Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buck’s first thought when he hangs up the phone is how much this will hurt Maddie. He’s halfway to her house when it finally hits him that he should be hurting too, that he just lost someone too. But, he doesn’t have time to think about that, not right now; Maddie takes top priority, only priority.

She has to know already, there’s no way his dad called him first. Today was the first day either of his parents had talked to him in over six months, and now… he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to follow that thread, doesn’t want to reach its inevitable conclusion.

He pulls up outside of Maddie and Chim’s house and heaves a breath, hands tightening around the steering wheel, torn between a desperation to reach Maddie as fast as possible, to soothe her in her grief, and a persistent fear: that seeing Maddie come undone will make everything real, will make his mother’s death something tangible, undeniable. At least he’ll be able to focus on Maddie, pour every ounce of himself into her comfort until he doesn’t have any room left to focus on his own pain.

But, sitting in his car and spiraling into himself isn’t helping anyone. So, he forces himself out of the Jeep and jogs to the front door, throwing his fist against the wood in a rapid knock. He barely has to wait a second before the door is yanked open.

Chimney is standing in front of him, hair disheveled. There’s a damp patch near the shoulder of his shirt, and his eyes are wide, frantic. Even Chimney looks to be further in grief than Buck feels, and he doesn’t know how to process that. Luckily, he doesn’t have any time to dwell on Chimney’s pain and weigh it against his own. Chim lets out a relieved breath at the sight of Buck and his hand darts forward, latching on to Buck’s shirt and pulling him inside.

“I was just about to call you,” he starts, voice quiet. “Maddie’s in the living room. She’s been crying on and off for an hour.” Buck falters, tripping over his feet and narrowly avoiding crashing into Chimney. An hour… how many people did his dad call between him and Maddie? How far down on the list was he? He wants to be angry about it, that his mom died and it seems like he was one of the last people his dad called, but he’s just met with the same ever present pain he’s come to associate with his parents. It shouldn’t still hurt, it shouldn’t come as anything close to a surprise, but…

Chimney is still talking, and Buck realizes he has missed at least half of what he said, too lost in his own thoughts. He shakes his head, clenches his hands, and lets his nails dig into his skin as he forces his mind to focus again. Now is not the time to evaluate just how unimportant he really is to his father; he came here for Maddie. And besides, he’s almost positive he wouldn’t want to know the answer.

“Anyways, you’re just in time, I have to go pick up Jee from Hen and Karen’s. I was gonna go earlier, I’m already late, but my phone was dead and I couldn’t call you and I really didn’t want to leave Maddie alone,” He’s speaking rapidly now, clearly in a rush.

“Chim,” Buck starts, interrupting him as he’s halfway through muttering something about car keys. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here now, I’ll go sit with Maddie. You can go. Pick up Jee.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks. Thank you.” He watches Chim rush out the door, and turns back toward the living room. Buck scans the room until his gaze lands on Maddie, and he freezes at the sight of her, a wave of grief finally hitting him- though his pain is secondary, related entirely to Maddie herself. There’s something in Maddie’s pain that will always make him feel like he’s being ripped open, like he’s standing with every nerve ending exposed. Maddie has been through so much, more than anyone should ever have to deal with, and seeing her now- head tucked between her knees and almost completely folded into herself- devastates him.

Buck crosses the room, quick and determined. He pulls Maddie into his arms as soon as he reaches the couch, tucking her face into his shoulder as she collapses into him.

“Buck,” Maddie’s voice is raw, scratched thin from crying.

“I know,” Buck responds, and it feels like a lie on his tongue, but he says it anyway. He pulls Maddie closer, rubs his hands up and down her back in a desperate, soothing gesture. And, for a while, they sit like that, holding each other close in a silence only broken with intermittent cries from Maddie, her tears slowly dampening the front of his shirt.

A part of him is scared of Maddie’s grief, at how easily it dwarfs his own, at how easily it comes out of her, like it’s something natural, instead of a scab she has to pick at. He had never been the ideal son, and now, even in his mother’s death, he was failing her, he couldn’t even grieve right.

It wasn’t like his parents were completely different people with Maddie, they were still bad parents: neglectful and lost in themselves, prone to outbursts. But, they didn’t look at her like they were looking at their dead son, like they would rather someone else be in her place. She was just Maddie to them. Her existence wasn’t tied so completely to someone else's. They had Maddie because they wanted her. They had Buck, because they wanted to keep Daniel. He was never wanted by them, not for himself, not as anything more than parts. Buck had failed them from the very moment he was born.

He knows everything that he should be feeling, he’s felt grief before after all, he’s never been a stranger to loss. But, the loss of his mother- the death of his mother- it doesn’t feel like any pain he’s accustomed to. He feels frozen, unsure, guilty- so guilty. He almost wants himself to break, thinks it would feel better, that at least if he was drowning in sadness he would feel normal. But, nothing about his relationship to his parents will ever be normal, his mother’s death is yet another testament to that.

And, once again, he finds himself falling into Maddie’s grief in lieu of his own. Maddie is crying in his arms, and it hurts so much more than the phone call with his father. Eventually, Maddie pulls back, not far, just enough so they can look at each other. She sniffles lightly, a feeble attempt to stop her nose from running. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, struggling to form her thoughts into a coherent sentence.

Buck hesitates for a second, “I’m sorry, I would’ve been here sooner but,” he stops himself. “I’m sorry.” Maddie shakes her head, rejecting his apology.

“I don’t,” she pauses, chewing on her lower lip. “More than anything, I don't know what to tell Jee. She’s still so young, she’s never lost anyone before. I’ve never- I didn’t think I’d have to do this so soon…”

Buck’s mind instantly goes to Chris, of sitting next to him in his bedroom and telling him that his dad wasn’t coming home. No matter how much time has passed, the memory of that night always leaves him unsettled: how quickly he fell apart, and how Chris held him through his grief.

He doesn’t think he would know what to tell Jee either. He’s still learning how to be a parent, still hoping with everything in him that Chris will never feel like he felt growing up. Though, he reminds himself (he is constantly reminding himself), he isn’t a dad, no matter how much he loves Chris. It feels selfish, to assume that position in his life, to take over a role he was never offered.

But, this isn’t about Chris, this is different. Someone didn’t almost die, they died. And now, Maddie has to figure out how to tell her daughter that she’ll never see her grandmother again. Buck shifts, pulling his arm from behind Maddie’s back and grabbing on to her hands instead. Her hands are shaking, or maybe he’s the one shaking, he can’t tell anymore.

“Hey,” he squeezes her hand, tilting his head until their eyes meet. “You’ll figure it out. You’re the best mom I know,” Maddie flinches slightly, but she nods at the reassurance, offering Buck a small, watery smile. “Just be honest with her, and be there for her.” She nods again, and her breath slowly begins to even out.

The conversation dies off quickly, both of them still too shocked to do much more than sit together and hold one another. Time passes in an indeterminate blur, and they begin to sink further and further into the couch as exhaustion takes over. Eventually, the front door opens again, Chimney walking in with a sleeping Jee-Yun tucked into his arms. Maddie blinks slowly, coming back to herself, and pushes up from the couch to follow Chim and tuck Jee in.

Buck is once again reminded of what an incredible mom Maddie is- even consumed by grief, even when her child isn’t awake to know she’s there- Maddie is supportive, comforting, constantly trying to give Jee-Yun the absolute best. And, no matter how often Buck tells her how incredible she is, he knows she doesn’t always believe him, that those months she was gone often cling to the forefront of her mind. She had always been far too quick to focus on her mistakes and discard everything good, and Doug certainly hadn’t helped with that.

So, Buck would compliment her over and over again, because he meant it and because she deserved to hear it. He wanted to be there for Maddie the way she had always been there for him- to protect her, even if it was from her own negative thoughts.

He knew that Maddie kept some of her pain from him, that she felt it was her duty as an older sister to protect him. But, that no longer worried him as much as it used to. Maddie had Chimney now, Chimney who she allowed to see her pain and support her in ways she had never allowed Buck. And, as annoying as it had been when they first started dating, Buck would never stop being grateful that they found each other.

The living room light flicks on, and Buck startles, almost having forgotten where he was.

“Hey,” Chimney greets, his voice is gentle, lacking its usual teasing tone. Chim and Maddie are leaning against one another, each shouldering the other’s weight so completely that if either of them moved, the other would fall.

“We’ve got an early shift tomorrow. I should probably go. Let us all get some rest.” Though, he doesn’t think any of them will be getting much sleep tonight.

“I’m sure Cap would give you the day off,” Chimney responds and Buck winces. A day all alone or a day surrounded by his family, helping people- not exactly a difficult choice to make.

“Yeah, I think I’m good, man.”

“Buck-”

“I said I’m good.” His tone comes out harsher than intended and he deflates, physically forces himself to relax his shoulders and suck in a breath. “I want to go to work,” he tries again. “I’ll be okay.” Is it bad? To go to work after something like this? Is this something else that points to his brokenness?

Buck starts toward the door again, and Maddie stops him, pulling him into her arms. “I love you. Get home safe.”

“Love you too, Mads.”

“Call me if you need anything?” He knows it’s a question, but judging by her tone, it’s not optional. He gives it about a 50/50 chance that he’ll call, but he nods anyway, wanting to reassure her.

He’s slow walking to the door, delaying the inevitable even though he’s the one that made the decision to leave.

Buck drives home and he tries not to think about his mother. He tries not to think about Maddie and how he can still feel her tears drying into his shirt. He fails. It is so much harder to distract himself when he’s alone. He tries to force other things to the forefront of his mind- the documentary he just watched, the four alarm fire they had last week, the new pasta recipe Bobby just taught him. Nothing sticks; he doesn’t make it more than a second before he’s right back where he started: alone in his car with the inescapable knowledge that his mom is dead.

Chapter Text

Buck has been coming over a lot recently. Well, Buck had always come over a lot. But, the last few months, they'd been nearly inseparable.

The weeks after Chris left, ferried away to Texas by his grandparents, Eddie had felt numb. He tried to give Chris space, he didn't want to push, not so soon after he had messed up so catastrophically, but he missed his son so much. Chris had agreed, reluctantly, to a weekly video call. But, even then, Chris would barely look at him, even through a screen, even with almost 800 miles between them. Chris, who would normally talk for hours and hours, was giving him one word answers to every question he asked him.

And, he knew why, of course he knew why, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He had been to war, he had been shot multiple times, he had almost drowned, but nothing- nothing- compared to the pain of his son refusing to look at him.

So, Chris was gone, and though every week he warmed to Eddie again more and more (one word answers becoming one sentence answers, his refusal to look at Eddie shifting into brief and fleeting eye contact that lasted longer and longer each time), he still felt his absence like a missing limb. He still worried that he had messed up irreparably, that Chris would rather stay with his parents than with him, and though he would never let him, would have to eventually put his foot down and get his own child back, he wanted to let Chris make his own choice, he wanted him to want to come home, back to him and Buck and LA. He didn’t want to build any more resentment, didn’t want to make this process any more painful than it already was. So, he had been happy to accept any progress he made with Chris, to let Chris control their reconciliation- at least to start with.

It was just a week after Chris left when Eddie started therapy again. He only convinced himself to start by telling himself that he was doing it for Chris. But, he knew that wasn't entirely true, he wanted to heal, to stop leaving old wounds to fester until the rot began to seep out. He had felt broken, irreparable, for years. And, he didn't want to feel like that anymore. So, he went back to therapy, flayed himself open weekly and let Frank sort through the pieces: a living autopsy.

It was one of the most exhausting things he had ever done, and Frank didn’t let him hide, didn’t let him avoid a single topic, something that Eddie both loved and despised him for. Because part of him wanted to keep hiding, even though hiding from himself was the very reason his life was in shambles in the first place. There was a comfort in the familiar, in keeping old wounds buried as deep as possible.

Because, when Frank made him stop and look at everything: why he had been so determined to make it work with Shannon, why he looked for a mom for Chris instead of looking for love for himself, why he pushed Marisol away, why he couldn’t bring himself to love Ana, why he panicked at the thought of commitment to any woman, but wrote Buck into his will without a second's hesitation. Well, it all led to one answer, an answer that once unearthed, once said out loud, he would never be able to ignore again.

It was easy to look away from something you had spent your whole life looking away from, easy to avoid a part of yourself when you were taught so young that that part of yourself was fundamentally wrong, broken. Because, Eddie had known deep down, had purposely kept this part of himself buried as deep as possible: pretended that he didn’t have a crush on his best friend growing up, pretended that his eyes didn’t linger on men in a way they never had on women, pretended that his feelings for Buck were entirely, completely platonic.

Admitting to Frank that he was gay was the most terrifying and freeing thing he had ever done. He kept going to therapy, deconstructing years of repression, of internalized self-hatred, and the world didn’t end. So, maybe, just maybe, this was something he was allowed to have.

Despite his growing self-acceptance and understanding, he still hadn’t been ready to share his newfound realization with anyone outside of Frank. It felt too soon, too raw. He wasn’t ready to answer questions that he still didn’t fully know the answers to himself. And, then there was the obvious, the fact that telling the team he was gay would make his feelings for Buck even more glaringly apparent than they already were.

So, he had thrown himself into work, put as much energy into the job, into distracting himself, as possible. But, as soon as he got home, he would instantly deflate, unable to keep up the charade with no one to perform for. And, every day, like clockwork, Buck was there: dragging him out of bed, making him dinner, forcing him out of the house (“You need sun Eddie, it’s a serotonin booster”) or joining him for hours in front of the TV. Never once complaining, never once wavering. He would alternate between teasing and soft, depending on the day or the hour, like he knew exactly what Eddie needed to stay afloat.

It didn't take long for Buck and Tommy to break up, and Eddie couldn't help but feel that he was at least partially to blame. Buck had been dating Tommy and practically spending every waking second at Eddie's house, not exactly the ideal start to a relationship. So, yeah, though Buck had never explicitly said so, Eddie was almost positive he had something to do with their breakup.

He couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. Buck could do much better than Tommy. Tommy, who called Buck by the wrong name. Tommy, who never put any effort into planning dates. Tommy, who never seemed to even enjoy being around Buck: rolling his eyes at Buck’s fun facts, talking over and dismissing him at every opportunity- something that still completely and totally baffled Eddie, what kind of person wouldn’t enjoy being around Buck?

Buck didn’t seem too put out by the breakup either, he had always looked at least vaguely uncomfortable every time Eddie had seen them together. And, he had never smiled at Tommy the way he smiles at Eddie: soft and fond. So, Eddie didn’t feel too bad over his joy at Tommy’s permanent exit from both of their lives, especially when it meant seeing Buck even more than usual.

It didn’t take long after his gay realization to reach his “oh shit I’m in love with Buck” realization. In fact, the “in love with Buck” realization might have even come before the gay one if he really thought about it. But, well, there was a difference between knowing he was in love with Buck, and actually acting on it.

Eddie was unused to not flinching away from himself, his brain had always taken any semblance of a gay thought and immediately locked it away, keeping his longing muffled under layers of trauma and Catholic guilt. So, although the longing was nothing new, his awareness of it changed everything. All of a sudden, he felt awkward and unsure, aware of himself in a way he had never been before, and that only multiplied when he was around Buck. Buck, who had been his best friend for years, who was the most important person in his life after Christopher. Buck, who he gave everything to, who gave him everything right back, and still he wanted more. And, that wanting terrified him, he didn’t know what to do with it.

But then, Buck had come over after his breakup with Tommy, dejected after another failed relationship, going on and on about how maybe he just wasn’t meant for love. And, with that, Eddie found something more important than his fear: he became increasingly committed to proving Buck wrong, to showing him that he was worth the effort, and that he already had someone who would spend the rest of his life loving him.

He had been trying to test the waters: letting himself touch Buck more often, letting those touches linger longer and longer, increasing his compliments, refusing to look away when Buck caught him staring. And so far it had got him… absolutely nowhere. Buck didn’t question any of it. He accepted it all with a smile on his face.

If Eddie put his arm around him on the couch? Buck would just lean into him, humming contentedly. If he told him how good his cooking was, complimented him on his rescues, told him his shirt looked particularly good on him- Buck would smile and blush and thank him. But, he never once questioned him. Eddie had thought he could wear Buck down, give him enough confidence that Eddie was a sure thing so that maybe he would confess himself, save Eddie the risk. Or, the less favored alternative, maybe Buck would finally draw a line, tell Eddie to dial it back; at least that would be an answer.

