Chapter Text
Buck wasn't eating. Bobby's famous lasagna with homemade sauce steamed hot and fresh on the plate in front of him, smelling like a dream. Chimney beside him dug in with gusto that on any other day Buck would have shared, but that night it curdled his stomach to think about taking a single bite.
As Hen and Eddie sat down across from them, Chimney launched into a story about Jee-Yun’s first trip to a water park between mouthfuls. Bobby settled into the seat at the head of the table with his own serving of the feast he had made for them all. “Eat up,” he said, even though everyone except Buck had already started. Buck cut the smallest corner off his piece and pushed it around his plate, not wanting to look ungrateful.
It was late into the shift – past 8pm - but not so late that Buck should feel as exhausted as he did. He could barely keep his eyes open. He braced his elbow on the table and rested his forehead against his fist to keep his head up. Eddie’s gaze snapped to him.
“You feeling alright, Buck?” he asked. Chimney paused and the whole team looked at him. Eddie always noticed everything.
“Yeah, totally,” Buck replied. He raised his head and looked at the others with a sheepish smile. “I didn't sleep well last night.”
Chimney chuckled. “Wait until you have a kid. You’ll never sleep well again.”
The water park story resumed, and Buck rested his forehead once more against his fist. He felt more than saw Eddie glance at him again, but this time Eddie didn't say anything. Buck poked at his food with his fork for a while, but when the topic of conversation switched from Jee-Yun’s day at the water park to Denny’s upcoming birthday party, Buck dropped the pretenses of eating and set his fork aside.
His eyes drooped shut, and his mind felt a bit fuzzy, making it hard to keep up with what Hen was saying. When was the party? Had he already checked that his calendar was clear that day? And he remembered looking at a batting tee and catch net the last time he had been out shopping, but had he bought it for Denny or just thought about it? His mind drifted, imagining Denny hitting baseballs off the tee, and then the whole team taking turns. Eddie would be great at it. Eddie, with his t-shirt sleeves rolled up onto his shoulders, smirking a bit as he swung the bat, knowing he had the technique and the muscle to back it up.
All of a sudden Buck felt himself falling through the grass yard of his dream, and his head hit the firehouse table with a hard thunk. Chimney let out a bark of laughter as Buck sat up straight, confused. Hen snorted as well, but Eddie didn’t and neither did Bobby. “You should go lay down on the bunk room if you're that tired, kid,” Bobby said.
“I don't think he's just tired, Cap,” Eddie said. He had come around the table and now stood over Buck. Buck tilted his head back and met Eddie’s narrowed eyes. “You look sick.”
Buck made a noise of disagreement. “I just nodded off for a second.”
“You haven't eaten anything.”
Buck waved off Eddie’s concern and stood. “I'll grab a bunk, like Bobby said.” He tried to walk around Eddie, but his fuzzy mind affected his balance and he stumbled slightly.
Eddie’s hand caught his arm, steadying him. He frowned, his fingers on Buck’s wrist. He didn't let go of Buck once he’d righted himself and instead used his other hand to touch Buck’s neck. “Your pulse is elevated,” Eddie said. Before Buck could pull away or protest how much of a mother-hen Eddie could be, Eddie touched the back of his hand to Buck’s forehead. “He has a fever,” he told the others.
Buck swallowed, hyperaware of the whole team looking at him and caught off guard by how intimate Eddie’s hand on his forehead felt. Flush crept across his cheeks and couldn’t find the words to argue that he was fine.
“Alright, your shift is over Buck,” Bobby said. “And you clearly aren't steady enough to drive yourself home. Eddie, take him back to his apartment. Keep your phone on you. If we get a call before you get back, I’ll let you know where to meet us.”
“But-“ Buck tried to say, but Bobby held up a hand.
“That’s an order, Buck.”
Eddie slung his arm over Buck’s shoulders and pulled him towards the stairs. “Come on, Buckaroo. I’ve got you.”
-
Buck fell back onto his sofa with a sigh. He was thankful Maddie had convinced him to get a new “Jee-Yun friendly” one instead of his old, sleek and slippery leather one. It was soft and plush, and much easier to get to than climbing the stairs of the loft to lay in his bed. Eddie shut the door and moved the backpack Buck had dropped on the welcome mat onto the hook where it belonged. He had brought his medical bag with him and lugged it into the living room to crouch beside Buck.
“It’s just a cold, Eds. I don’t need a paramedic,” Buck said.
Eddie ignored him and unzipped the bag. He pulled out a thermometer and put a sterile plastic sheath on it. “Open wide,” he said, smirking slightly. He clearly enjoyed bossing Buck around.
Buck swiped the thermometer and put it under his tongue himself to spare his dignity. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared pointedly at the ceiling instead of Eddie. When the thermometer beeped, Eddie was quicker to grab it. “100.5,” he said. “Congratulations. You, Buck, officially have a fever.”
“Does it come with a prize?” Buck grumbled.
“The night off of work and a day of resting in front of the TV,” Eddie replied. He moved the coffee table closer to the couch and set the TV remote within easy reach for Buck. “Anything else you need before I head back to the station?”
Buck was about to say no – he was a grown man and could take care of himself through a little cold – but then a shiver ran through him and he remembered how far away the loft above him was. “Could you get me a sweatshirt from upstairs?” He asked Eddie.
As Eddie went up the stairs, his phone rang. “Hello?...Yes, Cap…Got it…He’s fine…Alright, I’ll be there soon.” Buck listened to Eddie rummage through the dresser while talking to Bobby, and then hurry back down the stairs as he stuffed his phone in his back pocket. Eddie had picked Buck’s old LAFD sweatshirt. His favorite sweatshirt. It had frayed drawstrings from Buck’s bad habit of chewing on them, and it was perfectly oversized for lounging on the couch.
“We got a call?” Buck asked to confirm as he sat up to pull the sweatshirt on.
“We’ve got a call. You’ve got a date with that couch and that TV,” Eddie reminded him. He was moving quickly now, needing to leave to meet the rest of the team, but he first went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Reaching into his medical bag once more he pulled out a small bottle of ibuprofen. Buck made an unhappy face. He hated taking medicine. “Fever reducer,” Eddie told him. He shook two small pills out of the bottle and set them next to the glass of water. “Take two every four hours until the fever is gone. Do you want anything to eat?”
“No,” Buck said. He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and pulled it until it lay over his eyes. “You can go. I'm fine.”
His eyes covered, Buck listened to Eddie put the bottle of ibuprofen down next to the water glass and the remote. He shifted the coffee table a fraction closer to the couch, then zipped his bag and stood up. “Ok, feel better, Buck. Text me if you need anything and I’ll swing by at the end of shift.”
Already half asleep, Buck muttered some combination of “Thanks” and “Get out of here.” He sensed Eddie lingering, watching him from the far end of the couch. Buck wondered what he looked like to Eddie, sick, bundled in an oversized sweatshirt, and sprawled out. He wasn’t used to showing weakness and either the vulnerability or the fever made him shiver again despite the sweatshirt. But he found he didn’t hate the feeling of vulnerability. Not with Eddie. The word intimate came to mind once more, and Buck suddenly didn't want to be alone. Eddie staying would lessen the misery of being sick, but Buck knew that wasn’t going to happen. Eddie had an important job to do, and it was only a little cold. Not worth a paramedic stepping off the line of duty for. So Buck said nothing as Eddie’s footsteps made their way to the door.
Eddie turned off all the lights in the apartment besides the one above the stove. Its dim glow gave just enough light to see by if Buck needed to get up. And then Eddie left, quietly locking the door behind him with the spare key Buck had given him years ago.