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Eddie’s session with Frank this morning had been one of the roughest yet. It should be easier by now, Eddie thinks. But Frank keeps prodding, poking, digging deeper, and finding parts of Eddie he didn’t even know existed. Repressed trauma he had all but forgotten about, internal wounds he’d slapped a bandage over and run from that were now bleeding everywhere.
He fully anticipates walking into an empty, far too quiet house now that Chris is in Texas. The spot on the street where Buck’s Jeep had been parked when Eddie left is vacant, and now he feels a little empty inside too. He’s still figuring out how to ask for help without feeling like a total failure, and Eddie hadn’t quite been able to ask Buck to stay when he left two hours ago.
Buck, however, is in his kitchen with a steaming mug of chamomile tea waiting on the bench alongside a sandwich and bowl of cut up fruit. Eddie had decided a while ago not to go straight for a beer after coming home from therapy, thought it was a bit counter-intuitive to crack himself open only to come home and shove it all back down. It had been Buck who suggested chamomile tea and Eddie had been surprised by how much it actually helped soothe his frayed nerves.
Buck waits for Eddie to talk first, sitting down opposite him at the kitchen table, sipping his own tea, and Eddie feels so stupidly safe in the domesticity of it all. He eats half of his sandwich (roast chicken with Buck’s homemade saffron mayonnaise and roast vegetables on Eddie’s favourite sourdough), all the fruit, and drains the tea before he speaks.
“I thought you were gone,” he confesses. “Your car isn’t there.”
“Maddie’s is being serviced and Jee had a check-up, so she’s got it. I wanted to be here when you got back,” Buck says. Eddie nods gratefully, taking another bite of the sandwich.
“Sometimes I really fucking hate therapy,” he mutters.
“I know,” Buck empathises, his voice soft.
“It’s supposed to get easier, right? It’s not supposed to always feel like this.”
“I know it might not seem like it right now, but I think it is helping. You’ve seemed...lighter, the last few weeks,” Buck murmurs. Eddie thinks maybe Buck is right – general existence hasn’t felt as much like wading through molasses as it did a few weeks ago, but he didn’t realise it had been noticeable.
“Yeah,” Eddie exhales. “Except at the moment I feel like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces.”
“Healing isn’t linear,” Buck adds thoughtfully.
“Fucking should be,” Eddie grumbles, picking at the sandwich. It’s quiet for a moment after that, and Eddie hears Buck stand up from his chair.
“Can I hold you?” Buck asks quietly, and oh . The last time someone held Eddie was, well. He doesn’t remember. Probably when he was around ten, right before his father told him it was time for him to step up and be the man of the house (at ten fucking years old ). It’s a little coincidental, Eddie muses, that Buck offers up a hug the day Eddie had been unpacking some of the more emotionally traumatic moments of his childhood with Frank.
“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Um. Sure. That sounds...nice.”
“You sound uncertain,” Buck comments, but comes around to Eddie’s side of the table anyway. They’ve hugged before, a handful of times over the years they’ve known each other. Mostly to mark big moments, and they’d never lasted longer than a few seconds. But they’ve never held each other before, and Eddie suddenly feels like he’s never wanted something so badly.
“No, I – I'm sure, sorry. Caught me off guard.” Eddie stumbles over his words as he stands up. Buck’s arms are outstretched and they look like home, so Eddie steps forwards and allows himself to be wrapped up in Buck’s embrace. One arm snakes around his waist and the other comes up underneath his arm, resting on the back of his head.
Eddie sags against Buck, his breath stuttering in his chest. He’s wanted, pined, ached for an embrace like this for so long now. It’s my own damn fault, he thinks bitterly, for being so fucking repressed. Generally speaking, being ‘heterosexual’ (what a fucking joke) didn’t really allow for moments like this, not with the women Eddie had dated anyway. Frank had oh-so-casually explained ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ two weeks ago and something inside Eddie had shattered, threatening to take all of him down with it. The shards loosened something deep down, and Eddie isn’t yet ready to think about what will happen when it all breaks free.
