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Some days are bad days.
You can wake up in a good mood—the best mood—and the sun can be up in the sky, yellow and bright and gorgeous, and you can hit every green light on the way to work and eat a delicious breakfast surrounded by family and do everything in your power to keep the smile on your face, but the day will still end with with your hands covered in blood.
The call was tough, a messy accident with a couple involving a sharp, wayward saw blade. The couple was injured; the husband had it worse. The man was in good spirits, all things considered, but he coded on the ground before they even loaded him in the ambulance. The lacerations on his gut were too deep and wide, and they lost him the second time his heart stopped.
It took Eddie ten minutes to scrub himself clean.
Their shift was over by the time they returned to the station. Bobby sent everybody to the showers and, with a squeezing hug, loaded up in his pickup and headed home. Athena’s off today; they’re going to have breakfast and then binge a few movies. Bobby’s been looking forward to it for a few weeks.
Chim and Hen left the at the same time, carpooling to Chim’s house where Karen is with all the kids. She already phoned Maddie, who was able to call off before her shift even started. Hen said something about a big feast for breakfast—eggs and waffles, bacon and sausage, biscuits and gravy—and then a trip to the park. There’s a splash pad close to their house; the kids love it, especially in the heat. Eddie has a plethora of pictures on his phone as proof.
They invited Eddie and Buck over, but they both declined. Neither one of them are in the mood for company at the moment.
Eddie used to have a system after a bad call. He’d clean up at the station, stop by his favorite diner for some breakfast, and then head home where he would collapse in a heap on his bed and not come out from beneath his covers until he absolutely had to.
Sometimes, Chris joins him and they have a day being lazy, watching silly movies and eating in bed. Other times, though, Chris peeks in to check on him and leaves him be once he’s reassured Eddie’s still breathing under the weight of his blankets.
He’s not had to do it for a while, though, and he doesn’t want to be alone this time. He isn’t sure Buck wants to be by himself, either. He’s just waiting for Eddie to offer.
He shuts his locker and turns around. “Come home with me.”
Buck brings his head up from his hands and blinks, once, red-eyed and ruddy-cheeked. “Yeah?” He swallows, stands from the bench, and scrubs a hand through his messy hair. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He smiles, prompting a crooked grin out of Buck. “Come on. Let’s get home.”
Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder and leads him out of the locker room, through the bay doors, and toward his pickup. He throws their bags in the bed and gets behind in the wheel; Buck works the radio, turning it down low and drumming his fingertips on his kneecaps as they weave through the morning traffic.
He’s full of kinetic energy, the static-like kind that makes him move even when he wants to stay still. Eddie’s glad he asked Buck to come home with him—there’s no telling what would’ve happened if he didn’t.
He pulls into the drive, shuts the truck off, and grabs their bags while Buck uses his key to unlock the door to the house. Christopher’s decided he’s old enough to stay by himself while Eddie’s working and Eddie agreed on the stipulation he keep all the doors locked and checks in with Mrs. Dalton across the street before bed.
His little boy’s growing up, turning into a good young man. Eddie doesn’t see a reason to hold him back by babying him and they’ve learned to compromise over the months.
Eddie drops their bags next to the table and then goes down the hall to check on Christopher. He’s still asleep, pillows shoved in the floor and one foot hanging off the bed; his glasses are on his nightstand and there’s entirely too many juice boxes strewn about, but that’s a problem for later.
Buck stays at the doorway after Eddie turns away and heads toward his room, staring in on Christopher’s sleeping form.
Eddie gets it. Coming home to Christopher after a difficult shift and seeing that he’s still alive, that he’s still breathing, that he’s still leaving his dinner plates on the floor of his bedroom and wearing one of Eddie’s shirts to bed is one of the only ways he can relax and process what he’s witnessed. He isn’t going to refuse Buck the same saving grace.
He changes out of his jeans and into a pair of soft sweatpants and a cozy, well-worn sweater. Buck’s in the bathroom when he walks past, humming beneath his breath. Eddie leaves him be and heads toward the kitchen.
