -someday – you might feel at ease. So I thought – I thought that maybe I didn’t need one in the end. And I have this chair, you know? I felt like maybe this was enough. I felt like maybe this was enough, for now.”
“And it isn’t?”
“No.” Buck answers, shrugging his shoulders like it’s no big deal. “I don’t see how I can be at ease with everything that's been going on, lately.” He adds, and it’s like these words slip out of his mouth of their own accord.
“What do you mean?” Eddie says, and here are these eyes again, filled with something soft, and earnest. Something that makes Buck feel seen.
“Things are alright now.” Buck gives Eddie a small smile, hoping that it might be enough to downplay the importance of what he’s about to say.
Because they don’t talk about it. It’s been months now. Nearly a year. Not that Buck is counting the days (he is), and yet this moment is still stuck in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Sometimes, Buck’s afraid it might choke him.
“But for a while there.” He continues. “For a while there, they weren’t. You got shot, and I know – I know we don’t talk about it. But not talking about it doesn’t make it go away, Eddie. Because you did. Get shot. And I watched it happen. And then Maddie left. Chimney, too. And everybody kept going like nothing happened but I can’t do that.” He takes a breath, and adds. “Not anymore. And I know things are okay now, but sometimes I’m just here waiting for… For-”
“For the other shoe to drop?” Eddie asks, his gaze steady on Buck’s. And his tone doesn’t seem questioning, but final. Something that doesn’t await an answer.
Buck still nods, and lets out an awkward chuckle as his eyes drop to the ground again.
“I guess – I guess Lev’s death reminded me of it all, you know?” He says. “Does that make sense?”
It’s Eddie’s turn to nod, his body leaning a bit more towards Buck until their knees touch. One of his hands lands softly on Buck’s thigh. It grounds him.
Buck stays quiet for a moment – there’s still quite a lot that’s on his mind – but for now he feels like maybe that’s enough.
Besides, it also gives Eddie the time to process what’s just been said. It’s a lot to digest, after all. But it was inevitable – Buck know that.
He keeps his gaze down, until his eyes fall on Eddie’s hand. The one that’s still on his thigh. He only hesitates a few seconds before lowering his own and linking their fingers together. Eddie squeezes his hand and Buck squeezes back. In his head, it means it’s okay, I know it’s a lot, take your time.
“I’ve never really thanked you.” Eddie eventually says after a few minutes – and it’s so far from what Buck expected to hear that he doesn’t really have time to say anything before Eddie continues.
“For what you did for me these past few months. I know it was a lot. But you were here anyway.” Eddie laughs in disbelief. “For me. And for Christopher.”
“I wanted to.” Buck tells him almost immediately, in a kind of tone that doesn’t really allow Eddie to delve any further.
“Oh I know.” Eddie smiles knowingly, looking at him with teary eyes. “Still. Thank y-”
“You don’t need to thank me for any of that.” Buck snaps, impatient. “You needed help. And I’m here for you. Always.” He adds, his voice unwavering.
“So let me be here for you now, alright?” Eddie offers, holding Buck’s wrist like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“It just seems like a lot.” Buck says.
“Then we’ll take it step by step, okay?” Eddie answers, bringing his other hand to Buck’s neck.
“I don’t know what the first step would be.”
Eddie smiles softly. “Letting me say I’m sorry.” He starts, and Buck wants to intervene but Eddie doesn’t let him the time to do so, raising his hand in mid-air.
“You’re right.” He says. “We never talked about it. Because I wasn’t ready. And once I was all better and healed, everybody just moved on so I thought – I thought maybe I could do that too. But I should’ve known better.” Eddie says. “And when it all came crashing down again, you were there to pick up the pieces.”
“That’s not what -”
“But it happened to you, too.” Eddie cuts him off and Buck –
Well Buck finally feels like he can breathe a bit better. Having that confirmation from Eddie that he’s allowed to grieve, that he’s allowed to mourn too and to heal – it fills him with a relief he never knew he needed. He lets out a shaky breath and can’t stop the few tears from streaming down his cheeks. Eddie cradles his jaw with his right hand, letting his thumb wipe the tears from his face.
“It happened to me, too.” Buck repeats, with a shaking voice.
“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about it.” Eddie apologizes yet another time. “But we’re gonna try and be better at this whole communication thing from now on, yeah? I’m gonna try and be better.”
“Frank really did a number on you, huh?” Buck teases him, desperately trying to lighten up the mood.
And it works. For a second, it does. Eddie laughs and taps him on the shoulder. “Shut up.” He says.
“You’re allowed to ask for help, you know? Stop trying to figure out everything on your own just because you feel like your problems ain’t big enough. I’m right there. Me and Chris. We’re right there. And we’re not going anywhere. Okay?” He asks, cupping his cheeks with his hands.
“Okay.” Buck nods, shakily. “Okay.”
“We’re staying put.” Eddie adds, like he knows Buck needs to hear it twice.
“You’re staying put.” He repeats, and a small smile breaks in on his face. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“And well -” Eddie adds, hesitant, like it’s forbidden territory. “We have a couch.”
And this – This dangerously sounds like what Buck’s been wanting to hear for months. Hell, for years even, if Buck’s being honest with himself. But there’s just no way Eddie means it like that. Because that thing Buck wants to hear is too important, too precious and fragile, and so he decides not to hear it.
“Well I – I know but I’m not going to just take it from you guys.” He says weakly. “That seems a bit counter-productive you know -”
“Buck.” Eddie laughs, and his voice’s never been more fond. “You’re not hearing me. We have a couch.”
“I mean yeah I think we pretty much established that alrea-”
“Jesus Christ, you’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?” Eddie cuts him off, his hands still cupping his cheeks. “Buck.”
“Yeah?” Buck says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Look at me.”
“I’d rather not.” He whispers, keeping his eyes down.
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Evan.”
And there’s something about his name coming from Eddie’s mouth. Something about the way Eddie makes it sound. It’s soft, and gentle. And Buck can’t not look up. He’s only human, after all.
“C’mon now that’s not fai-”
“I love you.” Eddie says before Buck gets the chance to look down again. And here there are. These three words. Between Eddie’s lips, they sound like the most beautiful thing in the world. Buck’s not sure what he did to deserve them. But he’s sure as hell not going to complain. “I’m in love with you. Have been for a while. So let’s try and be happy together, yeah?”
Buck tears up a bit at these words. He’s been waiting to hear these things for so long and now that he has them, he’s overwhelmed by how much they mean to him.
He sniffles and rests his forehead against Eddie’s. “No offense to the Eddie pre-therapy because I loved him just as much but he doesn’t hold a candle to you.” He says, and Eddie laughs. “I love you so much.” He adds. “You and Chris. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Against Eddie’s lips, he lets out a breath that’s a mix between a laugh and a sob.
And then, they’re both laughing and crying at the same time until Eddie takes the matter into his own hands and presses their lips together, kissing him so gently it only makes Buck cry a bit harder.
“Just to be clear, though.” Buck says against Eddie’s lips. “I’m never sleeping on your couch ever again, right?”
“Shut up and kiss me, Buck.”
And Buck –
Well Buck can only comply happily.