He tucks his head underneath Buck’s chin and wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, holding on tighter than he’s held on to anything in his life that wasn’t his son. In response, Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as Eddie’s body tremors. It’s warm, and not just from their shared body heat. Eddie can feel it washing over him, calming his twitching muscles and easing the pressure in his chest.
A lifetime passes as they cling to each other, or at least enough time for Buck’s tea to settle to room temperature. When Eddie can finally bring himself to pull away his eyes are glassy and his cheeks are damp, and Buck gently swipes away a tear with his thumb. The gesture is so soft, and Eddie feels more vulnerable than he’s felt all day. He surprises himself with how readily he accepts it, his fingers lingering on Buck’s waist.
“Thank-you,” he says earnestly, his voice only cracking a little.
“Anytime,” Buck replies, pointedly making eye contact with Eddie. But there’s no way, Eddie thinks, that this is something he can have. Something he can let himself want. It’s too much, he’s asking too much, when Buck is already giving him so much more than he deserves.
“Buck, I can’t -”
“What? Be vulnerable? Ask for what you need? That’s bullshit, Eddie,” Buck says fiercely. He’s still very much in Eddie’s personal space and Eddie is in no hurry to distance himself. “Besides, you’re not asking. I’m offering. Maybe we can come up with a signal or something.”
“A signal,” Eddie replies flatly, though that feels easier than walking up to his best friend and saying ‘hey, I feel broken inside, can you hold me while I have a complete internal breakdown? Thanks.’
“Yeah, something like this,” Buck says, taking a step back. He reaches towards Eddie and makes grabby hands, pouting a little which, ok. That shouldn’t ignite a flame in Eddie the way it does.
“How about something more subtle,” Eddie suggests because if Buck is offering this, the opportunity to be held on a regular basis, he’s going to take it. Even though it feels a little like weakness (‘ vulnerability isn’t weakness, Eddie’, Frank had said this morning).
“Like this?” Buck offers, holding up his hand to make a heart with his thumb and pointer finger and yeah, that makes Eddie feel warm inside. He nods, ducking his head a little to hide the smile that spreads across his face. He can have this.
--
It becomes an unspoken routine – Eddie schedules his weekly therapy sessions for their days off which, blessedly, Bobby agrees to roster for the same day each week. Buck is waiting in Eddie’s kitchen when he gets home with chamomile tea and food, eats with him, then holds Eddie as he quietly falls apart and pieces himself back together.
Eddie offhandedly mentions it to Frank halfway through a session one day. Frank blinks at him, slowly, and Eddie squirms a little under the intense gaze.
“How long has that been happening?” Frank asks.
“Six weeks,” Eddie answers
“And how long has it been helping?”
“Six weeks,” Eddie whispers. Frank spends the next couple of minutes jotting down notes and looks at him with a gentleness it took Eddie a long time to get used to.
“This might seem a little off topic, but bear with me,” Frank says eventually. “I want you to describe what you hope to see in a future partner for your son.”
The topic of Christopher still stings – they're talking now, a little. Mostly texting, the occasional video call with Buck as a buffer. Thinking about a future for Christopher is hard, because in this fog he’s still in he doesn’t know how big a role Christopher will let him play in it. Buck keeps telling him that Christopher will come home soon, so soon Eddie, and that Christopher loves him. Eddie’s still not so sure that he hasn’t irreversibly fucked up his relationship with his son. But he knows, he knows what Christopher deserves out of life.
“Someone kind and gentle – he's got a soft side he doesn’t show much. Someone passionate who shares his interests and can introduce him to new things they just know he’ll love. Someone who loves him unconditionally – he's been through so much already, he’ll need someone who can help him through hard moments, catch him when he falls,” Eddie gushes. Christopher deserves all this and so much more, more than Eddie thinks he’s been giving him.
“Someone who makes him laugh. Someone who listens to him – really listens to him, remembers the little things he says,” Eddie continues. “Someone who thinks he hung the moon. Someone who will have his back.”
Frank writes down every word on a fresh sheet of paper before he passes it over to Eddie.
“Do you not think you should want all of this for yourself, Eddie?” Frank asks.
“Yes?” he questions, because does he deserve any of this? After the whole Kim shitshow Eddie isn't sure he deserves another chance at any kind of romantic relationship. But working with Frank had been slowly healing his self-hatred, turning it into more of a droll self-deprecation.
