Work Text:
Okay.
He knew this was coming.
Eddie knew this was coming, and yet he persisted in ignoring it, hoping it would go away if he acted like it wasn't happening, but it didn't.
It actually got worse.
For the last couple of days, Eddie has been waking up with a dull pain on his shoulder, a sharp sensation that tweaks his muscles and leaves him sore.
And today, it gets worse.
The throbbing on his side disturbs Eddie to wakefulness way before his alarm does and gives him no choice but to wake up, the sharpness on his shoulder spreading down to his arm, all the way to the tip of his fingers as he slowly cracks his eyes open and comes to himself.
Only when the haziness surrounding his brain dissipates Eddie realizes he is lying on his side, arm supporting his dead weight, the way his bones dig the mattress almost doubles down the ache and fires up his nerves.
Eddie rolls onto his side to relieve himself a bit, joints cracking along his stiff movements, but the turn causes him to let out a quiet groan as his face screws in discomfort, his brows knitting and lips slightly twisting down.
Yeah, okay.
His shoulder hurts.
Eddie stares at the ceiling as he lets out a long, tired sigh, and runs a hand down his face. He needs to get up and get ready for work then drop Chris off to school, but the only thing he wants to do is to just lie in bed and rest some more.
But apparently the universe has plans against him, because the next thing he knows is the stubborn sound of his alarm filling the room and telling him it's time to stop whining and get up.
Thankfully he has the next day off, so all he needs to do is get through today without any problems and come home.
That doesn't sound too difficult.
He can manage the pain just fine.
Except he can't.
Because his pain is worse.
It's in the middle of the afternoon and they are sitting around the dining table after just getting back from another stupid call, and his shoulder is killing him.
Because somehow, Eddie managed to make a wrong move and stretch his already burning muscles, and now his shoulder is hurting even worse than before.
And despite his weak attempts at hiding it, the struggle of pain must be written all over his face, because with his squinty eyes and pouty lips, Buck is staring at him like he is trying to solve a puzzle or something.
He looks adorable— which is not the point, but also Eddie can feel those sharp blues studying him, and it's tensing him up.
So, he squints back and tilts his head. "Why are you staring?"
"What's up with you?" Buck dodges his question, and pushes even more. "You seem off."
"Off how?"
"I don't know." Buck shakes his head, and Eddie can see the softest worry glinting Buck's eyes. "Are you okay?"
Eddie purses his lips and nods, the question makes him remember the stretching feeling on his scar and he involuntarily clenches his jaw at the sudden poking sensation while doing his damndest to look natural. "I'm fine."
But Buck doesn't let go, not that Eddie is surprised.
Buck lifts his brows, his face questioning. "Are you sure?"
" Buck —" Eddie almost groans and crosses his arms, which turns out to not be a good decision because it hurts so he immediately uncrosses them and lowers them on his lap, this time not being able to silence the quiet hiss escaping his lips as his face screws in pain.
Of course, Buck notices it and switches to his high alert mode within seconds.
"Hey—" Buck straightens up on his chair before dragging it closer to Eddie, his brows knitted in confusion and not so slight concern. "Are you okay?"
Eddie manages a nod while holding his hitching breath to control the pain, now that the sharpness is slowly fading into a dull one. "I'm fine, just a cramp."
"Are you sure?"
He doesn't let go, does he?
" Yes, Buck." Eddie's eyes meet his, his tone quiet yet stubborn, but the gentleness shining through the other man's baby blues almost gets the best of him. "I'm fine."
Buck doesn't look convinced at all , he keeps staring at Eddie even though he doesn't say anything, Eddie lifts his brows and gives him a questioning look.
But before Buck can say anything, the bell rings.
They get dispatched to various calls during the day, both time consuming and short, by the time their shift ends and it's time to go home, Eddie feels like shit.
His muscles ache and burn, the scar on his shoulder stretches from every side and feels like it's gonna burst open; all Eddie wants to do is just to go home and take a quick shower and sleep .
He keeps his goodbyes short even if it blatantly looks suspicious to Buck— Eddie can read his face from a mile away, but eventually, he sneaks out and finally drives home.
