Work Text:
“Fuck!”
The smoke quickly filled the kitchen, and the fire increased when Eddie, without thinking, put the greased pan directly under water, somehow forgetting all the firefighter training he’d ever received in that moment.
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” he ran around, yelping as he hit the pan repeatedly with a towel, proceeding to just fucking drop the whole towel in there, watching as the fire slowly calmed down. The smoke inhalation made his nose burn, and the coughing fit just didn't seem to stop, and right when he thought the situation couldn't possibly get worse, the fire detector started beeping erratically, water pouring down on him and the entire kitchen. He sighed, just accepting his fate as he stood there, hand on his hip.
Work that day had been rather uneventful. They'd barely received any calls. The day had been so boring, they’d managed to play Monopoly for three hours straight without any interruptions. With 15 minutes still left, Eddie asked Bobby if he could go home early and spend some time with Christopher before his bedtime. Bobby had, obviously, said yes.
Just as Eddie stepped foot outside, however, the loud alarm sounded in the firehouse.
Since the shift was nearly over anyway, Bobby assured Eddie that he could go home. Most of the B shift was already in any way. Hen and Chim too were leaving early. Buck, however, the lunatic, decided he had nothing better to do anyway, and accompanied the B-shift to the call, with Bobby filling in as captain since Captain Holloway was not at the station yet.
Eddie had side-hugged Buck, with a promise to save leftovers for him if he decided to come over.
Flashing quick smiles at Hen and Chim, Eddie left to go home.
Which brings him to now, sighing as he opened up the kitchen windows to let out the smoke, his coughing slowing down as the water trickled down his face. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his son and best friend.
The sound of said son’s crutches behind him made him turn around.
The kid looked up at him; the two Diazes staring at each other for a second, before Chris just turned around, walking back into his room. “I'm not even going to ask,” he said, before shutting the door.
“Yeah, thanks for the help, shithead,” he grumbled, spitting out the water that continued pouring down over him and into his mouth.
And since the universe loved fucking with him and keeping him on his toes, the loud ringing of his phone startled him enough to slip and fall. He groaned in pain, moving a bit to figure out if he’d broken something. With the damage assessment coming out positive, he got on his knees, reaching his hand to grab his dripping-wet phone from the counter.
The relief spread through his whole body like warmth on a sunny day when he saw Buck's name flashing on the screen.
“You absolute dick,” he said jokingly as the call connected, ducking to hide under the kitchen table, “why the fuck did you not tell me you replaced the batteries in the smoke detectors? Or that I apparently have a sprinkler system? When did that even happen ?”
A soft laugh came from the other side of the line, for some reason sounding a little wet. “Yeah um, someone had to make sure your home was safe enough to house two children,” he said, sarcastically, “And I knew you would just keep putting it off so I did it last week.”
But Eddie couldn't focus on a word, because Buck was crying.
Buck’s voice was wobbly and cracky, and he was definitely crying, or at least, had been crying.
“Buck? You okay?” Eddie asked, frowning. He ran a hand over his face, wiping off the water as Buck sighed and sniffled.
“Eddie, I need you to listen very carefully. Don't interrupt me, just let me speak. Okay?”
Eddie gulped, not liking where this was going. “Uh, yeah. Sure man. Lay it on me.”
Buck took a shaky breath, “in your kitchen drawer, the one closest to the fridge, there's a small diary. It has every recipe I know. I started writing in it when Bobby started teaching me. Kept it at your place cause keeping it at the loft was pointless. No point in cooking fancy meals for just one person. Uh,” he gulped, “it's very detailed. I don't think even you could mess it up,” he let out a little chuckle, “plus, I've been teaching Chris as well, so you could just be his sous chef. The basic recipes are marked with green tabs, and the harder ones with red,” Eddie frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but Buck cut him off, " I also left a calendar in your room with every daily chore that you usually forget about. And right next to it is a notepad with all of Chris’ favourite places to visit and his schedule so you know when he can visit those plac–”
“Buck, what's going o-”
“No just, let me speak, okay? Just listen. Just one more time Eddie please, just listen to me. Please, Eds,” he practically begs, making Eddie's heart hammer painfully, effectively shutting him up, “there's a box in my loft, tucked under all my coats. It has… well you'll know what to do with it once you open it. There's some stuff in there for all of you that I've been meaning to tell you about,” he takes another shaky breath, a small sob escaping his lips this time, “the laundry machine doesn't start until you kick it twice, okay? An-And could you please give Ms. Dorothy next door a nice gift basket? She’s always so sweet to Me and Chris. And take some treats for her dog too, Chris loves him,” he sobs, “the weekly grocery list is with the recipe book. Don't forget to stock the fridge. I know you forget to do it sometimes, but I need you to take care of yourself more, okay? You have to take care of yourself, Eddie. And you have to remember always, always , how much I love you and Christopher. More than words can ever explain. Please, just say you’ll always remember that.”
Eddie’s face was wet again from the free-flowing tears, face contorted into a frown, “Buck where are you? Are you okay? Are you in danger? Why the hell do you sound like you’re saying goodb-”
“Just say it, Eddie,” Buck drawled out, in a defeated tone. Eddie could picture him now, eyes shut tightly with tears streaming down his face, just like his own. He shook his head, “Buck, I swear to god-”
The line beeped loudly, cutting the connection.
Eddie frowned, pulling his phone away from his ear. His breathing was turning erratic now, as he shakily tried to turn it on to call Buck back, frowning when nothing happened. He pressed the power button over and over again, but all he could see on the screen was his own shaken and scared face staring back at him.
And yet again, because apparently, giving Eddie panic attacks was the universe’s form of entertainment, the landline started ringing loudly.
He rolled out from under the table, realizing he hadn't even noticed when the sprinklers had automatically shut off.
Every step he took toward the landline made the pit of dread in his guts grow larger.
With shaky hands, he reached for the telephone, pressing it to his ear.
“Eddie?” his captain’s shaky voice sounded in his ear. Eddie gulped, closing his eyes slowly as his knees started going weak. “Eddie,” Bobby spoke, breathily, “he… we lost him. We lost him this time. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” the older man’s sobs broke through the line, any level of professionalism and composure flying out of the window.
Eddie's hand clutched at his chest, right above his heart. His eyes shut painfully hard, he took a deep breath, then;
“When?” he asked, voice cracking, barely above a whisper.
Bobby’s sobs didn't quiet down, on the contrary, they only got louder.
“An hour ago. His rope snapped. Dead on impact,” he cried, "I-I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know how to–” his voice cracked, “I lost him too. I lost my son, again.”
He struggles to let air into his lungs as he stares at his water filled, absolutely broken, unusable phone.
This time when Eddie falls to the ground, it isn't the water's fault.