“Eddie,” Frank says softly. “Read that list and tell me who it’s describing. Tell me who you think is the right person for you.”
“What? I – oh. Oh ,” Eddie whispers. Oh.
--
Eddie walks out of his session feeling light-headed, enough that he calls Buck to come pick him up because he doesn’t trust himself behind the wheel of a car right now.
“Bring the Chevelle,” Eddie croaks. “Keys are -”
“In the bowl next to the door, I know,” Buck replies softly. “I’ll be there in twenty. Fifteen if I -”
“Please don’t die in a car accident on your way to me,” Eddie huffs.
“You mean don’t crash your muscle car,” Buck laughs gently. He’s always so gentle with Eddie after his sessions.
“I have another car, Buck,” Eddie murmurs, knowing he could leave the next part implied but he wants to be sure Buck knows. “I don’t have another you.”
“I’ll be careful,” Buck whispers after a moment of bated silence.
--
Buck makes it to Eddie in thirteen minutes.
“I got all greens,” he shrugs. Eddie rolls his eyes because that’s a lie, but he’s secretly relieved Buck made it so fast. Or maybe not so secretly, in the wake of his revelation upstairs.
“Let’s go for a drive up the coast,” Eddie suggests. When he gets into the car, he can see that Buck had packaged up their food and tea, two thermoses carefully balanced in the cup holders Eddie had installed.
“Anywhere in particular?” Buck asks, carefully pulling away from the curb. Eddie shakes his head – he just wants to feel salty breeze and sand between his toes, have Buck hold him while the sound of the waves soothes the static in his mind.
They pass the science center and Eddie makes a mental note to text Christopher later with the dinosaur meme he’d found on Instagram (even though he knows Christopher has probably already seen it). Right now, Eddie focuses on his breathing – in for four, hold for five, out for six. Over and over again until they hit the coast and Buck starts driving north, the rumble of the Chevelle’s engine drowning out Eddie’s intrusive thoughts.
He’s finished his tea by the time Buck pulls in to a small, quiet beach around an hour north of LA. Eddie is out of the car first, kicking off his shoes and rolling up the legs of his sweatpants. The sand is warm and soft underneath his feet, heated by July sunlight. It’s surprisingly not too hot today, and summer has been fairly mild so far.
Eddie makes it halfway to the water before he lets his legs give out from underneath him, sitting in a divot presumably left by someone else enjoying the secluded ocean view. He closes his eyes and listens to the ocean, the audible ebb and flow of the crashing waves on the shore calming Eddie all the way through.
Buck sits next to him, pressing himself into Eddie’s side. His warmth is different to the grainy sand between Eddie’s toes, and brighter than the sun above them. Eddie sometimes thinks that Buck is like the sun, keeping him in orbit with his strong pull and sheer devotion. Eight weeks ago, Eddie had felt overwhelmed by it. Six weeks ago, Eddie started to let himself be enveloped by it. Now? Eddie was all in and couldn’t see a future that didn’t involve Buck. In whatever capacity it might be.
“Eat,” Buck says softly, passing Eddie the Italian sub he’d made.
“Thank-you,” Eddie sighs, knowing Buck understands how deep his gratitude runs.
“When you’re done?” Buck questions, holding up a small heart with his thumb and pointer finger. Eddie nods emphatically because fuck he needs it today. They eat in silence, as they usually do, picking their favourite fruits out of the container between their feet. Buck always leaves the blueberries for Eddie, who eats around the mango because Buck can get mean if he doesn’t get it all.
Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even finished chewing his last mouthful, Buck following suit as he brushes crumbs from his lap. He stretches his arms out and Eddie steps in, his body sagging against Buck who just holds him up and holds him close. Buck’s warmth spreads through Eddie’s entire being, soothing the last of the frayed nerves the tea hadn’t been able to touch.
There’s so much Eddie needs to say, so much Buck needs to hear and understand. Today’s session with Frank had broken free what was loose inside him, the last shards of the glass closet Eddie had built around himself falling away. And he didn’t feel like it was going to destroy him. With Buck holding him like this Eddie feels brave in a way he never has before.