Home is silent when he lets himself slide in, Chris is at a sleepover with his friends; Eddie tosses his bag on the floor and beelines straight to the bathroom, taking his clothes and putting them in a dirty basket before getting in the shower.
The first contact of the warm splashing water against his skin is like heaven, tiny droplets caressing his skin and easing him as they slide down, melting his aching muscles; Eddie's eyes drop close with a sigh leaving his lips and he brings his hand to put it over his shoulder where it hurts the most.
His fingers slowly rub and squeeze, massaging and kneading lightly, the heat surrounding the scar that Eddie feels underneath his fingertips is strong enough to burn his skin but with each light touch, Eddie lets himself loosen up and relax, even if it's not a lot.
He gets off the shower and dries off his hair halfway with a towel, then carefully puts on some loose t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before sliding under the covers and rolling onto his back with a groan.
The ache is still there and it still hurts, but finally Eddie can take a nap and hopefully feel better in a few hours.
But it seems like the universe has other plans for him.
Because there is someone knocking on his door.
Great.
Eddie rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.
He really doesn't want to get up.
Maybe the person leaves if he stays in bed and doesn't open the door.
He isn't expecting anyone, anyway.
But whoever is behind that door, they are fucking stubborn .
They keep knocking.
Okay, fine, whatever.
Eddie pushes himself off the bed and slowly makes his way towards the door, his mind half annoyed and half tired. "Coming."
That person better have a good explanation for knocking on Eddie's door.
He twists the knob and pulls the door open, and all the annoyance in his bones vanish, leaving their place to a weird feeling he can't name but tingle his heart.
Standing outside looking soft as ever, Buck faintly smiles at him. "Hi."
"Buck?" It catches Eddie by surprise because Buck didn't mention anything about coming over at work, let alone sending a text or giving a call afterwards.
His brows gather as his face falls in a frown. "What are you doing here? I didn't know you were coming."
"Can I come in?"
Get a grip, Eddie.
"Yeah, of course." Eddie steps aside, closing the door after Buck gets in. "Come on in."
"So…" Buck trails off as he slumps on the couch, eyes watching Eddie as Eddie sits next to him. "How are you?"
A breathy chuckle vibrates Eddie's throat. "You came here to ask me this?"
Buck drops his head with a shy smile before letting out a deep breath and looking straight into Eddie's eyes, tilting his head. "Okay, let me rephrase it: How is your shoulder?"
It takes Eddie by surprise, a smack on the head. "What?"
"Your shoulder." Buck says again, pointing at his arm. Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head and drops his hand on his lap. "Come on, Eddie, do you really think I haven't noticed?"
The statement sends shivers down Eddie's spine, suddenly he feels exposed like all of his secrets are unraveled, but why is he even surprised? It's Buck, of course he knows. Of course he realized.
Yet still, he feels some type of way about it. He was trying his best to act like everything is normal and he successfully tricked people around him, but not Buck, never Buck.
He doesn't know what to feel about it. He feels so many things about it.
A part of him wants to drop the act, but another part of him instructs him to man up and lick his own wounds.
Eddie can't look Buck in the eye much longer, he turns his gaze away, and shrugs. "It's just sore, nothing too big."
Buck nods hesitantly as he watches Eddie, not giving a verbal answer.
For a second Eddie thinks this is it, he finally convinces Buck and they drop the subject, and a wave of relief washes over him.
But then, Buck breaks the silence with his quiet, soft voice. "Can I take a look?"
The request is like a whiplash, making Eddie's heart skip a beat, if he was feeling exposed earlier, right now he is feeling downright naked.
He knows Buck won't push him if he says no, but still, he doesn't.
He doesn't know why.
So, with hesitant and careful movements, Eddie takes off his shirt, holding his groan back as his muscles stretch.
Buck scoots closer on the couch, their knees brushing each other, the tip of his fingers trace along Eddie's scar with a feather-light touch, and Eddie flinches a little at Buck's cold fingers against his burning skin.
"Does it hurt a lot?" Buck's voice is quiet now, his expression softened.
Eddie swallows down the heaviness in his chest. "It was worse this morning."
Buck's fingers touch him one last time before he pulls away and gets on his feet. "Wait here."