But, Buck didn’t tell him to stop, he didn’t pull away. Even worse, he had started complimenting Eddie back, matching the increased level of affection with ease. He didn’t look away when he would catch Eddie staring, he would meet his gaze and smile, like staring longingly at each other was an everyday occurrence for them. Though… maybe it was. So, this was their new normal. It was driving Eddie absolutely insane.

But, tonight, Buck was late. He wasn’t worried at first, even though Buck tends to be on time (well, he tends to be on time when he’s hanging out with Eddie or Chris, everyone else is kind of hit or miss). Because he knows that Buck gets distracted every once in a while, falls down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and completely loses track of time. So, he wasn’t worried, but it’s been an hour now, and Buck is never this late.

He has good news for once, for the first time in what feels like months, and he needs to see Buck. Good news never feels entirely real until he shares it with him. The more time that passes, the more he can feel his joy fading, replaced with an all-consuming worry, a special brand of anxiety that only seems to apply when it comes to Chris or Buck.

He’s sitting in the kitchen now, leg bouncing as he stares at his text chain with Buck, his last message not only unanswered, but not even read. And, that’s bad, right? What if something happened to him? Buck has had too many near death experiences for Eddie’s sanity, and that’s just in the years that he’s known him. Who knows what happened in the 26 years before Eddie met him?

And, the more he thinks about it, the easier it becomes to convince himself that Buck is dying in a ditch somewhere. He unlocks his phone again, and stares at his text thread with Buck, like he can make a response appear through sheer willpower. Nothing. Still nothing. He locks his phone. Unlocks it. Looks at the time again. Fuck it. He grabs his car keys.

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Buck isn’t home. Eddie has been pacing his loft for an hour, and he still isn’t home. His Jeep is missing from its usual parking spot, so he must have gone… somewhere, but Eddie doesn’t find that comforting either, because he’s still gone. He gave up on calling him when he got to the loft and found Buck’s phone abandoned on the kitchen counter. And, even though he loses it constantly, Buck never goes anywhere without the damn thing, another red flag that has Eddie spiraling even further. He tried calling Maddie, but her phone went straight to voicemail. Which, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t be a cause for concern, but nothing about tonight feels normal.

He’s one second away from calling Athena to file a missing persons report. So what if it’s only been two and a half hours? Eddie really doesn’t care. And, he doubts Athena would care either, it’s Buck. He’s in the middle of scrolling through his contacts to find Athena’s number, when the door to the loft finally, finally opens. He’s across the room in a second, pulling the door the rest of the way open before Buck gets the chance.

“Eddie?” Buck smiles slightly, the way he always seems to do when he’s greeting Eddie. But, he looks more tired than usual, like something is physically weighing him down. “What are you- shit. Shit, I’m sorry, I was supposed to meet you tonight-”

Eddie moves closer, barely thinking as he latches on to Buck’s arm and pulls, gentle and insistent, till they’re standing perfectly under the kitchen light.

“Eddie- what?” He looks over Buck again, moving closer and mentally cataloging every inch of him. He runs his hands down Buck’s arms, presses into his ribs, grabs his face and shifts it so the light covers it in its entirety. There’s a small, fading bruise across his forehead. But, Eddie knows that bruise, remembers the exact day Buck got it, so it’s nothing new, nothing to provoke immediate concern. He knows there’s something wrong, it’s practically radiating off Buck. But, physically, he’s in perfect health. There’s not a single scratch or bruise that wasn’t there when he saw him earlier that day.

“You’re okay? I just- you didn’t answer and I thought maybe…” he trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“No. I’m okay,” Buck says, in the tone of someone who is definitely not okay. But, he’s here. He’s right in front of Eddie and he’s leaning into his hands, and- Eddie realizes then that his hands are still cupping Buck’s cheeks, tracing across his skin in a gesture both soothing and reverential. And, maybe if this was a few months ago, he would’ve pulled away. But, this is now, and he has spent the last couple of hours convinced Buck was bleeding out somewhere. So, he lets himself have this.

“Buck-”

“What did you want to tell me?”

“What?”

“You texted me earlier, said you had good news. You didn’t forget already, did you? I didn’t think you were that old yet, but-”

“Oh, shut up.” Eddie knows Buck is avoiding the subject, purposely redirecting the conversation before he can ask what happened, but Buck is looking at him with something akin to desperation. So, he won’t push, not tonight. Buck will tell him when he’s ready. And, well, he did have good news- great news. And, despite everything, despite the fact that his heart still hasn’t stopped racing, he can feel a smile spreading across his face.

“I do have good news,” Eddie says, finally dropping his hands and taking a small step back.

Buck huffs, but he looks just a little bit lighter than he did a few minutes ago, like he’s absorbed some of Eddie’s joy, like their happiness is one and the same. “Well, are you gonna share? Or are you just gonna stand there smiling at me until I guess?”

“Chris is coming home.”

Buck blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the statement. And then, all at once, a wide smile breaks out over his face.

“Really?” Eddie nods, and Buck’s smile somehow grows even bigger. Eddie feels his heart trip over itself. He wants to watch Buck smile for the rest of his life. “When?”

“End of the month, he has a chess club tournament in a few weeks and he didn’t want to miss it.” Buck nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet, before he lurches forward, eliminating the miniscule space between them and pulling Eddie into his arms. Eddie leans into him instantly, burying his face in Buck’s neck.

The crushing pressure of the hug eventually shifts, turning into something exceedingly gentle. Eddie can’t bring himself to pull away, and it’s evident that Buck can’t either, as he begins to melt further and further into Eddie’s arms, holding onto him like he never wants to let go.

“Okay,” Eddie forces himself to take a step back. He clears his throat, trying to get his brain to focus again. “We should probably head to bed. We have work in,” he looks at his watch and winces. “6 hours.”

“Shit, yeah,” Buck says, and Eddie nods and turns around to grab his keys. He’s already dreading the drive home, dreading spending the night alone when he knows somethings wrong, even if Buck is committed to avoiding the topic.

“Okay, come on,” and Buck is grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the stairs.

“I was gonna-”

“Eddie,” Buck sounds exasperated. “It’s late, we have to be up early, just stay here. C’mon,” he insists, tugging on Eddie’s arm again. Eddie follows easily.

They reach the top of the stairs and Buck lets go of his arm to rummage through his drawers. He turns back to Eddie and hands him a tee shirt.

They’ve been upstairs for less than a minute, and Buck has already deflated, the joy of Chris coming home not enough to keep away whatever’s haunting him. He still has a quiet smile on his face, but there’s something missing in his eyes, like he isn’t fully in his body. He looks like he’s seconds away from falling apart, like he has already cracked into pieces and is only being held together by fraying tape.

Eddie wants to ask. He can feel the worry physically sinking into his bones. But, he doesn’t want to push, not just yet, that’s not what they do. Eddie has to let Buck choose to come to him, even if the wait is excruciating. So, he doesn’t ask. He lets Buck pretend that tonight is just like any other night.

-------------------------------

They’ve stayed at each other’s places enough times that they have a set routine now: taking turns using the restroom and changing for the night, before brushing their teeth side by side. It’s time efficient. It’s also achingly domestic. They’re standing in front of the sink, shoulders pressed together. Eddie is wearing one of Buck’s old work tee shirts, the one he always wears when he stays at the loft. It’s far from the comfiest shirt Buck owns, but he gave it to Eddie to wear one day when the rest of his sleep shirts were in the wash, and he immediately became attached to it. It feels right: having Buck’s name stamped across his back.

Buck has kept a toothbrush for Eddie at his loft for years now. And, Eddie thinks smugly, Buck had never gotten Tommy one. He had to pack an overnight bag every single time he stayed over, a glaring testament to how temporary his place in Buck’s life was.

Christopher, of course, had been the first one to get a permanent toothbrush at the loft. When he had first started staying over at Buck’s, Buck had gotten him a superhero toothbrush, told Chris that the plain ones were boring. Chris had insisted on getting Buck a matching one, and obviously they couldn’t leave Eddie out. After that, themed toothbrushes became a thing; Buck had even ordered some online when they’d run their local stores nearly dry. Chris had slowly become less enthusiastic about them, but Buck was insistent, and Chris- despite his teenage posturing- never actually told him to stop.

Eddie’s current toothbrush was designed to look like an elephant. Buck had got them all matching animal toothbrushes a few months before Chris had left. Chris had rolled his eyes, complained half heartedly that he was too old for it, but Eddie saw him hide a small smile.

Buck had stood in the aisle for 10 minutes trying to figure out which animal to get each of them. Chris was a penguin (“obviously”). Eddie, apparently, was an elephant. Buck had watched a documentary about elephants the week prior and had spent almost an hour their next shift talking about it, going on and on about what good parents they were. So, naturally, he got Eddie an elephant toothbrush. Buck’s own toothbrush was giraffe themed, on Chris’ insistence.

Eddie spits out his toothpaste and places his toothbrush back in the holder, next to Chris’. And, for the first time in months, the sight of it makes him smile. Chris is coming home.

Chapter Text

There’s a second when Buck wakes up in the morning where he feels calm, happy. Eddie’s back is pressed against his, and for a moment, that is the only thing that matters. It doesn’t take long for his quiet contentment to fade, his memories of the previous evening returning to him far quicker than he would have liked. And, just like that, he is completely and fully awake, veins filled with an anxious, buzzing energy.

It’s still dark outside, and he knows without checking his phone that he has hours till he has to be at the station. Despite this, he managed to get more sleep than he thought he would. And, after yesterday, he figured he was lucky to get any sleep at all. Though, maybe it had less to do with luck, and more to do with Eddie. He always slept better next to him.

Buck gets out of bed slowly, determined to let Eddie sleep in. He knows Eddie hasn’t been sleeping well lately, and he doesn’t want to be the reason he loses any more sleep. And, if letting Eddie sleep in has the added bonus of allowing Buck to keep his mothers death to himself for a couple more hours, well, that’s fine too. He gets dressed in the dark, guided by muscle memory alone.

He’s nearly two hours early for his shift when he gets to the station. Most of C shift is out on a call, which is probably for the best. He doesn’t think he would be the most lively company at the moment. He beelines to the empty gym, and starts adding weights to the barbell, stacking on more than usual.

Buck has always liked working out. He likes the way it quiets his mind, lets him focus on his body instead of his racing thoughts. It’s why he joined the football team in high school, he needed something to tire himself out, something that took all of his mental and physical energy.

And, the more tired he was, the easier it was to sleep, something he had struggled with for as long as he could remember. He had spent so many sleepless nights trying to figure out what was wrong with him, because somehow the people who were supposed to love him unconditionally barely wanted anything to do with him. He wanted to figure out what he had done wrong, so he could fix it, so they could like him. He wanted his parents to look at him with something other than anger or indifference or grief. He had wanted so badly to make them happy. And, despite how many nights he had lain awake, he had never figured out the answer, never found a way to meet their expectations, to be good enough for them.

He did eventually start sleeping better (to a degree), especially after joining the football team. Though, the nights when he had tired himself out enough to fall asleep weren’t much better. His dreams were rarely gentle. He would fall asleep and watch Maddie leave over and over again.
He would fall asleep and wake up in a hospital, cold and scared and alone. And, even in his dreams, his parents ignored him. Even in his subconscious, in his fantasies, he never got the love he craved so desperately. But, every once in a while, when he was lucky, he would dream of playing cards with a boy much younger than him, a boy that never aged no matter how long he had been having the same dream. That dream had always been his favorite, even if it came with a sadness he had never understood.

He had been sleeping better the last few months, his mind calmer than usual, nightmares becoming less frequent. Though, he can already tell that short period of reprieve has come to a screaming end.

So, he’s back doing what he’s always done, hoping that he can tire himself out enough to quiet his mind, to get more than a couple of hours of sleep tonight. He works himself harder than usual, sweat building on his brow and steadily dripping down his face and into his eyes. Only, it isn’t working this time. He’s on his 3rd set of reps, and his brain still feels like a 10 lane freeway during rush hour. He has a feeling this isn’t something he can outrun. No matter how much he works out, no matter how much he desperately tries to redirect his thoughts to anything else, there is still only one thing on his mind.

It’s been less than a day, and his mother is already haunting him. His thoughts are consumed with disjointed memories and feelings, every single one of them revolving around his mom, every single one of them bad. And, once again, he is struck with overwhelming guilt, because his mother is dead, and he’s spent the whole morning remembering how much pain she caused him. He has to have good memories with her, he knows he does. It’s impossible that every single interaction he had with her was bad, but those were the ones that stood out, that branded into his mind like a scar. And, if he concentrates on the good memories, will that make it better or worse? Would it hurt more to mourn the good memories or the bad? Is it disrespectful to only mourn a fraction of a person?

He can’t do this right now. He doesn’t have time to sort through every single memory of his mother and pick out the good, he has a shift to work. Though, that wouldn’t have been a problem if he had called out like Chim suggested. So, the excuse is weak even to him; he doesn't have time to think about his mother, because he made sure he didn’t have time.

Buck racks his weights and wipes at the pool of sweat on his forehead. He still has time for a shower before his shift, and he definitely needs a shower. He makes his way to the locker room, picking up speed as his throat begins to burn.

-------------------------------

The station seems busier when he gets out of the shower, people finally arriving for their shifts. Buck quickly puts his uniform on, allowing the small talk of the locker room to fall around him. He isn’t processing most of what they’re saying, only catching a word here or there, but he finds it comforting anyways; the noise is a welcome reprieve from the relative quiet of the last couple hours. He finishes tying his shoes and pushes off the bench, trying to shift his brain into work mode.

The last few stragglers from C shift are heading out for the day, and he forces a smile and waves back at some of them as they walk past him to the parking lot. He can hear voices drifting down from upstairs, and he rushes to join his team. He always feels better when he’s with them, even when it feels like the world is falling apart around him. He reaches the top of the stairs, and- for the first time in over an hour- it feels like he can breathe again.

“Hey guys,” Buck greets, keeping his voice as cheery as possible. “What’s for breakfast?” No one answers. In fact, the room has gone quiet since his arrival, conversations cutting off mid-sentence. He looks around, confused. Most of his coworkers are either already looking at him or actively avoiding eye contact. He can feel the pity in their gazes, and his stomach drops. He turns toward Chimney.

“You told them,” Buck says, and it's not a question.

“No,” Buck casts him a disbelieving look. “Well, not technically, I was on the phone with Maddie and they overheard me mention a funeral, and… it was kind of hard to avoid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Buck says, and he means it. “Everyone was going to find out anyway. Saves me the trouble. There isn’t really a good way to announce that your mom…” he trails off, choking on the last words.

Hen gets up from the couch, striding across the room and halting less than a foot away from Buck.

“Can I?” She lifts her arms up, clearly gesturing for a hug, and Buck can’t resist. He falls into her arms, folding himself down far enough to tuck his face against her shoulder. Her hand is rubbing soothing circles across his back, and he can feel his composure crumbling, a faint sob echoing from his throat.

He finally lets his arms drop, and takes a small step backwards. And, almost instantly, Bobby is pulling him into a gripping hug. Buck collapses into him, letting the other man shoulder his weight. He can feel his throat burning, and he knows that he’s seconds away from openly sobbing at work. He can’t do this. Not right now. He pulls back before he can break down completely, wiping harshly under his eyes. One minute into shift and he’s already on the verge of a breakdown.

“Hey,” Bobby claps a hand onto Buck’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Let us know if we can do anything to help, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Buck replies, voice quiet. “Thank you.” He’s blinking rapidly now, trying to stop the flow of tears. “Could I just help with breakfast?”

“You can always help with breakfast,” Bobby agrees easily. He turns toward the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs. “Here, you can get started on these.” Buck nods and gets to work, letting the familiarity of the task soothe him.

“Did you manage to get any sleep last night?” Chim asks from across the room, the question clearly directed at Buck.

He shrugs. “A little, more than I expected,” he moves to pull a bowl from the cabinet. “I left your place pretty late already, and then I had completely forgotten about Eddie-” At that statement, the room bursts into noise again, multiple voices chiming in at once:

“That’s rare.”

“First time I’ve heard that from you.”

“Didn’t know you were capable of that.”