It’s a bit of a mess, like it always is when Chris spends the night by himself. He can fend for himself just fine—he makes the best grilled cheese and scrambled eggs Eddie’s ever had—but he’s terribly fond of ordering food now that he has a proper allowance and he seems to forget where the trash can is.
He busies himself with picking up, putting dirty dishes in the sink and throwing trash away. His mind drifts here and there, from Buck to bills to Buck to that puppy he’s considering adopting to Buck again.
These days, it seems all he can ever think about is Buck. They’ve been dancing around one another for weeks, doing a will-they/won’t-they waltz that Eddie has perfected since he realized he was in love with his best friend and his best friend was in love with him, too.
Perhaps it should terrify him, the way he and Buck have been working toward a future together since the very moment they met, but he can’t find it in him to be frightened. The two of them make so much sense—the sun rises in the east and sets in the west and Eddie loves Buck and Buck loves Eddie.
It’s simple truth, a timeless devotion. Eddie has nothing to be scared of and Buck doesn’t, either.
Eventually, Buck makes his way into the kitchen and leans against the refrigerator, arms crossed tightly across his chest as if he’s hugging himself. He changed, too, into a pair of shorts and an old Sooners t-shirt. He must’ve dug through Eddie’s drawers to find it.
It makes Eddie smile. He’s glad he’s a place of comfort for Buck.
“Want to lay down?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder as he wipes down the countertop. “My bed’s made up and the sheets are clean.”
Buck shakes his head. “I’m not tired yet,” he replies, yawning into his hand.
Eddie’s smile grows. “Hungry? I can make us something to eat.”
“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”
Eddie hums, but reaches for the bread and peanut butter, anyway, because he knows if he makes himself something then Buck will inevitably ask for a bite, too. It’s just the way he is, how he’s always been, and Eddie hopes he never changes. He knows Buck like the back of his hand, like his favorite book—he knows Buck like the moon knows the sun’s shine and relies on it every night.
“Want a beer?”
That gets a laugh out of Buck, thick and tired and bewitching. “Come on, Eddie.” He snorts. “It’s barely ten.”
Eddie shrugs. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”
Buck tilts his head in acknowledgment, but says nothing in return. Eddie mixes a small bowl of peanut butter and honey, and smears the creamy blend across two pieces of wheat bread; he cuts it down the middle and turns to lean his hip against the counter, watching Buck as he munches on his sandwich.
The thing is, no matter how much time passes, Buck still wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s a good guy, a great man—he never meets a stranger and he often trips over his own two feet in an attempt to offer his assistance to those who need it. It’s why he’s such an incredible firefighter: he is not afraid to run into the flames, no matter how high they are, to help those in need.
He experiences things so deeply, as if every situation gouges his heart and mind a little bit deeper than it does the any other person. It’s slower to heal, and the remnants are significantly more profound, but he’s brave like weeds sprouting through cracks in cement are.
Eddie admires it. Admires Buck, all the way to the core, even when Buck is being a cantankerous jackass or a righteous dickhead, because he’s unashamed of who he is and refuses to apologize for himself. He’s a lot, often too much for some people to handle, and it used to hurt him, yeah, but he’s older now, more settled in his skin and who he is; he holds no more inhibitions over himself because he knows what he deserves and he does not fear demanding and commanding respect and adoration and commitment.
Eddie is proud of him, so fierce it burns like molten lava in the pit of his gut.
As if snapping back to reality, Buck makes a noise in the back of his throat and dodders into Eddie’s space. He grabs the other piece of the sandwich and eats half of it in one bite, an absolute heathen. Eddie’s so fond and in love he can hardly keep it in.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Buck averts his eyes, looking down at the frayed stitching on the chest of Eddie’s sweater. “Do you want to talk about it?” he counters, mouth full of peanut butter and honey.
Eddie’s heart warms. “Not at all,” he replies, ducking his head low to meet Buck’s pretty blue eyes. “But Buck, if you do, I’ll listen. I’ll always listen.”
