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Tommy tried to apologize, tried to offer to help clean up, and suggested to give Buck a ride home.
“Don’t” was Eddie’s first response before the apology could even get past the older man’s lips.
“I’ll deal with it later.” Was his second.
And Buck, merely shook his head and lead the pilot to the front door, hugging him in the doorway with too soft words Eddie doesn’t even try to catch.
He stays seated on the couch, laptop still closed, cone hat crushed in his fist and the stupid noise maker at his feet. Another birthday passing through a lagging computer screen. Another person he loves upset and angry for his choices.
Except there’s silence that echoes around him instead of the bustle of an army encampment. His body isn’t weighed down by miliary gear and the ever presence fear of dying in the sands of war. Eddie is no longer that man in his early 20’s, running from his problems. Now he’s just a man in his mid-thirties, watching his son run away from him.
The couch dips to his right and warmth seeps into his numb body. It spreads around his back and over his left shoulder. The band of muscles around him, flex, pulling Eddie deeper and pushing the numbness further away.
Eddie doesn’t even try to fight it. He closes his eyes, tipping his body sideways and burying his face into his best friend’s shoulder.
Buck doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t try to apologize or offer to help clean, and he doesn’t suggest leaving Eddie to wallow alone. Because he doesn’t need to say any of those things.
Apologies from Buck aren’t going to salvage the failed birthday surprise. Offers to clean the dollar store decorations and store-bought cupcakes will in no way make a dent in the disarray that is Eddie’s relationship with his son. And Eddie knows better than anyone, Buck is never going to leave him alone in this mess.
Side by side they sit in the silence that has been lingering since Christopher left for Texas. Eddie breaths in the mixture of Buck’s cologne, laundry detergent, and something that is just uniquely Buck. He takes breath after breath, and Buck matches each one with his own. Same rhythm. Same speed. Same heartache.
They sit there for minutes, hours, maybe even the rest of evening. The time didn’t matter, but this moment did, and Eddie needed to stay in it for just a little longer. He needed the line of warmth from Buck to chase away the remaining ache. He needed just a few more deep breaths with Buck’s scent lingering in the back of his throat. He needed Buck to keep holding onto him. He needed the silence to try and remember the echoes of previous birthdays where Christopher didn’t scoff, but smiled and laughed and returned his father’s hugs. He needed his son back.
But at this moment, his son didn’t need him.
It sobers Eddie, admitting that and he comes back to himself, breaking the bubble he secluded himself in with Buck.
He pulls his head from Buck’s shoulder and with a squeeze of his hand to Buck’s knee, Buck drops his arm, but the strength of his support remains. And when Eddie rises to his feet, disconnecting himself from Buck’s side, his warmth, his love, clings and doesn’t allow the numbness to return.
The silence is still there. The hurt and echoes of laughter’s past still resonance around them. There is still a mess. But Eddie isn’t alone with any of it.
Buck grabs the trash bag he laid out earlier and plucks the crumpled party hat from Eddie’s laxed grip. It makes the slightest rustle when dropped in the bag and again when followed by Buck’s red one.
“No cone hats next year, they’re uncomfortable.” Buck states as he tosses Tommy’s discarded blue hat in.
He reaches for the noise maker on the floor and Eddie manages to allow the smallest spark of hope to erupt with a tiny smile, “What do you suggest instead?”
The noise maker disappears into the trash bag and Buck’s eyes catch Eddie’s, lighting up with giddiness, “Depends. Disney has the mickey ears, but what about universal? Shrek ears? Troll hair? Minion bald caps?”
A grand birthday plan is already in the works for Christopher’s 15th. Because Buck could see past pool clubs and renovation talks. He is seeing past the tangles in Eddie’s and Christopher’s distant relationship, beyond the anger and sadness. His hope is larger than a single spark and one day, it will charge Eddie’s own.
One day, but not today. So, Eddie shakes his head at Buck’s hat contemplations and makes his way over to the cupcake stand that is only missing one. “You’re baking these next year.” Eddie says softly.
Buck comes up behind him beaming, “You’re helping.”
Exactly what he needed to hear.