Buck always waits for Eddie to pull away first, holding tight until he feels Eddie’s grip loosen. Today, Eddie holds on for longer than usual, almost swaying to the sound of the waves. Buck is lightly scratching his scalp with his fingertips and the weight of his head resting on top of Eddie’s is grounding. His cheeks aren’t wet when they separate, not today. Buck brushes his thumbs across Eddie’s cheeks anyway as Eddie pulls the piece of paper from Frank out of his pocket, passing it to Buck.
“Frank asked me today what I wanted to see in a future partner for Christopher,” Eddie explains as Buck reads over how Eddie sees him, the list of some of the best things about Buck because there isn’t enough time or space in the world for Eddie to say it all.
“This is a good list,” Buck comments quietly, his voice almost disappearing into the sound of the ocean.
“He asked me if I thought I deserved all of that for myself too,” Eddie adds, kicking at the sand a little with his feet. He can feel Buck’s eyes on him as he watches the ocean, the water foaming on the sand with a fizz.
“And do you?”
“I think I do,” Eddie answers honestly, meeting Buck’s gaze. His expression would probably appear unreadable to anyone else, but Eddie knows Buck down to his core and right now Buck looks...hopeful.
“I know you do, Eddie,” Buck breathes, grabbing Eddie’s hand. He squeezes it tight, threading their fingers together.
“That’s not entirely the point, though. Frank handed me this list and asked me who it sounded like. Who I thought was the right person for me. And uh, I was describing you.”
“What? You were – what?” Buck stutters. “You mean you want someone like me? Like the female version of me? Because I gotta say, I think Chimney would have something to say about you pursuing Maddie.”
“Buck, I’m not talking about Maddie. I’m not talking about a woman. I’m talking about you,” Eddie admits. No session with Frank has ever left him feeling this exposed, this laid bare. He watches Buck as he processes what Eddie has said and sees the moment it clicks.
“Me. You think I’m the right person for you,” Buck chokes out. They’re still holding hands and Eddie can feel Buck shaking.
“I know you are,” Eddie states emphatically. “And I don’t - I don’t need anything from you. If you don’t feel the same way that’s totally fine. You already give me so much more than I could ever ask for. You’re the centre of my god damn universe, Buck. And I’ll take you in whatever way I can.”
“Eddie,” Buck croaks. “ Eddie, fucking hell.”
“I’m sorry if that’s all too much. But I thought it was important that you knew how much you mean to me,” Eddie says. “Because I know you have a hard time seeing your worth when you’re not in uniform. So, I’m showing you.”
Buck looks back down at the piece of paper in the hand not clinging to Eddie.
“I’m gonna frame this,” he states hoarsely. “And I’m writing one for you. Because I need you to know exactly how I feel about you and my brain is just not forming the words right now, But, uh. You’re it for me, Eddie.”
Eddie steps back into Buck’s space and brings one hand up to cup Buck’s cheek, brushing across his birthmark with his thumb. Buck leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut and a soft sigh escaping his lips, inaudible over the ocean.
“Buck,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand again. Buck’s smiles, and it lights up his entire face even with his eyes still closed. Eddie gently takes the paper from Buck’s hand, folds it, and slides it into his back pocket.
“Kiss me,” Buck sighs. “Please.” And who is Eddie to say no to that? He closes the remaining distance between them, brushing his lips softly against Buck’s at first. This feels new, and exciting, and if Eddie is being completely honest with himself (which he’s trying to do more often) a little terrifying. Taking this next step with Buck is risking so much , but the payoff? Absolutely worth it.
Both of Buck’s hands are now in Eddie’s hair, pressing their lips together more insistently. Buck kissing him is so different to Buck holding him, but it makes Eddie feel warm and safe in exactly the same way. The waves keep crashing, the sand is still warm between Eddie’s toes, and Buck feels like home.
--
Buck actually does frame the list Frank gave Eddie, and it sits alongside the one he wrote for Eddie when they got back from the beach that evening. Eddie may have teared up a little but the only person he’ll ever admit that to is Frank, because Buck was there to brush the tears away and promise him forever.