Buck comes back with a glass bottle in his hand, he sits in his place next to Eddie and a scent of lavender fills the room when Buck opens the cap.
Oh, wait, now he remembers.
"Isn't that—"
"Yeah." Buck smiles, the tiniest of prides flashing his eyes. "It was still in the same place I put it."
It's the oil Buck used to use for massaging his shoulder after his physical therapy sessions.
How the hell did Buck not forget where it was? It's been years.
It makes Eddie smile, a real one for the first time in hours, his eyes brim with fondness as he takes a look at Buck's face and his heart only beats faster when he finds Buck looking at him the same.
"Tell me if it hurts." Buck says as he pours some oil on his shoulder, and places his hand on top.
Despite his big and strong hands, Buck keeps his touch impossibly gentle and light, he starts to rub the tense muscles on Eddie's shoulder and works the slick liquid in; Eddie chokes out a whimper as his eyes fall close, his form still tense and stiff, as if it refuses to accept a gentle touch.
"You don't need to act tough, you know?" Buck whispers, his callous fingers still soft and delicate on Eddie's skin, slackening each hurting muscle. "Not with me."
There is a heavy implication that lies beneath what Buck said, Eddie knows this, and knows Buck isn't only talking about now .
And he does know that, he really does; he's been healing within for the past years and it feels great, he feels more in touch with himself, but sometimes he can't help it. Over the years, some things have forced their way into becoming second nature to him.
Eddie lets out a quiet sigh and drops his head, voice tired. "You've seen enough."
Buck shakes his head. "So have you."
Eddie's eyes lift to meet Buck's, exchanging a look that sinks into his soul and embraces his heart; a warm, familiar feeling that Eddie feels whenever he's with Buck.
They fall into silence shortly after, Eddie doesn't know what to say and Buck doesn't push him, but what happens is that subconsciously or not, Eddie lets himself surrender and allows his limbs to go pliant under Buck, he lightly rocks back and forth every time Buck rubs his skin and presses gently.
Buck isn't doing anything special, he is doing the same repetitive motions Eddie was doing on himself, but it feels different, like magic; each time Buck touches him, Eddie feels himself melting.
He lets out a groan when Buck presses on a particular knot, his face screwing in discomfort and teeth gritting. "Fuck." He mumbles, breath hitching.
"Shh, just a second." Buck assures while still working on his shoulder.
He keeps rubbing and squeezing, and Eddie is this close to pulling away when suddenly the knot on his shoulder just loosens and he physically feels a huge weight on his body disappearing into nothingness.
Eddie lets out a deep sigh, his limbs now like noodles, and sags into Buck further, his hair touching the side of Buck's neck. "Wow."
"I know." Buck says, and Eddie is sure the younger man has a big grin on his face even though he can't see it.
The more Buck keeps his hands on him, the more Eddie feels himself relaxing and relief taking over, and by the time Buck pulls away, he feels like a new man.
It's not that the pain is gone all the way, he still needs to sleep and rest his shoulder, but he definitely feels better.
Much better.
"How are you feeling?" Buck asks, looking at Eddie with his big, excited eyes.
A faint smile tugs at Eddie's lips, and he gives Buck a nod. "Better. Thanks, Buck."
Buck's baby blues sparkle at his words, the corners crinkling as he smiles. "Always, you know that."
He does.
"Yeah, I do."
"So." Buck is back to his playful self now, he sounds lively when he speaks. "Want some coffee?"
Eddie arches his brow and teases. "Only if you make it."
Buck rolls his eyes but the fondness on his face is clear as day. "Fine, you old man."
"What can I say? I'm an old, hurt man." Eddie fake pouts, then smiles.
Buck gets on his feet and makes his way to the kitchen, and Eddie watches him.
Yeah, he definitely feels better.
~♥~♥~♥~
His leg fucking hurts .
And it's not like one of his typical, occasional muscle cramps, either.
No, at least Buck is used to having those by now— it's been years, he's learned how to deal with them when they happen, but no, this one isn't like one of those.
This one is so much worse it almost paralyzes him.
It's not even his muscles that give him trouble this time; it's his bones, aching and hurting, a throbbing pain that is sharp enough to snap his bones in half and make them burst out of his skin.