“Yeah, alright,” he huffs. The teasing is familiar, comforting in an odd way. “I was a bit distracted last night. Forgot I had made plans to meet Eddie. I think I freaked him out slightly when I didn’t show up.” He knows that’s an understatement, but he doesn’t want anyone teasing Eddie when he gets here, not about this. And, that moment in his kitchen had felt private, something just for them. “He was waiting in my apartment when I finally got back, and so-”

“Wait,” Hen interrupts him.

“Waiting in your apartment?” Chimney asks.

“Yeah?”

“How did he get in?” Chimney and Hen are both leaning forward in their seats, waiting for his answer.

“What do you mean ‘how did he get in?’ He used his key. How else would he have got in?”

“Huh,” Chim responds, and he exchanges a glance with Hen, raising his eyebrows.

“What? That’s normal. Lots of people have keys to their friends' places. I have a key to his place too. I’m pretty sure you both have keys to each others’ houses.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Hen concedes. “Though, it is usually more for emergencies… not just… letting ourselves in whenever.”

“I think last night counts as an emergency,” he responds, cracking an egg into the bowl, and moving to grab another.

“Okay,” Hen nods. “How often do you usually use your key?”

“The normal amount of times.” Which is technically true, if the normal amount meant multiple times per week.

“What’s the normal amount?”

Buck sighs. “Did you guys manage to get any sleep?” He asks, successfully and subtly changing the topic.

Chimney rolls his eyes, but acquiesces instantly. “As much as we could. Maddie was pretty tired after everything. I still feel like I could sleep for another 24 hours though,” he pauses, unlocking his phone and typing something. “Maddie is probably going to call you soon. Your dad called again this morning, he wants help with the funeral planning.”

Buck can feel bile rising in his throat. He doesn’t know the first thing about planning a funeral. Though, it can’t be that hard to figure out. He can research, find a way to help his grieving dad, take some of the weight off of Maddie. He normally jumps at the chance to learn anything new, but he’s already dreading this. Planning a funeral doesn’t really allow any room to avoid the topic at hand. He knows every second of research will come with the constant reminder that the funeral he’s planning is for his dead mom. He sucks in a breath, tries to calm the nausea building in his stomach.

“Okay, I can do that.” He glances around the kitchen before turning to Bobby. “Do we have a clean whisk?”

“Check the dishwasher.”

“I’ll text her in a minute,” Buck tells Chimney. “I should be able to call after breakfast, or when I’m done cooking these,” he says, grabbing a whisk and walking toward the stove.

Chimney nods, unlocking his phone again, and the loft is filled with a brief silence. Bobby is standing next to Buck at the stove, frying a pan of bacon. The normalcy of the moment soothes something in him, reminds him that the world is still turning, even if he feels like his chest is about to cave in. He’s just pouring the egg mixture into a pan, when Hen sidles up next to him.

“Hey,” her voice is achingly gentle, and Buck recognizes it as the tone she usually uses to calm patients. And, maybe years ago, that would have annoyed Buck, made him feel coddled. But now… he finds that being coddled isn’t always a bad thing. He allows himself the comfort. “I still have some of the info saved from my father’s funeral, if you think that would help, it’s mostly just informational websites, but,” she shrugs. “It’s a good place to start.”

Buck is trying to formulate a coherent response, because although he wants to move on from the topic of funerals as soon as possible, he knows that Hen is trying to help, in whatever way she can. But, when he turns to look at her, his gaze catches on the stairway instead. Eddie is standing at the top of the stairs, panting slightly like he’s trying to catch his breath. His eyes dart around the room till they land on Buck.

He looks frantic, his clothes are ruffled and only one of his shoes is tied. He looks like he rolled out of bed and immediately sprinted to the station. Buck is about to ask Eddie if he’s okay, when he starts striding across the room at an almost concerning pace, only stopping when he’s right in front of Buck.

“You left,” he accuses. “And you weren't answering your phone, again.” Hen and Chim exchange a look, mouthing something to each other that remains completely indecipherable to Buck.

He thought he had left a note on the counter before he left this morning, but clearly he forgot, his mind too scrambled. He pats his pockets, searching for his phone, but it’s not on him. Something else he forgot. Shit.

“Shit,” he turns off the burner, moving the eggs to the side.

“Wait,” Eddie turns to Hen, his brain finally catching up, mentally rewinding the conversation he walked in on. “What did you just-” he stops and turns toward Buck again.

“Eddie…” And then Eddie looks at him, really looks at him. And Buck can’t imagine he’s hiding his feelings very well right now, he’s sure his pain is glaringly obvious in his red-rimmed eyes, the slump of his shoulders. Fuck.

Eddie starts to sway forward, but then he pauses, eyes darting around the room. He looks back at Buck and nods, as if he’s just made a decision. And then, he latches onto Buck’s arm and starts walking back across the room.

“You guys can start breakfast,” Buck says, helpless to do anything but follow Eddie toward the stairs. “I’m gonna go look for my phone.”

Neither of them speak as they walk across the station. Buck doesn’t know what to say, he knows he has to tell Eddie what happened. He wants to tell Eddie what happened, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat. He still hasn’t said them out loud, he hasn't actually had to tell anyone what happened yet- Maddie obviously already knew, and Chimney told the rest of the 118. He doesn’t know how to do this. It’s just three words, it shouldn’t be this hard. My mom died. My mom is dead.

They finally reach the gym, and Buck lets out a relieved breath, at least now he has something to do. The space is still empty, and Buck weaves between the equipment, gaze scanning the room as he looks for his phone. It doesn’t take long to spot it, on the floor underneath one of the benches, and Buck bends down to reach it.

“Got it,” he says, shaking it for emphasis as he turns to look at Eddie again. “I’ll turn the volume on and everything.” He tries to smile, but judging by the look on Eddie’s face, his attempt was not successful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out, I should’ve… well, I guess my mind has been a bit more scrambled than I thought,” he says, which is probably an understatement.

“Buck-”

“Eddie, I'm sorry, I was going to tell you, it’s not exactly something I can keep to myself anyways, right? Clearly,” he huffs. “But-”

“No, I’m not- I’m not mad at you, Buck. That's not why I- I just wanted to check on you, somewhere where we aren’t being watched by every single person on shift… I thought it might be a little less overwhelming.” Buck nods, of course Eddie was being thoughtful, somehow that just makes him want to cry more. Eddie pauses, wringing his hands together. “Was it… who passed- your mom or your dad or?”

Buck clears his throat, averting his eyes to the far corner of the room. There’s no way to avoid the topic now, no more distractions to throw at himself.

“My mother,” his voice cracks and he winces. “Heart attack. I guess it was her third one, neither of them had mentioned anything before but, then again we’d have to talk for them to tell me things,” he lets out a bitter, wet laugh. “I guess it isn’t that surprising. I mean, they kept my own brother a secret from me for over twenty years so…” he pauses, taking a deep breath.

“I was going to tell you last night, but I really didn’t want to think about it.” And, truthfully, his brain had been a bit scrambled after Eddie had been so close, hands pressed to his cheeks, looking at him like he was something precious… but he decided to keep that part to himself. “Which is, yeah, probably bad, but I wasn’t ready, I still don’t feel ready. And, then you told me about Chris and it’s the longest I’d seen you smiling, like fully smiling, since he left. And, I was being selfish, I wanted you to keep smiling. I missed seeing you like that.”

Buck finally looks at Eddie again, and he doesn’t know what to make of his expression; he looks like he’s cycling through a hundred different emotions. Eddie is quiet, processing everything, and Buck hesitates for a second before continuing.

“And, I was happy too, at least for a minute, I know we haven’t talked about it much, and maybe I didn’t feel like it was my place… to talk about how much I missed him when you…”

“You’re allowed to miss your- you’re allowed to miss Chris. It is your place, of course it’s your place,” Eddie is looking at him intently, like he wants to make sure Buck is hearing what he’s saying. He clears his throat, glancing around the gym before stepping closer to Buck and placing his hand on his shoulder. “I know you don’t want to talk about it right now, but when you do…”

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “You’ll be the first to know.”

-------------------------------

Bobby is hesitant to let Buck stay at first, he doesn’t want him to be too distracted, to get himself or someone else hurt. But, despite Buck’s racing mind, he’s able to focus on calls, working side by side with his team like any other day. So, Bobby agreed to let him stay on, as long as Buck agreed that Bobby could pull him at any point.

Of course, the one day where Buck actually wants back to back calls is the calmest shift they’ve had in months. They do eventually have a few calls: a minor car accident, a kitchen fire that was already put out by the time they got there, and an old woman with a broken foot. Obviously, Buck didn’t genuinely want more calls. You can’t hope for more fires or injuries just because you’re bored sitting around at work. Or, in Buck’s case, because you’re actively trying to avoid your own thoughts. So, it’s not like he’s praying for a pile up on the freeway, but, well, he thinks he might crawl out of his skin if he has to sit here for another minute.

And, on any other day, he wouldn’t mind a q-word shift. He could always find something to do around the station: play Watch Dogs with Hen or pester Chimney or get Bobby to teach him a new recipe. But, none of that was enough to distract him today. And, even if his brain hadn’t already been preoccupied with constant thoughts of his mother, he was continuously reminded by everyone around him. He couldn’t walk into a room without receiving condolences, even people he barely talked to were looking at him with pity. And, as kind as it was, as much as he liked his coworkers any other day, he was going to lose his mind if he had to hear one more person tell him they were “sorry for his loss”.

Eddie was his safe haven the entire shift. He was by his side more often than not, forcibly redirecting conversations when people refused to take Buck’s silence as the hint that it was.

Buck knew he was being avoidant, he did go to therapy after all, he can recognize when he’s actively running away from his feelings, that doesn’t mean he’s going to instantly stop. He’s afraid to let himself think about his mother, afraid that he’ll fall apart, that the burn in his throat would evolve into full on sobbing. He knows that crying is good for you, he had even done a deep dive on the topic last year when some boy in Chris’ class told him that crying made you weak. So, he has nothing against crying. However, he wouldn’t be able to work if he was actively sobbing, and he needs to be here, he needs to be with his family. So, he continues his unsuccessful attempts at distracting himself.

Work drags on at a remarkably slow pace. For the last six hours of their shift, they don’t get a single call. Buck’s brain is far too wired to sleep, and Eddie had forcibly dragged him away from the gym a couple hours into his second workout of the day. So, he resorts to stress baking. He’s barely in the kitchen for a few minutes, before the rest of his team finds him and starts hovering. He doesn’t know whether it’s comforting or suffocating, but he doesn’t want to be alone either. And, as annoying as it is sometimes, it’s also nice, to have so many people who care about him. It’s a stark reminder of how different his life is now from when he started at the 118.

He’s halfway through making a batch of blueberry muffins when Bobby comes out from his office and silently joins him in the kitchen. Buck is usually annoyed when he tries to cook with other people, but Bobby has always been the exception. By the time their shift finally ends, they have managed to make 2 batches of muffins, a batch of peanut butter cookies and a pan of brownies.

Despite how adamant Buck had been on coming to work, part of him is relieved at the thought of going home. He doesn’t even bother changing out of his uniform before he starts for the parking lot. Eddie is by his side, like he’s been the entire shift.

“Are you following me home? Or should I head to the loft?” Eddie asks, bumping their shoulders together as they walk toward their cars.

“Wait,” Buck stops, turning to face Eddie. “I, uh, have a therapy appointment actually. She got me in last minute so…”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good,” Eddie says, flashing Buck a reassuring smile.

“I’ll see you in a couple hours? I can head your way after my appointment.”

“Okay, yeah. Or I-”

“Eddie, I'll come to you.” Buck had always liked Eddie’s place better than his own anyways. He felt more at home there than he had ever felt in his apartment. “Besides, we have to cook the chicken in your fridge before it goes bad.” His own fridge was barely stocked anymore, he wasn’t there often enough to justify buying anything. He spent most of his time at Eddie’s house, sometimes even going a week before he actually spent the night in his own bed. He kept waiting for his friend to kick him out, but it never happened.

Eddie nods at him, and turns to unlock his truck. “Okay,” he says again. “I’ll see you soon.” And, despite the clear goodbye, Eddie hesitates, standing with his hand on the open door of his truck as he stares at Buck, gaze sweeping over him like he doesn’t want to let him out of his sight.

“See you soon,” Buck confirms. Eddie stares at him for another second, before he finally nods and climbs into his truck.

-------------------------------

“People kept checking in on me, asking how I was doing… but I had no clue what to say, I have no clue what I’m feeling. And… I’m still so upset with her. That’s one of the only things I do know, and that makes me feel horrible, it feels wrong… to be mad at a dead woman.”

“Buck,” Dr. Copeland is leaning forward in her seat, getting closer to the screen like it will help her get her point across. “There's no wrong way to grieve. As long as you feel and process your emotions. Whatever you’re feeling isn’t wrong, that’s not how this works.”

Buck nods, he knows what she’s saying is true, but he still can’t get past the guilt. Logic has no place in his mind right now. “It’s just…I know she wasn’t entirely bad, no matter how much she hurt me, hurt Maddie, I know there were parts of her that were good, that were loving… and, I want to focus on the good memories, that feels like the right thing to do.”

“Is there a memory that stands out to you? A good one?”

Buck leans back against the couch, he usually hated thinking about his childhood, most of his memories were painful and there were so many gaps, chunks of time that were blurry, nothing more than hazy images in his mind. It’s hard to pick something out, even most of his good memories are tied to something bad. He’s unsure if his mother taking care of him when he was injured counts as something good, he knows he shouldn’t have had to be hurt to get her attention. He shouldn’t have had to be in pain almost every time he received love from his parents.

There aren’t too many good memories of his mom to choose from, most of his joy growing up was due to Maddie. But…

“There is one that stands out I guess,” Dr. Copeland gives him an encouraging nod and he continues. “We didn’t usually do much for my birthday, I think it reminded them of Daniel… that I was getting older and he couldn’t anymore. But, there was one birthday… I don’t remember what year, I was still pretty young, but I remember they spent the whole day with me. We went to this amusement park a couple of hours from our house, and Maddie and I spent hours trying to get on every ride.

“My mom ate an entire thing of cotton candy by herself, she kept yanking it away from my father every time he tried to eat any. She usually barely ate any sugar, but I guess cotton candy was her exception,” Buck laughs. “I had forgotten that part. Her entire mouth was dyed blue. I wasn’t used to seeing her that happy, it was nice. And, yeah,” his voice is strained, wavering. “That was a good day.”

“It sounds like a good day,” Dr. Copeland affirms, her voice even gentler than usual. “I’m glad you got to have that,” she pauses, and Buck sniffs lightly, trying to stay in the moment, to keep himself from falling back into memories of his mother. “I think trying to find good memories of your mom is important,” she pauses again, looking at Buck to make sure he’s listening to her. “But, you also can’t remember only the good, and discard everything else. Your mom hurt you, and that doesn’t stop being true just because she died.”

Buck flinches, the words feel like a slap in the face. He knows his mom is dead, he’s spent the last forty minutes forcing himself to talk about it, but hearing the words out loud… he wonders if he’ll ever get used to it or if it will feel like an open wound for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t know how to respond. He knows Dr. Copeland is right, but he doesn’t know what to do with that. Because, to think about how he feels about his mother’s death, he has to think about how he feels about his mother. And, well, he still isn’t completely sure what he does think of her. He thought he would have years to unpack their relationship. But now, he has no choice but to deal with it.

“I had all these things I wanted to say to her, all of these horrible things she made me feel, and I don’t know what to do with that now. She lasted a week last time I asked them to do therapy with me, but… I was gonna try again…I kept telling myself I was gonna ask her to try again, but I never did. I think part of me didn’t want to. I was sick of giving her chances just for her to make me feel…” Buck sighs, leaving the statement unfinished. “It’s probably a stupid thing to fixate on now anyway, because I'll never know what would have happened… she probably would've said no, but what if she didn’t say no, what if things could have…” he trails off, he can’t even bring himself to say that things might have gotten better, because if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t think they would have, not by much.

Dr. Copeland is silent for a minute, and Buck thinks maybe he finally shocked her into speechlessness. He’s surprised it took as long as it did.

“It’s not stupid, though I’m sure at least part of you knows that. It’s grief, you’re mourning and part of that is going to be acknowledging things that will never happen now, things you will never get to do with your mom. It might look a bit different than you’re used to, but it is still grief.
You can’t fixate on it forever, the ‘what ifs’, but it’s natural to be sad about these things.”