Buck’s face does a funny thing, twisting into an expression Eddie doesn’t recognize before his face softens and his shoulders drop, as if the weight of the world is finally off them.
“They got married last year,” he begins, quietly, “in October. His favorite holiday was Halloween and they had a costume wedding and it looked like so much fun. She showed me the pictures from it while you—while you and Hen tried to keep his guts inside.”
He stops and coughs. Eddie fills a cup of water from the faucet and pushes it Buck’s way, coaxing him into finishing at least half the glass. He drinks the rest once Buck’s done.
“She said they decided to skip their honeymoon and put the money they saved into a house. They couldn’t find one in their price range, though, so they bought a cheap lot and decided to build their dream house from the ground up. She said he told her she could have anything she wanted as long as he got to have a bay window. It was going to be gorgeous.”
“I bet it was.”
“They loved each other so much. They’d waited so long for each other ‘cause it wasn’t the right time, and then it was, and they only got to spend a couple months together.” Buck sniffles. “They waited for so many years to be together and—and a freak accident took him away from her.”
Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand, covering it with his own. Buck flips his hand and laces their fingers, holding on tight.
“It’s terrifying, you know. A love like that, how it can make you feel and what it can have you do.” Buck barks a laugh, one that sounds like it hurts his throat, and raises his free hand to wipe the tears gathering on the ends of his lashes. “And I—I can’t imagine having a love like they had and losing it. I don’t think I’d survive it.”
Eddie thins his lips, blinking away the glimpse of Shannon from the back of his mind. He lost her, one of the great loves of his life, but she’s not the only one. And it hurt, you know, tore him apart from the inside over and over and over, and some days he didn’t think he was going to survive but he did.
He did. He is.
And Buck will, too.
“I know it’s scary, Buck, but losing the person you love isn’t something you have to worry about,” he says. “It’s not going to happen to you. I promise.”
Buck wrinkles his nose, a sign he’s holding back a flood of emotion, and asks, “How do you know?”
Eddie steps into Buck’s space so they’re chest to chest, heart to heart. “Because I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he says, reaching up to cradle Buck’s cheek in his hand. “I promise that, too.”
Buck hiccups, a sharp noise in the sweet quiet of the kitchen, and grips Eddie’s fingers harder. “Yeah?” He blinks once, twice, three times; his blue eyes are darker than usual, bright by the tears still sitting heavy in them. They’re gorgeous.
“Yeah, Buck. I love you.” He lifts his head and nuzzles his nose along Buck’s jaw, up toward Buck’s ear, and across Buck’s temple where he puts a soft kiss. “I love you. I love you so much it’s all I can think about sometimes. I’m never going to leave you.”
“You can’t say that,” Buck says, but he wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist and pulls him closer, anyway. He tucks himself down, hunching his shoulders, and buries himself into Eddie’s chest. “You can’t promise that.”
Eddie slides his hand from Buck’s face to his chest and presses down till he can feel the steady, thud-thud-thud of Buck’s big heart beneath his palm. “I can and I will,” he swears with his whole soul. “I’m always going to come home to you and you’re always going to come back to me, too.” He smiles, relishing in the tiny grin Buck gives him in return. “I love you, Buck.”
Buck’s breathing hitches; he brings his hand up to slide his fingers through Eddie’s hair, brushing through the messy curls until he can see Eddie’s eyes clearly. “I love you, too,” he whispers, as if he’s in awe, as if he didn’t know he was allowed to have this. “So, so much.”
“I know you do.” Eddie smiles, tangling his his fingers in the fabric of Buck’s t-shirt. “I know, baby.”
Slowly, delicately, he brings Buck’s mouth to his for a kiss. It’s soft and simple, tasting like peanut butter and honey and Buck’s salty tears, and it’s not at all what Eddie imagined their first kiss would be like, but that’s okay because this is only the start. They’ve got decades ahead of them to have everything. He’s not worried at all.