It hurts inside where Buck can't reach, it pulsates through his bones and stabs his leg until all Buck can feel is the numbness and nothing else, a pain that feels like a ton of bricks placed on his limb and not letting him move a toe.
The weather doesn't help him, either.
It's one of those days where it's unusually cold in LA, and it only worsens the ache Buck's currently experiencing, adding misery to his already existing misery.
His leg hurts like he's under that ladder truck again.
And he hates it.
He's standing at the doorstep shuffling his keys to let himself in— thankful that his shift from hell is finally over; the minute the door opens, Buck drops the act he's been carrying the whole day and starts limping his way in his house, letting out a groan whenever his injured foot touches the ground.
Tossing his bag on the ground, Buck slowly goes to the kitchen and snatches the bottle on the counter to pop up a pill, and swallows it down with tap water.
He takes one step forward but as he lands his foot, another wave of crushing ache decides to spread all the way starting from the tip of his toes up to his hips, causing his knees to buckle. Buck chokes out a loud yelp, his face twisting in agony; his hands grasp the edge of the counter to stop himself from falling and he doubles over the marble as he drops his head, eyes screwed shut and ragged breaths coming out of his gritted teeth.
"Fuck." Buck chokes out in between his shaky breaths, black dots around his vision.
Okay, he needs to go lie down before his leg gives out on him.
His grip still tight on the counter, Buck thinks of his options as he tries to catch his breath. The bed is more comfortable but he has to literally crawl up those stairs, the couch is closer but he knows for a fact his neck would kill him the next day, but it is closer and Buck doesn't have it in him to go up and make his body go through hell.
Fuck it, he can deal with the neck pain later, he's going for the cou—
Wait.
He doesn't have one.
Fuck, he doesn't have a fucking couch. His stupid decisions are biting him in the ass at the worst imaginable time.
He has no other option but to go upstairs.
Slow forming tears burn behind his eyes, his whole face heats up with frustration at his own stupidity. How the hell is he supposed to go up when his leg isn't even willing to take one small step?
God, he is so tired. He just wants some rest and that stretching, sharp ache in his leg to go away. That's all he wants.
Buck sniffles and lets out a deep, shaky sigh, and slowly straightens up.
He has to suck it up and do what he has to do before wasting any more time.
He gets support from the counter as he takes tiny steps towards the stairs until he passes the kitchen, clenching his jaw and letting out whimpers of pain. It is relatively easier with support than without, but he comes to a point where he has to walk on his own, and that's where the real problem starts.
It's not even a long distance between him and the beginning of the stairs, only a few steps, but right now it feels like walking from one point of the earth to another, and Buck is hurting.
"Come on, come on." He whispers to the void, and starts walking.
Not even two steps in, a shout rips Buck's throat and his hand clenches his thigh when a stabbing sensation shoots up his leg, the tip of his fingers digging his jeans. He barely keeps himself from falling but god, his muscles tremble like a leaf; Buck's chest rises and falls fast with each shallow breath and he closes his eyes, teeth digging his lower lip.
"Please, just a few steps." He begs his body to just hold on a little longer, his breath hitching in his throat and his voice coming out wet.
Buck takes in a deep breath and exhales, takes in another deep breath and exhales again, and tries again.
This time, by dragging his foot instead of walking.
His jaw clenches shut as he takes a step forward with his good foot and drags his other one, his hand supporting his thigh, and again, and again until he finally, finally reaches the beginning of the stairs. His damp shirt is sticking to his skin like a second layer, ghost pale face and neck glistening with tiny drops of sweat.
Come on, he can do this.
Just a little longer.
It all goes down when Buck holds the handrail and lands his good foot on the flight, and tries to shuffle his injured foot up.
His foot trips on the edge, making him lose his balance, Buck's legs give out and he falls on the stairs with a thud.
Buck's yelp echoes in the loft and his hands brace his calf, curling into himself and gripping so tight because fuck it hurts so much, his muscles are on fire like they are snapping and twisting, his bones burn as if they are getting crushed, gnawing pain spreading everywhere, hard flights dig his back like knives and he can't be that weak, he can feel tears forming in his eyes but no, he refuses to cry, Buck clenches his teeth and muffles the mewl catching his throat that's trying to find a way to come out.