Buck wants to laugh at that, he thinks most people are probably sad their parents won’t be there for their weddings or promotions or birthdays, and he’s upset that he didn’t tell his mom how much she hurt him, didn’t get to ask her to go to more therapy sessions with him. It’s kind of funny, in a horrible way. He doesn’t know what to say, and he thinks it probably isn’t the best time to burst into laughter.

“You’ve said multiple times this session that you think you didn’t try hard enough to make your relationship work, but relationships are two way streets. You were her kid, it wasn't your responsibility to put all of the work in.”

Again, Buck knows that makes logical sense, but it feels like there’s a block in his brain, like he can hear what she’s saying, but his mind refuses to process it. He doesn’t know what to say, that seems to be a running theme today. The silence stretches on, and Buck takes a slow, shaky breath.

“Can I ask what’s going through your head right now?”

He knows he doesn’t have to answer, that he could say no and she would move on. But, he scheduled this session for a reason, he wants to talk about it. Or, he thinks he should talk about it. He just doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know what I’m thinking… I don’t know how I feel, not completely, every time I let myself think about it, it feels like my brain is overheating, like I can’t breathe.”

“Do you remember the exercise I gave you last month? For when you’re feeling overwhelmed?” Buck nods. “I think that could be a good tool to use while you’re processing everything.” She turns to grab her notepad, quickly jotting something down. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk about before the end of our session?”

Buck shakes his head. He’s sure there’s more to say, a lifetime of memories, a lifetime of grief. But, he’s exhausted, he spent fifty minutes talking about his mother and it feels like he ran a marathon.

“If you need another session before you go to see your dad, let me know. Otherwise, I still have you down for next week.”

Bucks nods again, and says goodbye to Dr. Copeland before ending the call. He collapses into his couch, trying to remember the exercise she had suggested to him a few sessions ago. He’s supposed to slow his breathing, and try to identify each of his emotions and why he’s feeling them. It’s never been this hard before. It seems like every thought, every feeling in him is a swirling, intertwined mess.

He knows he’s frustrated, that one’s easy, he’s clenching his teeth like he’s trying his hardest to shatter them. Part of him is sad, probably devastated, though both of those words feel too simple. His pain is being caused by a dozen different things, and he doesn’t know what to do with any of them. And, mixed with this grief, there is anger, so much anger- anger at his mom for all the hurt she caused him, anger at his mom for dying, anger at his dad for calling him so late, anger at himself for feeling angry in the first place, anger at himself for not being able to fix this. And then, there’s something else, something entirely unnamable.

Buck was never close with his mom, not in the way he always craved. He used to watch other kids with their parents, and wonder what he did wrong, why his mom and dad never seemed to act the way other parents did, why they never looked at him the way he saw other parents looking at their kids. Of course, he eventually got the answer, figured out why his parents looked through him instead of at him. But, even with everything finally out in the open, his mother still felt so impossibly distant. So, he wasn’t close with his mom, not as a kid, and definitely not as an adult. And now, he’ll never get the chance to be close to her. And yeah, maybe they never would have been close, maybe his mom would have never put any effort in, never made any changes, never loved him the way he always wanted her to.

But, while she was alive, there was a hope there, a possibility that one day she would care about him the way he always wanted. He doesn’t have that hope anymore. He can’t pretend that she’ll be better one day, he’s eternally stuck with the mom he got. He’s stuck here, and she’s gone, and he’s left mourning the relationship they could have had, more than the one they actually did. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

It is so much harder to be mad at someone when they’re dead, that a part of him resents it: that she died and softened his anger, made it into something almost too confusing to continue deconstructing. And now, his anger is tinged with a looming guilt, and that makes him angry too.

He doesn’t know what to do with all of this anger, all of this pain. He wants to punch something. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He doesn’t do any of that. He sits on his couch and stares at the wall.

Chapter Text

Buck, predictably, barely got any sleep last night. His mind was far too busy, and it didn’t take long before he gave up on attempting sleep and started researching funeral planning instead- an admittedly horrible idea that kept him up far longer than intended. He spent most of the night propped up in the corner of the bed with his phone’s brightness turned all the way down, trying to avoid waking up Eddie, who had a tendency to jolt out of sleep if Buck so much as breathed too deeply.

It didn’t take long for Buck to find websites and blog posts centering around funeral planning. His dad, thankfully, had already published the obituary. However, there was still a lot to do. It took far less time than he thought it would to understand the basics, and the information Hen had sent him streamlined the process. By the time he had finished organizing all of the funeral prep information into a checklist, he somehow felt even less tired than when he had started. But, there was only so much you could achieve in the middle of the night; he definitely couldn’t start contacting funeral homes at 1 am.

So, still restless, Buck had started googling eulogies. He knew his dad would expect him to speak at the funeral. He felt like he should speak at the funeral, but he didn’t have any clue where to start. He spent hours reading eulogies he had found posted online. He thought it would give him an idea of what to write, some form of inspiration at the very least, but it just made everything feel worse. He read page after page of people mourning their late parents, talking about how much they had loved their mom or dad, and what a positive impact their parents had had on their lives.

The way people spoke about their mothers was beautiful and devastating and completely and totally unhelpful. It was yet another stark reminder that his relationship with his mom was nowhere close to what he had always wanted it to be. He kept reading through eulogies, waiting for something to resonate with him, but nothing did. It shouldn’t be this hard to write a 3 minute speech about a woman he had known his entire life. And yet, by the time he had finally fallen asleep, exhausted from intermittent crying and hours staring at his phone, he was no closer to figuring out the eulogy. He hadn’t even managed to write a single sentence.

When Buck had woken up a couple of hours later, he felt even worse than when he had fallen asleep. His body hurt, even more so than usual, and he had a blinding headache. He went through his morning routine mechanically, barely processing the world around him. He was slow and unsteady, like there were weights tied to each of his limbs, pulling him down.

There was no way it wasn’t noticeable, Eddie kept shooting him concerned glances, he had even taken Buck’s car keys so he could drive them to work. He couldn’t remember the last time Eddie had driven him anywhere, it was always the other way around.

The drive to work had been noticeably silent. It felt weird, almost unnatural. Buck was a talker by nature, especially around Eddie. There usually came a point in conversations where people would start to tune him out, their eyes darting around the room or glazing over. Buck didn’t entirely blame them, he knew that once he got going on a topic it could be hard to stop him. But, Eddie had always listened to him with a smile on his face, like he genuinely thought what Buck had to say was important, like he truly wanted a play by play recount of Buck’s latest Wikipedia binge.

But, today, Buck hadn’t been able to get his brain to cooperate enough to get more than a few words out. His mind was too exhausted to form proper thoughts, let alone make conversation. He was barely aware of anything on the ride to work. He kept zoning out and losing track of time. He hadn’t even realized they had made it to the station until he heard Eddie calling his name, and by the look on his face- brow pinched in concern, eyes wide and imploring- it wasn’t the first time he had tried to get Buck’s attention.

Buck had tried his best to smile convincingly, but Eddie had always been hard to fool. Because, for better or worse, he had always been able to read Buck like a book. So, Buck’s pathetic attempt at a smile didn’t fool Eddie, if anything he somehow looked even more concerned.

Buck had kept trying to pull himself together, focusing the small amount of energy he did have on looking as alert as possible when he walked into the station. But, it obviously wasn’t very convincing, because Bobby had taken one look at him and banished him to the bunk room, threatening to send him home if he didn’t get at least 2 hours of sleep. And, by some miracle (complete and total exhaustion), Buck had passed out almost instantly.

He woke up 3 hours later, apparently having been appointed as man behind when he managed to sleep through the alarm twice. And, though he still felt undeniably off, he was at least awake enough to function now.

Buck makes his way upstairs and sets about reheating the plate of breakfast that Bobby had put aside for him. The station is calm, only one or two other people milling around, and he figures his team is still out on a call. He leans against the counter, finishing his food in a record amount of time, barely breathing between bites.

He hates when the station is empty, it feels weird, lifeless. And, more than that, he never likes knowing that his team is on a call without him, that anything could happen to them, and he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t be there to help. It doesn’t take long before he resorts to pacing back and forth, anxiously trying to find something to occupy his mind until his team gets back. There was usually something to do: trucks to clean or trash to take out or dishes to wash. But, somehow on the day Buck actually wanted to do chores, the station was near spotless.

His mind is far too anxious to fall back asleep. And so, with no one around to distract him and nothing else to do, Buck settles on the couch and pulls his phone out. He spends a few minutes mindlessly scrolling before he gives in and starts researching eulogies again.

-------------------------------

Buck has been draining his phone battery for nearly an hour before he finally hears the familiar sound of the engine pulling back into the station. And, despite how long he had spent reading through eulogies, he still isn’t any closer to figuring out what he wants to say. Buck sighs, frustrated with himself, he didn’t like not being able to solve something, even if the something in question was his mother’s eulogy.

He’s still staring at a blank google doc on his phone when Hen walks up the stairs and sits down across from him, practically falling into the chair, clearly exhausted from their last call. She’s typing something out on her phone, a fond smile on her face that lets Buck know she’s talking to Karen. Buck hesitates for a second, waiting until she’s done typing before he leans forward.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hen puts her phone down and turns to face him. “You don't have to answer,” he adds quickly.

“Knowing you… I’m gonna go with a maybe,” Hen teases.

“I’ve just,” he sighs. “I’ve been trying to write something for my mother’s funeral.” He hears Hen suck in a breath beside him. “How did… I don’t know what to say. I want to say something nice, something fit for a funeral, but… but I've been thinking about it for hours and I haven’t managed to write a single sentence. Even when I can think of something to say, it doesn’t feel good enough,” he pauses for a second, sucking in a breath. “Did you speak… at your dad’s funeral?”

Hen is silent for a minute, head tilted back like she’s considering her answer. She pauses for long enough that Buck thinks maybe he shouldn't have brought it up. A few years ago he probably wouldn’t have even considered asking; when he had first met Hen, she almost never mentioned her dad. And, when she did, it was always a brief, clipped comment, like she didn’t want to think about him any longer than necessary. But, she had been talking about her dad more often recently: bringing him up of her own accord, offhandedly mentioning the few memories she did have with him.

Though, there’s a difference between bringing your father up of your own free will and having someone ask you to talk about him with no warning. Maybe it was selfish to ask her about her father’s death; he doesn’t want to force her to dredge up old, painful memories just for his benefit. He’s about to apologize, to retract the question, when Hen finally starts speaking.

“I wasn’t planning to at first… by the time my dad died, I hadn’t had a relationship with him for decades, he was a stranger to me. The idea of it felt weird- giving a eulogy for someone I barely knew,” her voice is slow and stretched out, an undercurrent of pain running through it.

It’s not entirely shocking that Hen had considered not giving a eulogy. Because, even though she had forgiven her dad, he had hurt her. Buck had seen her pain every time she talked about her father. And though their situations were vastly different, he still thought that- more than anyone- Hen could understand how he was feeling right now: to mourn someone who hurt you, to love (and be loved by) someone who had caused you so much pain.

“But you did? Speak at his funeral?”

“I did,” Hen confirms. “There was a point where I wasn’t gonna speak at all. It was actually something that Chim said that ended up convincing me to give a eulogy. He told me that funerals are for the living, that it was less about my dad and more about helping me process my own grief. I think he was right about that…” Hen trails off, and Buck shuffles closer to her, reaching out in an attempt at comfort.

“It wasn’t like my grief was gone after the funeral or anything, but… I do think it was helpful. I had spent so much of my life actively trying to not think about my father, trying to avoid the pain associated with him. But then, I saw him again and suddenly I wasn’t able to avoid thinking about him anymore. It was overwhelming, it felt like I was experiencing decades of pain all at once.”

Buck knows what it's like to push your pain further and further into yourself in an attempt at avoidance, he knows what it’s like to hope that if you don't look at your pain maybe it won’t be there any longer. It’s nice to talk to somebody who understands. Though, at the same time, he wishes that this particular experience was something that they didn’t have in common.

“Planning the funeral, figuring out a eulogy, it gave me an outlet- somewhere to release my pain. It helped the grief feel just slightly less all encompassing,” Hen continues, and Buck nods. That makes sense, it aligns with everything he’s learned about processing trauma.

“I do want to write something,” he says, finally finding his voice again. “Or, at least, I think I should write something… it's more that… I guess I have absolutely no clue what to write. I’ve probably read dozens of eulogies at this point, but…” he trails off, frustrated and unable to find the proper words. Because, in every eulogy he had read, people had written about their parents with such uncomplicated love, and Buck still couldn’t find a way to think about his mother without feeling angry, let down, unwanted.

“Buck,” Hen says, pulling his attention back to the conversation and away from the inevitable thought spiral he had been heading toward. He meets her eyes and nods, and she gives him a faint, reassuring smile before continuing. “I can't tell you what to write, no one can, but… I do think you're focusing more on what you think other people want you to write, than what you need to say.”

Buck sighs. She’s right. Of course she’s right. Even though a part of him wishes she wasn't. He had spent so much of his childhood trying to please everyone around him, and sometimes that people pleasing instinct creeps back into him. Sometimes trying to figure out what other people want from him seems easier than the alternative: trying to figure out what he wants.

“Hey,” Hen places her hand over his, squeezing lightly. “You'll figure something out, you still have some time.”

Buck gives her a weak smile, “Yeah, I-” he’s cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He glances down at the screen, an old photo of Maddie and Jee flashing across the display. “I have to take this,” Hen nods and pulls her hand back as Buck stands. “I’m just gonna,” he gestures vaguely toward the roof, and turns to walk to the door.

He doesn’t make it far before he turns around again, crossing the room quickly and pulling Hen into a hug.

“Thank you,” his voice is rough, worn thin from days of choking back tears, and Hen is smiling at him as he pulls back.

-------------------------------

“I talked to Bobby this morning, he gave me the time off, so now we just have to-”

“One second,” Maddie interrupts, and Buck finds himself nodding despite the fact that she can't see him.

“I have to help Josh with something really quick. Can you still come by after work?”

“Yeah, I can grab us dinner on the way over,” he says, already mentally cycling through a list of restaurants in his mind. He’s still waiting for Maddie to respond when the door to the roof opens, Eddie’s head darting out to scan the rooftop, before he opens the door fully and starts walking toward Buck. It’s not surprising that Eddie’s here, he tends to find Buck easily.

“Okay,” Maddie says, and he can hear Josh's muffled voice in the background. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Buck responds, his gaze locked on Eddie as he makes his way across the roof. “See you soon.” He ends the call and pockets his phone, turning to lean his back against the railing as Eddie sidles up next to him.

“Maddie?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to look at flights later today.” Buck had never really liked flying all that much, he was long used to driving everywhere. He had spent so much of his early 20s in his car, and though most of that time was spent alone, desperately searching for a home, for a family, he still found long car rides nostalgic, comforting in a way he couldn’t fully explain. However, he could count the number of times he had been on a plane with a single hand, and two of those times were during work.

“Is it bad I'm dreading going back?” Buck asks. “Maddie will be there, and that always makes things better but… she’ll have Chim and they have Jee to take care of and,” he sighs, running his hands through his already disheveled hair. “I don't want to be something else she has to worry about. I can make it through a few days with my dad, I've done it before,” Buck knows his tone is unconvincing, despite his best efforts.

Spending time with his dad should really be the least of his worries right now, but the idea of it still leaves him on edge. Even when they lived together, his father had felt distant, unreachable. And now, over a decade later, that distance has only grown. At best their interactions are stilted and uncomfortable, at worst they make him feel like a little kid again: angry, powerless, alone. At worst… they end in a screaming match. And, as much as Buck has plenty to yell at his dad about, he doesn't want it to come to that, not before his mother's funeral, not while they're all still trying to figure out how to live with their newfound grief.

He’s more nervous than ever, because now more than ever he wants the visit to go well. He doesn’t want to make everyone’s trip more uncomfortable just because he couldn't manage to have a single peaceful dinner with his father.

“Okay, well,” Eddie pauses, something slightly hesitant. “What if I went with you? Would that help?”

“What? Eddie, you don’t have to do that. I was just complaining, I’ll manage. Plus, I doubt you could get the time off.”

“Well…”

“What?”

