Chapter Text
Eddie Diaz was used to bullshit. After years in the Army, his parents, and the years of things he had seen in his time with the 118, he was used to it. But when a teenager not much older than Christopher set an entire factory on fire trying to gain a few views on TikTok, Eddie has to make a valiant effort to not bang his head against the ladder truck until he can just go home with a concussion.
After a normal twelve hour shift quickly turned to sixteen with the scale of the fire, Eddie's back was killing him. Maybe it was some after effect of the shooting, or the bridge collapse, or any other myriad of terrible occurrences he had suffered in his lifetime. Looking over to his left, he could tell Buck wasn't much better.
"You okay, Buck?"
"Yeah," Buck said, grimacing. Bullshit.
"You're so full of it. Come on, out with it. What's up?" Eddie was not in the mood for games tonight. He was supposed to be off at six and it was nearing ten thirty. Not even including the fact that they were supposed to be going to Cap and Athena's tomorrow to celebrate their new house.
"My leg just kind of hurts. It does that sometimes, it's nothing." It's not nothing, and you know it.
"Alright, get up. You can sleep at mine tonight."
"Wha- Eds, no."
"Yes. Now get up, let's go."
Eddie knew for a fact that if he let Buck go home, he wasn't going to trudge up all the stairs to get to bed and would probably just sleep on the monstrosity his mother called a couch. He may not know much, but he knew Buck, and he knew he would rather follow through with his concussion plan than let Buck cramp himself up on the world's most terrible sofa.
Buck groaned, but complied with Eddie's demand. He knew that arguing with the wall would have better results than arguing with Eddie on no sleep. Grabbing his keys and his bag, he brushed past Eddie.
"If we're going, then let's go. I'll follow you."
Eddie shook his head. "I'll drive us both. I don't want you driving on your leg with how it is right now, and we were going to ride to Bobby and Athena's together tomorrow anyway. We can pick up your Jeep on the way back."
Once again, Buck just nodded and followed Eddie out of the station. Buck climbed into the truck, trying to hold his moan back at how hard it was with his leg. He glanced at Eddie, who was either oblivious to the whole thing or trying to save a sliver of Buck's dignity. Probably the latter. Eddie was good like that.
The ride home was quiet, bar the music playing in the background. Chris had come back from Texas with a love for country music, something that hadn't dissolved even a year later, much to Eddie's chagrin.
They pulled up to Eddie's house, smiling softly at the light still on at the front door for them. Carla was gone, having left once she knew the boys were on their way home. Chris had hit an age where he didn't need as much help at night, so they weren't worried. They clambered out of the truck and into the house.
"D'you want to borrow some sweats or something?" Eddie asked, breaking the silence that had enveloped the house.
"Huh?" Buck was falling asleep standing up.
"You can't sleep in your current clothes, dude. I am going to grab some sweatpants and maybe a new shirt too. Your legs will thank you tomorrow. You go make up the couch and I will grab the clothes."
Buck just stared at him until Eddie made a little 'go' motion with his hand. Buck walked, more likely crawled, to the living room and put the sheets on the couch. By the time he was nearing the end, Eddie pulled the last corner of the sheet onto the couch and thrust a bundle of clothes into his hands.
"Good night, Buck."
"Good night, Eddie."
Buck got changed and laid down, smiling when he noticed Eddie had given Buck the fuzzy blanket they often fought over during movie nights. He let his eyes shut, knowing tomorrow would be a fun day of friends, family, and Bobby's cooking.