He can't do it. He can't even walk, let alone go up.
Buck brings his shaking hand to his pocket and takes out his phone, and stares at Eddie's name for a good few seconds, but the more he looks at it, the more blurred the screen gets, and then a few drops splashes on his screen.
He has to call Eddie before completely breaks down on the stairs.
So he does.
It's when Eddie comes home from dropping Chris off to a sleepover his phone rings in his pocket.
He takes it out of his pocket, and a big smile lights up his face when he sees Buck's name on the screen.
"Hey, what's up?" Eddie says as he lets himself slump on the couch and stretches his legs over the coffee table.
The excitement falls short, and his face drops in a confused frown when Buck's ragged breaths fill his ears instead of a verbal reply.
Eddie straightens on the couch and asks, his mind blank."Buck? Are you there?"
After a silence that feels like a lifetime, Eddie hears the other man sniffle and let out a tiny, wet whimper.
Okay, he is getting worried.
"Can you come over?" Buck asks— pleas, and the tremble in his voice clenches Eddie's heart.
"Where are you?" Eddie springs to his feet, grabbing his coat and keys in a rush, his brows knitted and face suddenly burning up. "Are you okay?"
What the hell is going on? Did something happen to Buck? They were together at the station not even a few hours ago, what could have happened that caused Buck to sound like this?
Eddie hears another choked out mewl over the line. "I'm— I'm home."
"Are you okay ?"
"I'm—" Buck's words get cut off by a pained groan. "God, my—my leg— I c-can't get up."
Fuck, okay, okay, he still doesn't know what's wrong, but he knows something isn't right, and that he should go see Buck.
With a short sigh, Eddie nods even though Buck can't see him. "I'll be there in 15."
He leaves home in a rush and shuts the door behind him, and drives to Buck's loft.
It's a quick ride between his home and Buck's loft, Eddie makes it in a record time and when he does, he pushes himself off the car and takes two steps at a time until he reaches the door and shuffles his spare keys out without wasting any time. His mind is racing with millions of scenarios, unable to filter which one makes sense and which one doesn't; suddenly every small thought sounds possible and the more Eddie thinks about them the more he gets lost in them.
His keys slide in with a swift move and just like that, Eddie gets inside Buck's loft. "Buck?"
He takes a few steps but he stops dead on his feet and his head twists to the sound of heavy breathing coming from his left, where Buck is half sitting half lying on the stairs, face ghost pale and eyes red rimmed, his form slightly shaking.
Only one look at Buck, and Eddie can already tell the other man is in pain.
He hates to see it.
"Buck, hey." Eddie paces to his side and crouches down in front of him, brows gathered worriedly, but voice steady. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Uh—" Buck sniffles and clears his throat, not meeting Eddie in the eye for some reason. "Can you— can you help me get up?"
From this close, Eddie can see the wetness on Buck's long lashes and dampness on his cheeks, no fresh tears forming but still not completely dried down, he looks like he'd cried plenty until Eddie arrived, but Eddie doesn't say anything as much as it breaks his heart to think of the reason behind it.
"Of course." Eddie gives him a nod, and leans forward as he wraps one arm around Buck's back. "Come on. One, two—"
His other hand grasps Buck's tightly for support— Buck's other hand holding the rails; slower than ever, Eddie helps Buck rise to his feet.
Buck's face twists in discomfort and he hisses when his foot touches the ground, he clenches onto Eddie's hand hard enough to break his bones.
"Fuck." Buck chokes out in a whisper in between his short breaths, throwing his arm around Eddie's neck now that they are standing— Eddie plastered to Buck's injured side. He can feel the heat vibrating from Buck even from all those layers of clothing.
Buck takes a step with his good foot, but then stops moving.
"Can you lift the other one?" Eddie asks.
Buck's jaw clenches, his brows furrow, and he shakes his head.
Okay.
Eddie lets out a quiet sigh and pulls Buck closer to his side. "Okay. I'll help you, okay?"
He doesn't wait for an answer, instead he slightly bends down and places Buck's foot on the flight for him, feeling the blond's limbs tremble like a leaf.