“I already got the time off,” Eddie admits, his tone slightly sheepish.

“You-”

“Listen, I want to go with you, if you want me there-”

“Of course I want you you there, but-”

“Chris won’t be back yet, and you’re gonna be gone for a week. You know whatever partner Bobby sticks me with won’t be as good as you.”

“Brunson is great,” Buck argues weakly.

“He’s great and he’s not you, so it doesn’t really matter. Besides, I’ve met your dad and no offense, but he’s not the easiest guy to be around.” Understatement of the year. “And, I make a great buffer if nothing else.”

“Okay, you’re coming I got it. I’ll shut up about it.” He didn’t particularly want to argue the point anyways. He wanted Eddie there. Going to Hershey without him would mean a whole week without him. He hadn’t gone that long without seeing Eddie since the lawsuit, and he had absolutely no desire to ever go that long without seeing him again.

“Good.”

“But-”

“Buck,” Eddie groans in exasperation.

“How did Cap even approve your time off?”

“Told him I had a family emergency, he couldn’t really say no. Besides, you know he wouldn’t…” Buck is trying to focus on the conversation, to put together a semi-coherent response, but his brain is stuck in a loop: Family. Family. Family. He told Bobby he had a family emergency.

“Oh,” Buck smiles, his heart beating pathetically fast. “But, he already gave me and Chim the week off,” his voice is lilted, the words halfway between a statement and a question. Having three people gone from a single shift doesn’t really sound feasible.

“He made some calls. They’ve got Ashe and Brunson coming in from station 205, and Ravi is switching shifts for the week. Honestly, I think Ravi’s excited to be back on A shift for a bit. Last time I saw him he was complaining about how much he missed Bobby’s cooking.”

Buck huffs a laugh. He’s pretty sure Ravi is considering permanently switching shifts solely for the food.

“That seems like a lot of effort just for-”

“Yeah, it probably was. But, Buck, it’s you. Sometimes I think you don't know how much you mean to him. Moving a few schedules around is nothing.” Buck doesn’t know what to say to that, left speechless for the second time in the span of a minute.

“Right, uhh…” he trails off, sorting through the conversation in his mind, because something still isn’t adding up. “I hadn’t even told you what day we were leaving yet, how did you know what days to request off?”

“Maddie told me,” he shrugs, nonchalant.

“Since when do you talk to Maddie?”

“We text sometimes.”

“You… text sometimes?” Eddie nods, a small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What do you text about?”

“We watch some of the same shows.”

“What shows?”

“Buck,” he sighs, eyes twinkling like they always do when he pretends to be annoyed. “We’re getting off track.”

“C’mon, Eddie,” Buck is smirking now, “What shows?”

“You never let anything drop, do you?”

“Nope.”

“I’m only giving in, because this is somehow the happiest I’ve seen you all day.” I’m always happiest when I’m with you, Buck thinks, and immediately decides to keep that particular line of thought to himself. He’s been doing that a lot recently: swallowing down half of the things he wants to say. So, instead of baring his heart, Buck smiles and nods, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms as he waits for Eddie to continue.

“Well, recently, we’ve been watching through some of the early seasons of Big Brother.”

“I specifically remember you telling me you didn’t watch that.”

“Buck, last time we tried to watch a reality show together, you got impatient and looked up spoilers for the new episodes while we were on shift… you ended up spoiling almost half the season.”

“C’mon, that’s not…” Buck trails off, quickly realizing he can’t actually refute anything Eddie said.

“Maddie is better at-”

“Eddie, I swear to god if you tell me Maddie is better at watching reality TV than I am.”

“Well,” Eddie shrugs, unrepentant. “She is.” He’s smiling brightly, like teasing Buck is the highlight of his day.

“Maddie is better at watching TV than me,” Buck repeats, tone incredulous. Eddie nods, his smile somehow getting even wider.

“Maddie’s better at a lot of things, we just don’t say anything for the benefit of your ego.”

“Oh, like that’s ever stopped you before,” Buck laughs, turning and stepping closer to Eddie until he’s practically boxing him in against the railing. “You’re such a-” the end of his sentence is cut short by the long-familiar sound of the station’s alarm.

“Saved by the bell,” Eddie grins, pushing past him as he runs toward the door. Buck finds himself deflating almost instantly, feeling inextricably guilty for the brief moment of joy. “Hey,” Eddie is at the door now, looking at Buck over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Chapter Text

Eddie is supposed to be at the Wilson’s house right now. And, well, he is technically at their house. Or rather, he’s pacing the sidewalk in front of their house. His Uber dropped him off ten minutes ago, and he still hasn’t been able to convince himself to walk the few remaining feet to their door.

For the first time since they had started their weekly wine nights, Eddie was going to be late. His wine nights with Hen and Karen were still relatively new. It was a tradition that had formed almost entirely by accident. A few months ago, Eddie had gone over to return a video game Chris had borrowed from Denny before he left. And, having a kid free night, Karen had offered him a glass of wine, which had quickly become 4 glasses of wine. At the end of the night, Karen had invited him to come over again the next week, and Eddie didn’t hesitate for a second before accepting.

He liked Karen. She was funny and smart as hell, and it was nice to have another person to exchange parenting stories with. They had always had a passing friendship, catching up with each other at barbeques and team get-togethers, but they had never really seen much of each other outside of these group gatherings until recently. Now, outside of his team at the 118, she was probably one of the people he saw the most often. Every Friday, Eddie would make his way over to Hen and Karen’s to spend the night getting wine drunk and trading advice and old stories.

What had first started as him and Karen, quickly became him and Karen and Hen. And, every once in a while, some of Karen’s work friends would join them too. Buck had never come to wine night, as it was scheduled, completely intentionally, to coincide with Buck’s weekly dinner with Bobby and Athena (something that had started when Bobby was working on Hotshots and stuck around after he got his job back at the 118).

It’s not that he was trying to keep Buck away from their wine nights, but well… when he got wine drunk he tended to get sentimental, and when he got sentimental, he tended to talk about Buck even more than usual, borderline waxing poetic about him in a way that was probably horribly revealing. So, it was in his best interest that Buck was busy on Friday nights.

He knew Buck wasn’t at the Grant-Nash house tonight though, he had said something about wanting to spend some extra time with Jee before they left for the funeral. He had invited Eddie to go with him. But, Eddie had wanted to give them a bit of time alone, he would be with them all for the entirety of next week anyways. And, besides that, he had plans tonight. Plans that he absolutely refused to bail on, even though he was getting later by the minute.

He had never been nervous for wine night before, he couldn’t remember the last time he was nervous around Hen or Karen in general; the Wilsons were some of the best people in his life, people that he had been confident around for years. But, today, he couldn’t even bring himself to knock on their door.

Because Eddie was planning on coming out tonight. He wasn’t nervous over how they’d respond, because unless they had somehow become completely different people overnight, he knew they’d be accepting. He just… he wasn’t used to saying the words out loud yet. He was probably making the whole thing unnecessarily complicated, building it up in his head. He had only come out to one person before, two technically if he counts himself, which… he definitely doesn’t count right? So, one person, he had successfully come out to one person.

So, even though he knew they would be nice about it, even though he wanted to tell them, he still felt unprepared. But, he would probably never feel fully prepared, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. He glances at his watch, he’s still only a few minutes late. He starts toward their house again, determined.

Eddie knocks on the door a bit frantically, refusing to give himself an opportunity to turn around and retreat back home. He can hear Hen and Karen talking inside, their voices muffled but clearly happy. They pause for a second, his rapid knocking having interrupted their conversation. It doesn’t take long for their voices to start up again, getting steadily louder and clearer as they make their way across the house to answer the door. He can hear one of them turning the lock, and he sucks in a deep, steadying breath as the door swings open.

“Sorry, I know I’m late.”

“Only by a few minutes,” Karen responds, pulling him in for a hug. “Besides, I’m surprised you made it tonight.” She takes a small step back, keeping her grip on his arm and tugging lightly till he follows her into the house. “Come in, it’s getting cold.” Eddie trails after her and Hen as they make their way to the kitchen. “Hen says you’ve been spending practically every waking moment with Buck. I wouldn't have blamed you if you wanted to cancel. I know he’s going through a lot right now.” Her mouth is twisted down in sympathy, and Eddie gives a slight nod.

It’s a fair enough sentiment, Buck has always been high up on his list of priorities, especially right now. And, maybe he would have rescheduled if Buck hadn’t been busy tonight, if he had needed company. Buck would do the same for him, he had done the same for him; Eddie couldn’t count the number of times the other man had dropped his plans to rush over to Eddie’s house, but, “Buck’s busy tonight.”

“Ah, right,” Hen chimes in. “Chim said they were all going to the movies with Jee or something?”

“Yeah, I think so. Buck said they had all been focusing so much on Margaret’s passing recently, and they wanted to do something nice tonight while they had some time. So, I didn’t see any reason to cancel and besides,” he reaches into the grocery bag, pulling one of the bottles out, “I brought the good stuff tonight.”

Karen’s expression lifts and Hen immediately starts pulling wine glasses from the cupboard. Eddie steps past her to grab the corkscrew from the drawer, having long memorized his way around their kitchen. He removes the cork and sets it to the side as Hen hands him a glass. They all move around each other with excess familiarity: Eddie pouring the glasses of wine, while Hen starts pulling down plates and Karen rummages through the cupboard to collect whatever snacks she can find.

For a while, the night proceeds as normal. And, if Eddie didn’t have a voice in the back of his head constantly reminding him that he promised himself he would tell them tonight, it would probably feel normal too. Karen is in the middle of telling a story about her new coworker. A story which Eddie has barely processed, even though normally he would be completely and totally invested. This is the same coworker that’s somehow currently in the middle of three separate lawsuits, so he’s nearly positive that any story about them has to be entertaining at the very least, but he still can’t bring himself to process more than half of what Karen’s saying.

He knows he’s acting off, he hasn’t been talking nearly as much as he usually does, and his attention keeps wandering. He’s sure it’s noticeable. But Karen, possibly sensing his growing anxiety, graciously doesn’t comment on it.

He’s halfway through his second glass of wine when he finally convinces himself to say something. He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He talked to Frank about this, he’s ready. He just has to wait till Karen is done with her story and figure out a good way to—

“I’m gay!” Or… he could blurt it out while she’s in the middle of a sentence. Hen, who was taking a sip of wine, proceeds to immediately choke. Karen is frozen in place, like her mind is still processing the statement.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, but realistically has probably been merely seconds, Karen straightens in her seat, blinking rapidly like she’s coming back to herself. Her head swivels toward where Hen is still lightly coughing, and she moves her hand mindlessly to rub circles across her back. When she turns back toward Eddie she’s smiling.

“Welcome to the club,” she says, voice bright and irrevocably happy. Eddie finds himself smiling back at her, the small amount of remaining tension draining out of him.

Hen finally pulls herself together again, and turns toward Karen, smiling gratefully. They exchange a look that Eddie is absolutely not going to read into.

“There’s this gay bar we’ve been wanting to take you to.” Wanting to take him to, like this was something they had discussed before tonight. A part of Eddie wants to laugh at that, at how glaringly obvious he must have been. “We haven’t even gone with Buck yet, which is-” Eddie can feel his eyes widen. “Wait,” Hen leans closer to him. “Does Buck know?” Eddie holds in a grimace and shakes his head. “Oh… we thought—”

“Who wants another glass?” Karen interrupts, aiming a slightly frazzled look at Hen. Eddie shrugs, he’s definitely not going to say no to more wine.

-------------------------------

Eddie has spent the last two hours slowly sinking into the cushions of the living room couch. He’s four glasses of wine deep at this point, and there’s a pleasant, recognizable dizziness building behind his eyes. It’s a dangerous territory to be in, because as soon as he passes from tipsy to drunk, he loses nearly all capability of keeping any of his thoughts to himself. He can’t even count how many secrets he’s managed to divulge to Hen and Karen just in the last few months alone.

The room has fallen into a brief, comfortable silence. Karen is scrolling through her phone, trying to find a photo of her childhood dog, Sunny, to show to Eddie. Eddie doesn’t remember how they got on the topic of childhood pets, but he’s not going to question it.

Hen, seemingly tired of waiting, tilts her head toward Eddie, “So, did anything spur this realization?” They had moved on from the topic of sexuality a while ago, and it takes a minute for Eddie to understand what she’s asking.

“I… yeah, I guess you could say that,” he pauses, trying to determine how much he wants to reveal.

There’s a lot of ways he could answer that question. He could talk about therapy, about how he spent months sorting through his life with a fine tooth comb, dissecting his memories and putting them back together again, trying to make sense of why he had always felt so broken. He could talk about how he had spent more time trying to be someone he wasn’t than accepting himself as he was. He could talk about how he never really felt like he deserved joy, how he had met a priest that convinced him to stop punishing himself. There’s a lot he could say, a dozen small or big things that made him finally accept he was gay. But, he’s spent an hour every week for the last few months talking about trauma and repression and self-acceptance. And, at least for tonight, that’s not what he wants to talk about.

He’s never had this before, he’s never been able to openly talk about his feelings for someone. Whenever his friends in high school had talked about girls, he had scrambled to find someone to name, tried to convince himself that he liked them more than he actually did, that his feelings for them must be romantic, because his friends had been crushing on girls for years, while Eddie had felt nothing. So, he tried to convince himself that maybe he just didn’t understand what it felt like to be interested in someone like that. He tried to convince himself that if he worked hard enough, he could get himself to like girls in the same way all of his friends seemed to.

He had talked about Shannon at one point, of course he had talked about Shannon, he had loved her, even if he knows now that the love he had for her wasn’t exactly what he had convinced himself it was. And, even then, their relationship had gotten complicated fast. It wasn’t long after they started dating that he went from trying to figure out what to buy her for Valentine’s day to trying to navigate teen pregnancy.

He had missed so many teenage rites of passage. And, as juvenile as it might be, he wanted to tell Hen and Karen, he wanted to finally experience what he had missed out on so many years ago. In the end, it is this desire, paired with his increasingly failing impulse control, that gets him to confess.

“I’m in love with someone.” Karen drops her phone, seemingly completely giving up her search for a photo of Sunny in favor of devoting her full attention to staring at Eddie, slack jawed. He isn’t sure if she’s surprised at the statement, or just surprised that he said it. Hen is still looking at him, her head tilted slightly. She doesn’t say anything at first, like she’s giving him a chance to elaborate. When she realizes he isn’t going to, she takes pity on him.

“This someone you’re in love with—you haven’t told him?” It’s phrased like a question, but judging by her tone, it seems like she already knows the answer. Eddie shakes his head and Hen sighs, the sigh of a long suffering parent that is used to not getting the answer they want. She takes a long sip of wine and leans forward, her expression softening. “Okay. Why not?”

“It’s… complicated. We’re,” he pauses for a second, trying to decide how much to reveal, “friends. We’re friends,” he repeats, sounding surer of himself. “I don’t want to make everything weird if he doesn’t feel the same way, I know we would be fine in the long run, but—” he stops, Karen is leaning forward in her seat, fixing him with a look he knows all too well. There are times when she reminds him of Adriana, times like now, when she’s looking at him like he’s being an idiot.

“There is absolutely no way he doesn’t like you back.”

“You don’t know that, besides it’s more than that, it’s—I’m not the only one I have to consider here. And, I mean, I’ve thought about saying something, of course I have. I was trying to drop hints, but—”

“Eddie, this is Buck we’re talking about—”

“I didn’t—”

“Dropping hints isn’t going to get you anywhere. If you want more, you have to tell him. He’s not gonna make any assumptions here, especially when it comes to people as important to him as you and Christopher.”

“I didn’t mention Buck,” Eddie tries to argue, even though he already knows it’s a lost cause.

“You didn’t need to,” he sighs, it’s hardly surprising that she figured him out.

“I have thought about saying something, and there are times when I think that maybe he…” Eddie shrugs, “It doesn’t matter right now.” Hen and Karen both lean forward at that, and Eddie can guess what they want to say, but he’s not done yet, “I want to talk to Chris before I say anything and even then… it’s not a good time right now.”

“It’s never gonna be a good time with our lives.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a good time. His mother’s funeral is next week. He’s overwhelmed and grieving and feeling probably a dozen different things I couldn’t even name.”

Karen nods in concession, “Okay, yeah, it’s definitely not optimal timing. But, I do think you should think about telling him. I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you… I don’t think you’re alone in this.”

