Chapter Text
“I just don’t understand what you moving in is going to change.”
Buck sighs and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, setting the box he’s currently holding down on the kitchen counter.
“It’s not supposed to change anything, Tommy,” he says, chasing Tommy’s eyes as he comes to stand closer to the older man. “I just have to be there for him. I’m scared of what’ll happen if I’m not. And I offered the loft up for Bobby and Athena to stay in until they figure out the next steps after the fire. I’m not gonna go back on that.”
Tommy’s lips pull into an uncomfortable line as he tries to school his features into a look of diplomacy and fails.
“I get that, babe. I do.”
Obviously not , Buck thinks. But he smiles politely and leans closer as Tommy gathers his words.
“I just don’t know where it’s going to leave us. I know… I know he’s your best friend. And I know you’ve been there for him through stuff in the past, and vice versa. But I like you a lot and I don’t want to jeopardize what we have.”
Buck’s eyes widen minutely before he can control his reaction. So many things feel wrong with that statement. Through stuff . I like you a lot.
He tries to smile reassuringly, knowing it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I don’t want to lose what we have either, Tommy. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was going to bother you so much.” He reaches out, winding their fingers together and tilting his head imploringly. “It’s just that I’ve seen Eddie at his worst before, and I never, ever want it to get that bad again. And Chris was home then. I keep imagining… I–“ He shudders, turning away quickly.
“Hey, hey, no, I’m sorry.” Tommy tugs on his hand, placing a hand delicately on the other hip, an attempt at grounding. “If this is going to help you and Eddie stay sane through all this, I understand. Surely Chris will want to come home soon, and Bobby and Athena will figure things out. You know I’ll be here.”
Through all this . Buck half-smiles ruefully. He picks the moving box back up, ready to focus on something else for the moment.
One thing Evan Buckley has learned about Eddie Diaz in the six years he’s known the man is that the only thing he hates more than asking for help? Is being told he needs to ask for help.
Which, Buck gets that. He does. Where Buck was the younger sibling who was neglected, Eddie was the older sibling who was neglected. Where Buck was able to rely on Maddie for support (to a point), Eddie had to parent his sisters and lock his own needs away. It’s the same, but different, which is oftentimes what makes them so infuriatingly compatible.
It’s been a week since Eddie’s mom grinned, all teeth, as she ushered Christopher out the door, into the car, and all the way to Texas without a moment’s empathy for the son she fucked up. A week since Eddie’s dad pretended to be an enlightened father, absolved of all the quiet, grating trauma he had ever inflicted on his only son.
It’s been a week since Eddie stood rigidly as the door slammed behind his son, until his legs finally gave out from under him as he turned to desperately grasp at Buck’s middle. A week since Buck lay with him all night on the living room floor, their backs be damned, as they both stared wide-eyed at the dark ceiling, unsleeping, nonverbal, defeated.
“That the last of it?”
Buck’s eyes snap up to his best friend, standing in the threshold of the kitchen, arms outstretched to take the box Buck has just brought in from the Jeep.
He nods, humming affirmatively. Eddie grabs the box, Buck trailing after him.
“You give the keys to Bobby?” Eddie asks, his back turned to Buck as he opens up the bottom cabinet next to the fridge.
“Yeah, this morning.” He bites his lip. “Eddie?”
Eddie pauses where his hands are hovering over the stack of pots within the aforementioned box. He glances up tiredly at Buck.
It’s then that Buck sees just how tired he really looks. He’s looked - exhausted isn’t the right word, but - depleted ever since that night. Like there’s nothing left for him to latch on to. Like he’s running on fumes and he knows they’re about to run out.
“Eds, we don’t have to unpack this stuff right now. We can take a break. We’re off for a few more days, let’s slow down, okay?”
Eddie grimaces. He moves quietly, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table like he doesn’t want to make any noise, doesn’t want to bother anyone. Buck’s heart aches for him.
“Buck, I know this is a lot. I know you’re giving up your place but I know that wouldn’t have been the plan if I hadn’t–“ he huffs frustratedly. “I appreciate you. I’m sorry I’m so all over the place. I just, I have to keep busy, okay?”
Buck knows it’s hard for him to say. Eddie has always had a hard time with expressing things. Laying his cards on the table, wearing his heart on his sleeve. It helps that Buck can usually tell what he’s thinking, but still. He knows it’s huge for Eddie to verbalize what he’s feeling, and he always feels like preening at him when he does.
I’m worried about you , he had said.
I’m worried about me too , Eddie had replied.
“I get that, I do. And you’ve got me here to help. But…” Buck trails off, treading lightly. “Maybe now is also the time to prioritize taking care of yourself, while you have the time.” While Christopher is gone , he doesn’t say.
Eddie’s face shifts a few times before he props his arms up on the table, gazing quietly at Buck. “I know, I… I’m trying. I’ve got an appointment with Frank tomorrow morning. He didn’t have any openings but he made an exception.”
Buck sends a silent prayer up to whoever might be listening. “Good, that’s good. I like Frank. What I know of him, at least.”
Eddie grins without mirth. “Yeah, me too.”