They repeat the same actions for each stair until Buck's grasp on his shoulder tightens and he fists the fabric of Eddie's shirt as he lets out a loud whimper, chest rising and falling heavily, making Eddie stop abruptly and take a look at Buck.
"What's wrong?"
Buck's voice cracks when he speaks. "Hurts."
"Do you want me to carry you?" Eddie offers, and he means it, too.
Buck shakes his head immediately, and Eddie can feel the frustration building inside the other man even though Buck doesn't say anything to him.
So instead, Eddie just waits. "Take your time."
His thumb brushes back and forth over Buck's side, feeling those tense muscles underneath.
He waits and waits, and by the time Buck gives him the okay and they manage to make it to the upper level, Buck looks wasted .
Well, not just Buck, Eddie also feels himself getting tired, he was carrying almost all of Buck's dead weight for fuck's sake, but Buck looks seconds away from hitting the ground and Eddie guides him to sit on the mattress as swiftly as he can.
A groan gets stuck in Buck's throat, he closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, his face glistening with sweat and curls disheveled.
"Thanks." Buck manages, his head dropped on his chest as he takes a breather.
Eddie opens Buck's drawer as he lets Buck compose himself, he takes out a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, and places them next to Buck, who is now looking at him with a questioning expression.
"What are you doing?"
"Your clothes are sticking on you." Eddie explains calmly. "You need to get comfortable."
"Eddie—" Buck is already ready to protest, shaking his head. "You don't have to do that. I just need some rest, that's all."
He looks so defenseless, baby blues flashing with vulnerability as Buck stares at him, he looks guilty as if he's forcing Eddie to be here when in fact Eddie would never leave him alone if he'd known how terrible Buck was feeling way before.
"You will get rest. After you get changed." Eddie's eyes meet Buck's, his hazels staring deep into Buck's broken blues, and the message is clear.
Buck doesn't protest any longer.
He changes his shirt on his own as Eddie gently takes off his jeans and helps him get into his sweatpants, it takes some adjustment but finally Buck ends up lying on his back on top of the covers, going boneless on top of the mattress.
Eddie quickly goes downstairs to get a painkiller with a glass of water, Buck drinks all of it and collapses back on bed again, and closes his eyes.
Eddie sits on the empty space next to Buck, legs crossed, and wraps his fingers around Buck's ankle, Buck slightly twitching under his touch. "Relax."
He rolls the cuffs of Buck's sweatpants up, revealing his half faded scars and stitch marks. Eddie has a pretty good guess where it hurts and how to ease the pain.
He's done it before, after all.
He places his hand on Buck's calf, and the moment Eddie rubs his stiff muscles, Buck lets out a long groan and tries to curl on his side, trying to pull away, but Eddie doesn't let him.
"Stop moving." Eddie's hold tightens only a little so he can stop Buck from moving but not hurt him.
Buck's eyes close shut and his forehead wrinkles, his pale face screwed in agony, his hand fists the sheets as he drapes his other arm over his eyes, in an attempt to hide himself.
Now that they are on the same page, Eddie keeps going.
He gently kneads and rubs Buck's aching leg, applying the right amount of pressure and massaging until he can feel the stiffness fading away; as he keeps going, Buck goes pliant under his touch and slackens, letting Eddie work on him and do whatever.
It causes a sense of pride to bloom in Eddie's chest, seeing Buck trust him and basically go limp, seeing him visibly relax and just let go, it makes him feel good .
The feeling only grows bigger when after some time, he realizes Buck finally found some peace and fell asleep, his arm now loosely resting over his head and steady breaths leaving his parted lips.
The best part is that he looks like he is genuinely getting some rest.
Eddie slowly pulls his hands away and gets the blanket from the edge of the bed, and drapes it over Buck, smiling fondly when Buck relaxes even more.
He watches the younger man sleep for a few minutes, and then goes downstairs to brew some fresh coffee for himself.
In a few hours, Buck will wake up feeling better and join Eddie, steal Eddie's nth cup of the day and earn an eye roll from the man that is no way near annoyed.
But for now, Buck sleeps and Eddie sits on the kitchen stool, enjoying the silence as he sips his drink, and patiently waits for Buck to wake up.