“I- I’ll think about it.” Neither of them look entirely convinced, but it's the best he can give them right now, and he’s never been a very good actor.

Eddie’s phone vibrates on the couch next to him, a text from Buck lighting up the screen. He smiles involuntarily, grabbing his phone to respond. It takes him a second to notice the time, and when he does, he feels a small wave of shock roll through him.

“Shit, we went a bit later than usual tonight.” He starts gathering his stuff and pushes up from the couch, stumbling slightly.

“Thanks for having me… and for…” he gestures vaguely, unable to find words adequate enough to fully explain how much their easy acceptance meant to him.

“Anytime,” Karen responds, seeming to understand his sentiment despite his less than eloquent delivery. Eddie smiles at her, before glancing down at his phone again to open the Uber app and order a ride.

“Before you go—are you free this Sunday? Our normal sitter cancelled.”

Eddie shakes his head, wincing when the movement starts to make him dizzy, “I’m not gonna be in town on Sunday.” Besides Buck and Bobby, he hadn’t told any of the team that he would be gone for the week. He wasn’t even certain that Maddie had told Chimney, everything had been so hectic these last few days, that he wouldn’t be surprised if she had forgotten.

“You’re going with Buck aren’t you? To Hershey?” Hen asks. Eddie gives a short nod, trying to avoid moving too much again. “Good,” she steps closer to him and pulls him into a hug. “Text us when you land.”

He pulls back, nodding again, and walking over to give Karen a hug. She squeezes him tighter than usual and he smiles, leaning fully into her.

Eddie’s phone buzzes in his hand, “Looks like my ride’s here,” he says, pulling on his jacket and starting to make his way out. He's just made it to the front door, when Hen calls out his name. Eddie turns halfway around, hand poised on the door handle.

“We’re proud of you.”

-------------------------------

Eddie wakes up slowly, squinting against the sunlight falling into his room. His first conscious realization is that his head hurts, more than it normally does after a night of drinking. He had gone a bit harder than usual last night, first out of stress and then out of celebration. So, the pounding headache isn’t really a surprise.

His next realization is that he’s alone, the other side of the bed is completely cold, he frowns at that. Despite how drunk he had been the night before, it still took him longer than usual to fall asleep. He didn’t realize just how used to sleeping next to Buck he was until he was forced to sleep alone again. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep until he had rolled over to Buck’s side of the bed and buried his face in his friend’s pillow.

His third realization is less of a realization and more a series of memories. He had come out last night. It went well, of course it went well, beneath his surface level fear he knew it would; but, it's one thing to know and another thing entirely to know. And, despite his killer headache, despite the empty bed, he can feel his face stretching into a smile.

His final realization comes when he notices the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. His grin widens. Coffee means Buck is home. Eddie sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, and his gaze catches on the nightstand. There’s a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting next to his phone that he definitely didn’t put there last night.

Eddie feels his heart stutter, the way it always seems to when it comes to Buck. For so many years, Eddie was used to being the one that took care of others: he helped look after his sisters when his dad was away from home, and he’s been looking after Chris since he was a teenager himself. He has always had a tendency to take care of other people and push his own needs, his own wants, further and further down until he forgets he even had them in the first place.

And then, he met Buck. Buck, who saw Eddie struggling and didn’t hesitate for a single second before jumping in to help him. It was overwhelming sometimes, how much Buck cared for him. It had been over seven years now, and Eddie still wasn’t used to it. And sure, he spent just as much time taking care of Buck in return, but that was something he was used to, something he was comfortable with. It was different. Having that attention, that care, directed back at him—he didn’t always know what to do with that.

Every once in a while, Eddie would think he had finally gotten used to it, and then Buck would do something so simple, like leaving him water and painkillers, and Eddie would end up right back where he started. He thinks about what Karen told him last night, about telling Buck how he feels. But, today isn’t the day for it—he’s hungover and they have a funeral to prepare for. Eddie throws the pills to the back of his mouth and practically chugs the glass of water.

He shuffles down the hall to the kitchen, still blinking off sleep. Buck is standing with his back to him, working on drying a pile of dishes. And, despite Eddie having woken up to this sight countless times, it’s different than usual. It’s so… quiet. It’s strange, almost unnerving. Because, as much as Buck and Eddie could exist in comfortable silence when they were together, when Buck was alone, he needed noise. If he wasn’t listening to a podcast or music, he would be humming something under his breath, or—on the rarer occasion—quietly mumbling to himself. But, today, he’s quiet. He doesn’t even seem like he’s entirely in his body. His movements look mechanical, like he’s being guided by muscle memory alone.

Eddie’s been leaning in the doorway for over a minute, before he finally takes in the rest of the kitchen. There are baked goods covering almost the entirety of his counter space. It seems like Eddie had been tired enough to sleep through Buck’s stress baking. Buck grabs a pan off of his dish pile and turns to walk across the room, he doesn’t get far before he spots Eddie and startles, dropping the pan to the ground with a resounding clang. Eddie winces, the pounding in his head increasing.

“Fuck,” Buck shakes his head. “You walk quiet sometimes,” he pauses, eyes seemingly scanning over Eddie. “How are you feeling?”

“Killer headache,” Eddie grunts. “How did you know?”

“Your texts got slightly incoherent later in the night,” he pauses for a second, bending down to pick the pan off the floor. “I think you got frustrated with the keyboard eventually, because you started responding to every message with emojis.”

Eddie groans and pulls his phone out, navigating to his text thread with Buck and scrolling up. He had been responding like usual for a while, but it didn’t take long till his responses started to contain an increasing number of typos. This only lasted for a few messages until Eddie ended up switching to emojis completely.

Their last exchange had been Buck telling him he was crashing at Maddie’s for the night. Eddie had sent a thumbs up, followed by an entire row of hearts. Which was… definitely sappy, but also not as bad as it could have been, especially considering where his head was at last night. It was probably for the best that he hadn’t been able to properly text.

“Right,” Eddie locks his phone and goes to refill his water glass. “How did the movies go last night?” He wants to ask how Buck is, but he knows the answer. Buck’s mom died less than a week ago. And, no matter how fraught Buck’s relationship with his mother was, his mother still died, and he’s clearly been struggling. He’s barely been sleeping, and his hair is sticking up in about a hundred different places, a side effect of him pulling at it near constantly. Even his voice sounds different than it usually does—it’s heavier, slower, like he has to pull the words out of himself every time he speaks.

So, Eddie already knows how Buck is doing and—he forcibly reminds himself—Buck already knows to come to Eddie when he’s ready to talk about it. So, for now, he’ll settle for asking about the movies.

“It went okay… I think,” Buck pauses, eyes darting around the kitchen. “It’s hard, seeing Jee like that, she’s usually so happy, and it just…” he sighs. “Maddie and Chim have been talking to her about everything, I think it’s all still a bit new and confusing, but they’re doing the best they can with it.” He looks proud at that, the way he always does when he’s talking about his sister. “I think the movies helped, at least somewhat, she was smiling a bit more afterwards.”

Eddie nods, “She has a good support system, that’s the most important thing right now.” Buck gives him a small smile, and then his eyes widen and he turns to face the counter, grabbing a mug of coffee and handing it to Eddie.

“I almost forgot,” he says and turns to grab his own mug, taking a long sip and closing his eyes. Eddie follows his lead, willing the caffeine to chase away his headache.

“What are we doing today?” Eddie asks, and Buck gives a questioning hum. “We got the flight out tomorrow morning… is there anything we need to do before we leave?”

“We still have some stuff to take care of for the funeral, but nothing that we can’t handle when we get to Hershey,” Buck turns and grabs a muffin from the cooling rack. “I'm guessing you haven't packed yet?”

Eddie shrugs, “Yeah, it's not gonna take long.”

“Need help?” Buck asks, and then practically unhinges his jaw to take a bite of the muffin he’s holding. Eddie should not find that endearing.

Eddie is perfectly capable of packing a suitcase on his own, but he knows that’s not what Buck is really asking, he knows that he just doesn’t want to be alone right now. And Eddie is never going to say no to that.

“Yeah,” Eddie takes a step toward Buck, reaching around him to grab a muffin. “Come on, let’s go.” And Buck, somehow still chewing, gives him a disgusting, muffin-filled smile and follows him to his room.

Eddie moves to his closet, pulling his suitcase down. “Let me guess—you already packed? Bet you made a checklist and everything.” Buck hums lightly, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, twisting the sheets between his hands.

“If I didn't make a list I'd have forgotten about half of the things I need.” Eddie remembers the conference Bobby had sent them to last year—Buck had managed to forget his toothbrush, his phone charger and all of his socks. So, yeah, it makes sense that Buck had finally started writing packing lists.

“What suit are you bringing?” Buck asks, pushing up from the bed and walking over to the closet. He starts slowly rifling through Eddie’s clothes.

“I don't think you've seen it, I haven’t worn it since…” he trails off. He hadn’t worn it since Shannon’s funeral.

He hadn't been able to get himself to wear it to anything else after that. It had been shoved to the back of his closet, an attempt at avoiding the constant reminder that his wife (ex wife?) had died. Because, though he had finally allowed himself to start sorting through the grief that came with her death, it was one thing to deal with grief and a whole other beast entirely to be reminded of it first thing every morning. He had briefly considered packing a different suit for Margaret's funeral, but none of his others really worked for the occasion, and he didn't have time to go and buy a new suit before they left.

Buck is still looking through his closet. Every once in a while he pauses, considering, before pulling something off of its hanger and tossing it toward the bed. It takes a second for Eddie to realize that Buck is packing for him. He swallows a laugh and places his suitcase on the bed, unzipping it.

He glances over the pile of shirts briefly, before he grabs the closest one and starts folding. He was just going to pack random clothes anyways, so he might as well just wear whatever Buck had picked out for him. It doesn’t take him long to notice a pattern in the clothes he’s folding: almost every shirt is one that Buck had complimented him on before. Eddie wants to read into that, to make it mean something, but he’s still far too tired, his brain is probably operating on 50% capacity at best. So, he decides to push it aside for now, compartmentalize it in the part of his brain that he reserves for all things Buck related.

He lets his mind fall back to their upcoming flight, trying to figure out what else he needs to pack. He’s folding the last remaining shirt, when a pair of pants hits him in the back.

He glances over his shoulder at Buck, “You missed.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Asshole,” he grumbles, though he’s unable to stop his fond smile, so he’s probably not very successful at conveying the sentiment. He leans over to grab the pants from the floor and feels his mouth twitch. Buck had chosen quite possibly the tightest pair of jeans that Eddie owns. Eddie dutifully packs them.

They don't talk much while they pack; Buck is still quieter than usual, subdued in a way he usually only gets after their rougher shifts, but he looks more alert than he did when Eddie had first seen him this morning, more present in the moment—it’s a slight comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Buck throws him a few more things to pack, before he finally reaches the back of the closet. His eyes dart over the suit, and he reaches out, about to pull the hanger down, but he pauses with his hand frozen in a half aborted gesture. He turns, looking at Eddie, a hesitant and unspoken question in his eyes. Eddie nods and Buck turns back around, hand closing around the hanger as he pulls it from the closet, and starts walking to the bed. Buck is holding the suit almost carefully, one hand on the hanger and the other tucked underneath the back of it, like he’s carrying something delicate.

When he reaches the bed, he pauses for a second, trying to figure out the best way to set it down. Eddie pushes his suitcase to the side, giving Buck more space to work with. He takes a small step forward and lays the suit across the length of the bed.

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly, and Buck just nods and returns to rifling through Eddie’s room.

-------------------------------

Most of the afternoon is passed in relative silence. Buck is busy typing on his laptop. Though, it doesn’t look like he’s getting very far, because every time he finishes typing something, he sighs and proceeds to delete it in its entirety. Eddie had asked if Buck needed help earlier in the day, but his friend had quickly waved him off and returned to mumbling under his breath at his computer.

So, with his assistance apparently unneeded, Eddie spends the majority of the day bouncing between cleaning around the house and reading through a book that Buck had left on his coffee table a few weeks back. He does that sometimes when he wants Eddie to read something, leaves it in his living room or next to his bed knowing that Eddie will eventually pick it up. Buck’s eclectic taste in nonfiction books has been veering towards queer history in the last few months. So, Eddie ends up spending half of his afternoon reading a book on the comprehensive history of drag.

It’s getting later in the evening now, and Buck and Eddie are partway through a chess match—something they’ve been doing more and more recently since learning Chris had joined a chess club. Chris is getting older, as much as Eddie is loath to admit it, and his interests are changing. Eddie is trying to keep up with him as best as possible. And, though that’s harder to do when his son is halfway across the country, he’s still gonna try. So, they’re playing chess, an almost nightly occurrence at this point.

Buck moves his rook forward and clears his throat, “I had therapy before we went to the movies last night.” Eddie straightens immediately, Buck didn’t typically talk about his therapy sessions. Sure, he would mention when he had an appointment, but Eddie usually didn’t get any more information than that. He certainly wasn’t telling Buck about his therapy appointments either, so he didn’t blame him.

Buck, who had been staring intently at the table, flits his eyes up to meet Eddie’s gaze, like he’s waiting to see if Eddie wants him to continue. Eddie nods at him, he would be hard pressed to find an instance where he doesn’t want to hear what Buck has to say. And then, for the first time since his mom died, Buck opens up to him. He starts talking and it’s like a dam has been broken.

He tells Eddie about his last couple therapy sessions, about how he’s feeling so much and how nothing he’s feeling seems right—even though Doctor Copeland keeps reminding him that there’s no right way to mourn. He continues the chess match while he talks, like he wants a distraction from his own words, like he’s scared of what will happen if he allows himself to focus the entirety of his attention on his grief.

There are times when Buck comes to him for advice, but Eddie can tell this isn’t one of those times. Buck is just talking to get it out, to talk to someone who isn’t his therapist about how he’s feeling. He just wants Eddie to hear what he’s saying, to make him feel a little less alone. Because, even though Buck hasn’t been alone in years, Eddie knows that he still has a hard time accepting that sometimes, that he needs reminders that he has a family now, that he has people around him that want to hear about his day.

When Buck’s done talking, his shoulders drop, like just talking to Eddie allowed something in him to relax. He glances back down at the chessboard and smiles, sliding his bishop forward.

“Checkmate,” Buck says, voice unfathomably smug. Eddie groans.

“I feel like you’ve been secretly researching chess strategies and keeping them to yourself,” Buck doesn’t have to answer for Eddie to know he’s right, of course Buck had been researching chess in his spare time. “Hey, wanna give Chris a call? He's usually free around now.”

“Is that even a question?” Buck asks, already reaching across the table to grab Eddie’s phone.

-------------------------------

“Did she give you an ETA?”

Buck gives a half shrug. “She said to go through security and they’ll just meet us at the gate. It’s taking longer than they thought it would to get Jee ready.”

Eddie nods, flipping his backpack around to pull their boarding passes out. He had insisted on getting their tickets printed when they got to the airport. Buck had looked at him like he found Eddie’s continued distrust of technology equal parts idiotic and charming, which Eddie was actively choosing to not be insulted by. He refuses to put his fate in the hands of his phone, he’s the reasonable one here.

Despite the early hour, the airport is still relatively crowded and the security line advances at a remarkably slow pace. Buck is quiet as they shuffle forward, leaning almost his entire body weight against Eddie every time the line stops moving.

By the time they’re finally through security, Eddie is even more tired than when they got to the airport. Luckily, the walk to their gate isn’t very far, and it seems like most of their flight hasn’t made it through security yet, as the seating area is nearly empty.

-------------------------------

They’ve been sitting at their gate for a half hour when Maddie and Chimney sit down across from them. Jee climbs up between them, leaning against her dad like she’s seconds away from falling asleep.

Eddie nods at them, trying to avoid being too loud in hopes of letting Jee fall back asleep. It’s been almost a month since he last saw Maddie in person, and her recent grief has taken a definite toll on her. The dark circles under her eyes are almost as bad as Buck’s, and her face is slightly puffy, like she had been crying recently. Chimney doesn’t look like he’s faring much better. But, he’s seen Chimney over the last few days, so the change isn’t nearly as drastic.

Eddie leans over to elbow Buck, who is currently nose deep in his latest book and still hasn’t looked up. He turns to glance at Eddie, eyebrow raised in question and Eddie tilts his head to the seats across from them. Buck refocuses his gaze, and his eyes quickly land on Jee-Yun. A tired smile pulls at his face. His eyes drift up to Chimney and his sister, and he lifts his hand in a small, dorky wave.

Eddie unlocks his phone and shoots a brief text to Chris, letting him know that they made it to the airport. He probably won’t get a response till they land in Hershey, it’s barely 5 AM, but Chris had asked Eddie to keep him updated. Eddie, happy that Chris was talking with him again, had probably been a bit over enthusiastic with his updates so far. But, Chris had yet to complain, so he would take his wins where he could get them.

He closes his chat with Chris and opens his text thread with Buck, scrolling up till he finds the link he sent him to a forum on a chess site. He’s just starting to scroll through the site, when he sees Buck yawn from the corner of his eye. And, less than thirty seconds later, he yawns again. It’s when Buck has begun yawning for the third time, that Eddie gets an idea.

“Hey,” Eddie rests his hand above Buck’s knee, squeezing lightly. “I’ll be right back,” he says, waiting till Buck nods and then pushing out of his seat. They had passed a coffee shop on the way to their gate earlier, and it shouldn't take long for Eddie to find it again.

“Hey!” Eddie glances over his shoulder, stopping when he sees Maddie attempting to hurry after him. Though, she’s still barely awake and her current version of a fast walk mostly involves quickly dragging her feet across the floor.

“Coffee?” Eddie asks when she catches up.

“Please.”

The line at the cafe is short, and they only have to wait a minute before one of the registers opens up. Eddie darts his gaze over the menu, Buck takes his coffee pretty simple when they’re at home, but every time they go to a new coffee shop, he tries to find something he hasn’t had before.

Eddie is almost done scanning the menu, when he finally finds a drink Buck hasn’t tried yet. He turns to Maddie to get her order, and then takes a small step forward to relay everything to the barista. He pays mindlessly and they move to the side to wait for their drinks.

“How’s Jee holding up?” He had heard bits and pieces from Buck, but he knows Buck couldn’t possibly know everything. And, though he does genuinely want to know how Jee is doing, he also wants to check on Maddie.

“As well as can be expected I guess, which is… not that great. I mean, she knows about death, but it’s one thing to know about something in theory and another to…” she trails off, biting her lip. “I don’t know if she’s fully processed it yet, she really only saw my mom when they would come to visit or when we would do our monthly video calls. I had to cancel the last one,” she says, voice strained.

Eddie had wanted to check on Jee-Yun, to talk to Maddie before they were swept up with funeral planning and Buckley family drama. But, now she’s on the verge of crying in an airport cafe at five in the morning, and he’s starting to think that maybe he should have waited to ask. Though, it’s never a good time to talk about death, Eddie would know.

“Maddie,” he’s been there before, beating himself up over a single conversation, a single decision, for years. He knows that whatever he says won’t make her stop revisiting that memory over and over again, feeling guilty over something she’ll never be able to change. But, he has to say something. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

He starts to reach toward her, an aborted movement that he abandons halfway through. Buck thrives on physical touch, finds it grounding, comforting; Eddie doesn’t know if Maddie’s the same, and he doesn’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she currently is. So, he drops his hand back to his side.

Though they text semi-frequently, and though Buck talks about Maddie almost daily, Eddie doesn’t see her in person all that often. There’s still so much he doesn’t know about her. This week will be the most time they’ve ever spent together, and he wishes the circumstances were quite literally anything else, that they weren’t currently en route to her mother’s funeral. Eddie thinks that Chimney would know what to do, what to say, but he isn’t here.

“You didn’t know,” he repeats. “People cancel plans all the time.”

Maddie nods, wiping under her eyes. “I know, it’s just,” she stops herself, shakes her head.

“I know. I get it.”

“Anyways,” she lifts her head, eyes gleaming. “You asked about Jee,” Eddie wants to correct her, tell her that he had wanted to know how she was doing as well, but she continues before he gets a chance. “We’ve been talking about my mom a lot, definitely more than usual—I don't want to force the conversation if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but… I want Jee to know that it’s okay to talk about her, that she doesn’t have to grieve in silence.” Maddie winces at that, and Eddie wants to reach out again. He knows that Maddie is familiar with having to muffle your grief.

“No one’s going to get everything perfect.” Something he knows all too well. “But, I think you’re doing a good job. You’re a great mom, Maddie. And, from what Buck’s told me, Jee seems to be holding up the best she can, all things considered. He sent me some photos from—”

“Do you… how’s he doing? I know I just saw him, but… he tends to tell you more than anyone else.”

"He's," Eddie sighs, wringing his hands together. "He hasn't been sleeping, it’s been pretty hard on him.” Maddie nods, like she had been expecting as much. “But… he’s managing, and I think being around everyone has helped.” She starts to open her mouth, like she wants to say something, but she hesitates. It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then she nods, determined.

“This is probably weird, but,” she shrugs, like she had already decided she didn’t care if it was weird. “I wanted to thank you… for coming with us. And for… I know Buck has been staying with you the past few days,” Buck had been staying with him a lot longer than that, but if he hadn’t mentioned that to his sister, Eddie certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. “And, I know he can take care of himself, I know we’re not little kids anymore but… I think he would be doing a lot worse right now if he didn’t have you. You’re really good for him.” It sounds suspiciously like she’s giving him her blessing.

Eddie can’t help his smile at that. “He’s good for me too.”

Maddie nods. “Yeah,” she tilts her head, a slightly devious smile growing on her face. “Chimney and I are like that too. We make each other better.” She raises an eyebrow at him and Eddie scoffs; her comments have been getting less and less subtle lately. Somehow she’s even bolder about it in person than over text, or maybe she’s just losing her patience. He can’t bring himself to feel annoyed, not when teasing him is giving her some much needed reprieve, and not when they both know she’s right.

Eddie is trying to figure out a way to respond that isn't completely revealing, he wants to pretend to be at least partly oblivious, if only for his own sanity. The barista calls out their order and he walks back over to grab their tray of drinks, hoping that his brief departure will be enough to move the conversation to a different topic. Luckily, Maddie takes mercy on him, and they spend the short walk back in comfortable silence.

By the time they get back to their gate, Buck has abandoned his book. He’s leaning forward in his seat, talking quietly to Chimney, who looks to be nodding back at him. They're completely engrossed in their conversation, and don't notice Eddie and Maddie walking up to them until they've already sat down.

Eddie passes Buck his drink, and Buck looks at him like he performed some kind of minor miracle and didn’t just buy him shitty airport coffee. Eddie can feel a blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks and he looks away, absurdly hoping that if he turns his head to the side Buck won’t be able to see it.

He has only been back in his seat for a few minutes when the loudspeaker system buzzes to life, announcing that boarding is about to start. Eddie stands back up, taking a second to stretch, before grabbing his backpack and following Buck to line up near the wall. Boarding is (as to be expected) a boring, slow process.

They get their tickets scanned and make their way onto the plane to wait in yet another slow moving line. Maddie woke Jee up to board the flight and her eyes are moving around rapidly, like she’s taking in something new and fascinating. Eddie realizes that this probably is something new for her, that this is most likely her first time on a plane—flying to attend a funeral. Maybe when Chris gets back they can all go somewhere together, find a fun trip to go on and make some better memories. Maddie notices her looking around and smiles at her, bending down slightly to point at things around the plane, whispering to Jee as she does.

Buck nudges his arm and Eddie turns his gaze from Jee and Maddie to see that they’ve reached their seats. He stifles a yawn and hands Buck his backpack, watching as he pushes it into the overhead bin, his upper arms flexing against his shirt sleeves. Eddie takes a steadying breath, darting his gaze to the floor, it's probably not the best time to be ogling his friend. He sees Buck in the gym every week, it's not like the sight is anything new. But, well, Eddie had been pretty distracted in the gym the last couple months. He probably wasn't staring that much more than usual, but he was aware of it now in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

He had been trying to stop looking away recently, he wanted Buck to know he was wanted, that Eddie wanted him. And, he had been getting better at it, but they were usually at home or at work, not on a plane surrounded by hundreds of strangers. He takes another deep breath and forcibly lifts his gaze from the floor. Buck is already looking at him, head tilted in question, and he feels another rush of heat to his face.

“Hey, you okay?” And then, as if Eddie wasn't flustered enough, Buck lifts his hand and rubs his thumb across the blush of Eddie’s cheek. Someone clears their throat behind them and Eddie realizes that Buck has already put both of their bags up, and they’ve definitely been blocking the aisle for far longer than socially acceptable. He jolts into action, moving to sit down and tugging Buck into the seat next to him.

Eddie looks across the aisle and makes near-instant eye contact with Maddie, who appears to be holding back laughter. He checks to make sure Jee’s distracted, and then he does the mature thing and flips Maddie off. She shakes her head at him, smiling, and he can’t help but smile back at her. He’s glad his embarrassing crush on his best friend is bringing joy to someone.

Eddie turns back around, stifling another yawn; maybe once the flight takes off he’ll finally be able to get some sleep. He needs all the rest he can get, considering he’s going to be spending the coming week with Phillip Buckley, a man that—to put it lightly—Eddie has never liked. Eddie had never spent much time around Buck's parents, but he had heard plenty of stories about them, more than enough to know exactly how he feels about their father. He’s glad that Buck let him come with them, because—as much as he’s dreading the next week—he wants to be there for Buck, to support him in whatever way he can.

The plane starts moving, and Eddie realizes that he must have missed the safety spiel while he was lost in his head. He checks his phone one last time, before switching it to airplane mode and shifting his attention to Buck. While Eddie has been getting progressively more tired, it seems like Buck has been gaining more and more energy. His eyes are bouncing around the plane, restless, and his fingers are wrapped around the end of his seatbelt, obsessively fidgeting with the stitching.

Eddie reaches over, pulling Buck’s hand from his lap and threading their fingers together. Buck turns to face him, looking slightly surprised at the action, but the surprise quickly fades, replaced with something soft and fond. The plane begins moving faster, gaining speed on the runway and preparing for takeoff. Eddie takes a calming breath, squeezing Buck’s hand and leaning back in his seat.

Chapter Text

Buck doesn’t know what to do with himself, usually when he knew he had a long drive or flight, he would prepare ahead of time—make playlists or download audiobooks, something to keep himself occupied. He didn’t prepare anything this time, it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He had packed a book, but he had given up trying to read it about an hour into the flight. His mind was too anxious, and he couldn’t get himself to concentrate for long enough to read more than a paragraph. Besides, it was hard to turn the page with one hand, and Eddie was still holding his other hand—he had fallen asleep holding his hand. Buck knows he could have pulled away hours ago, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to do it, afraid that if he let go, he wouldn’t get this chance again.

So, here he is, somehow simultaneously bored out of his mind and getting more and more anxious by the minute, barely able to move because his best friend fell asleep on his shoulder.

He could wake Eddie up, beg for a distraction, but Eddie was already coming all this way for Buck, spending a week putting up with his father and Buck’s grief, and he didn’t want to ask for more. He had always asked for too much from people, and he didn’t want to do that to Eddie, ask for more and more until it finally became too much.

Eddie shifts closer to him in his sleep, butting his head lightly against the side of Buck’s neck. Buck tilts his head, letting Eddie burrow in closer and releasing a shaky breath. He can already feel his heart picking up speed, the flush making its way across his cheeks.

It didn’t used to impact him this much: having Eddie so close to him. He had always craved it, sought it out, but it hadn’t made him feel like his brain was short circuiting. It was different now. Because, although they had always been tactile, he had never been as actively aware of it as he was now.

For years, Buck had never even considered that men were an option for him. He knew about bisexuality, obviously, but it had never really crossed his mind that he could be bisexual. He had always looked at other men, but he thought it was just a passing admiration, something everyone did. He had never thought to second guess his relationship with Eddie, to question the way he felt about him. And then, Tommy had happened, and everything he thought he had known was flipped on its head.

But, even after he had started figuring out his sexuality, it had still taken a while for him to recognize his feelings for what they really were. He had been swept up in a new relationship, in navigating this part of himself that he had never known about.

And then (like always), came the breakup, and he had been so caught up in the fact that he had another failed relationship, that he had been left by yet another person, that it took some time for him to realize that he didn’t miss Tommy. He wasn’t upset that Tommy had broken up with him, he was upset about what it meant, what it said about him that this relationship ended like all of his others—that he wasn’t enough to stay for, that maybe he would never be enough to stay for (a sentiment that Doctor Copeland had had a field day with).

The whole thing had him spiraling slightly—he can admit that he doesn’t often have a good reaction to being left, no matter who’s leaving. It took him longer than it probably should have to realize that he was happy about the breakup, that they weren’t right for each other. Looking back at it, he wasn’t even sure Tommy liked him half the time—he barely listened when Buck talked, he never planned any of their dates, and he steamrolled over every attempt Buck had made at a deeper emotional connection. So, when it came down to it, he found that he was grateful that things had ended when they did.

And, for the first time in a while, he had been excited to be single. He had found out he was queer and jumped immediately into a new relationship; the breakup gave him a chance to explore the new aspects of his identity that he had never really thought about before. The exploration part was fun for a bit, it was like he was conducting a controlled experiment—trying to figure out what he was attracted to, what he liked.

It had been fun… until he turned and looked at Eddie and thought—am I attracted to him?— and his brain came to a screeching halt. He had always known Eddie was beautiful, that was a given. But, knowing your best friend is beautiful and knowing you’re attracted to them are two completely different things.

He had tried to reassure himself, to quell the rising panic. And, it worked for a bit, he had been attracted to plenty of his friends over the years, it wasn’t world-ending that he was attracted to Eddie. In fact, it made perfect sense.

The problem came when he started trying to figure out what he wanted in a relationship—he was tired of ending up in relationships that never went anywhere, he wanted something long-term, he wanted a partner. He wanted to find someone to build a life with, someone that made him feel safe, someone that made him laugh. And, when he really thought about it, there was an obvious person that came to mind. It was almost laughable how glaringly obvious the whole thing was.

It shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did, Eddie had been his partner in almost every way since the day he had met him. So, of course Eddie was everything he could possibly want. He wasn’t just attracted to him… he had been unknowingly falling in love with him for years. Well, it was probably more accurate to say he had fallen in love with Eddie, falling would imply that he’s still only part way there—there was no more falling to do, he had crash landed a long time ago.

If he thought realizing he was attracted to Eddie was panic-inducing, realizing he was in love with him was so much worse. He didn’t know what to do with himself, he had spent hours pacing his apartment before coming to the conclusion that he had to take his feelings for Eddie and bury them as far down as possible.

Every one he had ever loved, ever dated, had left him. He wasn’t enough for any of them. Sure, he had friends that had stuck by his side for years now, but it was different when it came to romantic relationships—he's never been wanted like that, not long term. He couldn’t risk that happening with Eddie, he couldn’t risk losing him.

It was weird, knowing his feelings and doing nothing with them. Normally, he rushed into things headfirst, led with his heart above anything else. But, it was different with Eddie—he wasn’t just some guy he was interested in, he’s his best friend, and Eddie and Chris are the most important people in his life. And, even though every logical part of him knew that Eddie wouldn’t abandon him if he didn’t feel the same, he was still afraid of being left (a fear that clung to him no matter how many times he tried to shake it).

Buck had decided to try and distance himself from Eddie, just for a bit, just till he felt like he could breathe around him without accidentally blurting out a love confession. But, Chris was gone. Chris was gone and Eddie was hurting, and Buck couldn’t do that to him—he couldn’t push him away with no explanation when he was going through one of the worst times of his life.

So, he pulled himself together and stopped avoiding Eddie (a failed plan that had only lasted a few hours at most anyways); if anything, he started spending more time around him. His friend needed him and he wasn’t going to abandon him just because he had a life-changing realization. He had tried to act normal around him, but he couldn’t remember what that looked like for them.

After a week of this—of counting the number of seconds he allowed himself to look at Eddie, of trying to figure out the perfect platonic amount of physical contact—he had finally started to calm down (at least slightly). He was in love with Eddie and there was nothing he could do to change that, he just had to learn to live with it, to push his longing down enough times that it stopped trying to spill out of him.

But, when he stopped focusing so intently on trying to keep his feelings in check, he noticed something: when he was looking at Eddie, Eddie was looking right back at him, Eddie was even initiating more and more physical touch—leaning his head against Buck’s shoulder, sliding their legs together at the dinner table, sitting so close to him that their thighs were almost resting on top of each other.

Which… was confusing. Because, maybe if it was anyone else, Buck would have thought that it meant something. But, he and Eddie had always been close, maybe not this close, but Eddie had been through a lot this last year, so… maybe he needed the extra comfort, maybe he found Buck’s touch as soothing as Buck found his.

And, Eddie was straight, and even though it wasn’t that long ago that Buck had thought he was straight too, Eddie isn’t Buck—no matter how attached at the hip they are—just because he had had a queer awakening in his thirties didn’t mean Eddie was going to have one too.

He doesn’t know where that leaves him. Even if things never change, he’s happy with what they have now, it was more than he ever thought he would have. Buck had never had a real best friend before Eddie, he had moved around so often, searching for somewhere that he couldn’t seem to find no matter how hard he looked. And now, he had found the family he never thought he’d get to have, and these last few years had been the best years of his life.

So… he liked where he was at now, even if he couldn’t help but want more sometimes, even if he wants Eddie more than he probably should.

Buck glances down, staring at Eddie’s hand in his lap, at the way that Eddie is holding onto him even in his sleep. And, he thinks maybe, maybe this is something he’s allowed to want, maybe his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he keeps telling himself.

He tilts his head back, turning his gaze to the flight tracker. The few times Buck had been on a plane, he had spent almost the entire flight counting down the minutes till the plane landed. He didn’t like the lack of control, the confinement. But, for the first time, he finds himself wishing that the flight wouldn't end.

Every second that passes they’re getting closer and closer to his childhood home. He hasn’t been back to Hershey since he practically fled all those years ago. Even after he had started trying to talk to his parents more, they had never asked him to visit, and he had never offered. He hadn't wanted to go back; it had been more comfortable, meeting with them in LA—did home field advantage apply to having dinner with your parents? It certainly felt like it did. There was a comfort in being able to retreat back to his apartment, or—more often than not—to retreat to Eddie’s house.

So, it had been years since he had even considered returning to Hershey. But, he didn't have a choice anymore, he had to go back, back to his childhood home and every memory he had long tried to avoid.

“Hey,” Buck turns to find the man next to him glaring at him. “Would you mind not…” the guy trails off, gesturing broadly at Buck.

It takes a second for him to realize what the man is talking about. His right leg is shaking rapidly, jostling both his seat and the seat next to him. He places his free hand over his leg and tries to hold it still, turning back to the guy and mouthing an apology, clearly he hasn’t done a great job at masking his growing anxiety.

His eyes dart to the flight tracker again. 37 minutes to go.

-------------------------------

Buck had barely talked to his father since he had called to tell him his mother died; most of the information he had about the funeral had been relayed to him by Maddie. He had texted a couple of times in the last few days, and his father had sent back short—though not necessarily curt—responses.

His last message to him had been to let him know that Eddie would be coming to Hershey with them, his father had reacted to the message with a thumbs up, and Buck had found himself vaguely shocked that his dad even knew how to do that; he had never been the best with technology when Buck was growing up, but apparently he had adjusted well enough in recent years.

Their father had texted Maddie last night and offered to pick them all up from the airport. Maddie had left the decision up to him, seeming not to care either way.

Buck had briefly considered accepting the offer, even if he didn’t really want his father to pick them up. He has a hard time saying no to his dad, especially because he knows that offering to do things like pick them up from the airport or buy them dinner is how his father shows that he cares. And, part of him was afraid that his dad would take it personally if they said no, that the rejection would hurt their already fragile relationship.

But, they would already be staying in the same house as him for the next week, and the idea of not having a car—a way to escape—felt too confining, too suffocating. He ended up having Maddie tell their dad that they didn’t need a ride.

And now, they’re piled into a rental car with Chimney in the driver’s seat; he had claimed it was because he wanted aux privileges, but Buck knows Chimney well enough by now to know when he’s covering up a nice gesture with humor. Chimney’s driving because he knows that neither Buck nor Maddie would be able to focus well enough on the road right now, and Eddie was still barely awake by the time their plane landed.

His parent’s house is a forty minute drive from the airport, and Buck is watching the minutes tick down like someone preparing for the gallows. He doesn’t know what to expect, the last time his dad had lost someone like this was Daniel, and he had tried to ignore that, to push it down and move forward. He couldn’t do that here, he couldn’t pretend that his wife had never existed. So, Buck has no clue what they’re going to be walking into. He doesn’t know how his father processes grief when he’s not burying it under lock and key.

He watches as they pass another freeway exit, getting closer to his childhood home, to his father. He can feel his breathing getting harsher, his thoughts becoming more and more muddled and less and less comprehensible—the tell-tale signs of the beginning of a panic attack, something he’s gotten better at identifying over the last few years. Buck rubs his palms over the fabric of his pants, a pathetic and unsuccessful attempt at self-soothing. If anything, recognizing his rising anxiety has just made it worse, now he’s somehow managed to become anxious about how anxious he is.

Something nudges against his leg and he feels himself jump, startled at the interruption of his spiraling thoughts. Eddie is reaching across Jee, his hand tapping against Buck’s knee to get his attention. Buck is about to ask what’s going on when Eddie turns his hand over, a bright yellow candy sitting in the center of his palm.

Buck raises an eyebrow, but reaches forward and grabs the candy without much thought, his hands shaking slightly as he pulls open the wrapper. He looks back at Eddie and he nods at him, encouraging. And, well, Buck isn’t gonna question him. Eddie tends to know what he’s doing… most of the time at least. So, he pops the candy into his mouth, barely having to wait a second before a sharp, tart flavor fills his mouth.

Oh. His mind flashes back to the research he had done on panic attacks all those years ago: how sour candy can shock the system, distracting your brain by giving it something new to focus on. He finds it both comforting and scary that Eddie knows him so well, that he could tell Buck was spiraling even when he hadn’t said a single word.

He hadn't actually tested out the sour candy since he had learned about it, he kept meaning to pick some up at the store, but it had always slipped his mind. Eddie remembered though, he had probably even tried it himself at some point.

It’s only been a few seconds, and Buck already feels more alert than he did a minute ago. His phone buzzes in his hand and he glances down, a text from Eddie displayed across his lockscreen.

Eddie: 5 things you can see

He sets his phone down and takes a deep, shaky breath. They’ve done this a few times before, it’s a patented therapy technique—one that he begrudgingly had to admit was helpful more often than not.

Five things he can see. One: Jee. She’s sitting between him and Eddie, far less tired than she was when they boarded the flight, a slight smile on her face as she rummages through her mini backpack. Two: Eddie, he’s wearing one of Buck’s old shirts, the graphic on the front almost completely faded. He has a habit of stealing Buck’s comfiest clothes, not that Buck minds, he finds his shirts tend to look better on Eddie anyway, though he supposes he might be biased. Three: Cars, far less cars than he’s used to seeing on the freeway in the afternoon, but they’re not in LA anymore, so he probably should have expected that. Four: Maddie, she’s leaning forward in her seat, her nose scrunched as she types something out on her phone. Five: the sky, covered almost entirely in a layer of clouds.

Four things he can touch. One: the floor of the car underneath his shoes. Two: the fabric of his sweatpants, well-worn and familiar. Three: the plastic wrapper from the candy. Four: he shifts his left hand, moving it so he can feel his pulse, his heart still beating far faster than normal, but beating nonetheless.

Three things he can hear. One: Chimney, quietly humming to some old country song that Buck is pretty sure he’s never heard before. Two: Jee muttering something to Eddie as she points out the window. Three: the hum of the engine, quieter than he’s used to, but still loud enough to be audible over the radio.

Two things he can smell. One: unfortunately, himself. He reeks of the airport, and his nose wrinkles in vague disgust. He definitely needs to shower when they get to the house. Two: whatever brand of cleaning product the rental company had used before they picked the car up, the scent is a weird mix of chemicals and vanilla.

One thing he can taste: the sour candy still dissolving on his tongue, a tart lemon flavor that has gotten less and less strong in the last couple minutes.

He shifts his hand again, moving to feel his pulse, and though it’s still quicker than he’s used to, it’s starting to slow down. His thoughts are clearer, less muddled. It’s not perfect, but he’s not on the verge of a panic attack anymore, so it’s a welcome improvement.

He hears Chim switch the turn signal on as they move off the freeway, they can’t be too far from the house now. Buck’s gaze darts out the window, it’s weird how much of his hometown has changed. Some of the shopping centers they pass are almost entirely unrecognizable: half of the local stores have been replaced with corporate chains, and even the stores that he does recognize look like they’ve been remodeled in recent years.

He sits up as they drive past his old school, pointing out the building to Eddie and Jee. Jee nods along with him, taking a brief glance at the school, before returning her attention to more important things (the stuffed animal currently sitting in her lap).

Eddie squints out the window, like he’s assessing the new information Buck just handed him, “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Buck narrows his eyes at him. “I guess I've just never really pictured where you went to school… it’s weird that there’s still things that I don’t know about you.”

“Yeah,” Buck didn’t talk about high school that often, he didn’t talk much about Hershey in general. “Well, I’m sure you’re about to find out a whole lot more.”

Eddie makes a strange expression, mouth twisted and eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t respond. And Buck definitely doesn’t have anything else to say, not right now at least.

His old school is only a mile away from their house, and it doesn’t take much longer until they’re turning into his parents' neighborhood. Buck takes a deep breath, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his hands; they haven’t even reached the house yet and his brain is already flooding with memories—memories that he had been carefully avoiding since the day he left Hershey.

He had never wanted to come back here, but now he finds himself wishing that he had ripped the bandaid off earlier, that his first time returning to his hometown wasn’t to help plan his mother’s funeral. The car bounces slightly as Chimney pulls into the driveway, taking a second to straighten his parking job before cutting the engine. Buck can hear movement around him: seatbelts unbuckling, car doors opening and closing, the muffled sound of Chimney and Maddie talking as they open the trunk to start pulling out their luggage. Even Jee has already made it out of the car, she’s standing between her parents, swinging her arms back and forth impatiently.

“Hey,” Eddie slides back into the car, placing his hand on Buck’s shoulder and squeezing encouragingly. “You ready?”

“No,” he sighs. “Let’s do this.” Buck takes another breath and pushes the door open, hurrying to grab his luggage so he can follow Maddie and Chim to the house. Eddie catches up to him, pressing their shoulders together as they wait.

Jee rings the doorbell and takes a small step back, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. There’s a part of Buck that wants to run before his father reaches the door, grab the keys from Chimney and drive until he’s back in LA. He doesn’t run, as much as he wants to, this isn’t something he can avoid.

His father pulls the door open and Buck’s thoughts come to a screeching halt at the sight of him. No matter how many times Buck had said that his mother died, there was a part of him that didn’t believe it, that didn’t want to believe it. But, seeing his dad standing alone, leaning against the doorframe like it’s the only thing preventing him from collapsing to the ground, it becomes impossible to deny. There was nothing else that would make his father look like this—like his entire world had fallen apart around him.

Phillip Buckley had never been a happy man, but this was different. Buck had never seen him like this, had never seen his emotions so clearly on display. He knew his parents loved each other, or at least he assumed they did, they had stayed together through one of the greatest losses a couple could face, so that had to mean something, right?

But he had never seen much evidence of that love, they had never been very physically or even verbally affectionate. He can see it now, in the way his father is completely weighed down by his grief—the grief of someone who just lost the love of their life.

He can’t remember the last time he saw his dad without his mom next to him, they had morphed into a single entity in his mind and now it feels like part of his dad is gone, it feels wrong to see him standing there alone.

No one has said anything yet, like they're all individually shocked at the sight of each other. His dad’s eyes are scanning them, an almost blank expression on his face. He sees the moment his father notices Jee, he stops leaning so heavily against the doorframe and pulls himself up, forcing his face into a twisted semblance of a smile. Buck hates that he’s so familiar with that expression.

“Hi dad,” Maddie greets.

“Grandpa!” Jee takes a wobbly step forward, lifting her arms up to reach for a hug. His dad jolts, blinking rapidly for a second before he pushes off the door frame and kneels down, pulling Jee into his arms. The hug lasts longer than usual, his father folding himself into the embrace like he's crumbling.

“Right, well,” Phillip stands again and takes a step backwards. “Come on in.”

They all shuffle past his father into the house, and Buck winces as he hears the door close behind them. He already feels trapped, which is absurd because the door isn’t locked, he can leave whenever he wants. But, he needs to be here. He needs to be here for Maddie and for his father and even for himself. He thought he was prepared to be back in Hershey, as prepared as he could be, but clearly he was wrong.

They follow his father into the living room, standing around in a weird semi-circle, facing each other the way people usually do in a group conversation except… no one’s talking. There’s a weighted silence in the air and Buck can feel the familiar panic he just pushed down rising back up again. He takes the opportunity to dart his gaze around the house, trying to distract himself before he flies into a blind panic at the thought of talking to his father.

The house looks different than the last time he saw it, which he should have expected, but he can’t help his shock at the realization. His parents had never changed the decor that much when they were growing up, even when one of their chairs broke, they had just bought the exact same make and model again, like nothing had changed.

Truthfully, not that much has changed even now: there’s a nicer TV set up in the living room, a new rug under the coffee table, but the rest of the furniture looks to be mostly the same as he remembers. Despite this, the house looks different. It probably has less to do with the furniture and more to do with the fact that Buck has never seen his parents house this… untidy.

There’s papers covering the coffee table and dirty dishes stacked next to the couch (a clear attempt to clean up at least part of the clutter). There’s even a bag of trash sitting next to the trash can, like his father couldn’t get himself to walk the distance from the kitchen to the driveway.

Buck feels a twinge of pain, of sympathy. Because he knows what this means, this doesn’t look like the house of someone who has had people coming over to check in on him. No, his father has been alone since Margaret died. He’s been alone, locked inside, surrounded by memories of his wife.

His parents had never been very social people, they tended to keep to themselves more often than not. It was a choice they actively made, Buck knows that—they didn’t want to socialize, to make nice with the neighbors. But, they had never been alone, because they had each other, and now…

Buck has no clue what to say or do. Asking how his father is doing seems redundant, cruel. He can see how he’s doing, and even if he couldn’t, it wouldn’t be hard to assume.

He’s used to giving people condolences, he’s used to talking about death; it’s a part of the job—his least favorite part of the job, but part of it nonetheless. So, he’s more familiar with death than he’d like to be, but this isn’t a random person he met on a call, this is his father. And, even at his best, Buck has always struggled at finding the right thing to say to his parents.

It felt like every conversation with them was an emotional minefield, he never knew what would cause his mother to lash out or his father to retreat into himself, making some half-ass excuse before bailing on them and hiding away in his room.

And, now that his mother was gone… dead, it felt like the rules he had so painstakingly memorized had changed. Everything was different and he hadn’t had time to learn how he was supposed to act yet.

So, he didn’t know what to say. His father had always been less outwardly reactive than his mother, but that didn’t mean he was easy to be around. He could be just as difficult in his own ways.

Buck turns his head, darting his gaze to Maddie almost instinctually. She had always been better with their parents than he was—better at knowing what to say, what to do, how to carefully avoid starting needless arguments.

She had tried harder to appease their parents over the years, to keep a connection with them. Though, that wasn’t entirely true… Buck had tried for years to connect with their parents, so desperate for their attention that he had become reckless.

He had always wanted his parents to like him, and when that didn’t work, he tried to be someone they would like: alternating between diluting his personality to something they found more tolerable or dialing it up to the extreme in hopes of at least getting a reaction out of them. Because, if they were yelling at him, at least they were looking at him, paying attention to him.

And, when that stopped being enough to get their attention, Buck had tried to find other ways to draw them in. He had started picking hobbies solely based on what he thought would garner their approval. His father had always watched Sunday night football, so he figured joining his school’s football team was a safe bet. Only… his father had never made it to any of his games, even after he had taped the schedule on their fridge. It wasn’t a total loss at least, Buck had ended up liking football well enough, he liked that it was a team sport, liked that it gave him something to put his energy into.

But, he kept trying to find other ways to gain their approval. He even tried his hardest to get good grades, even though he had found it nearly impossible to focus in class. That didn’t seem to matter either. Eventually, he gave up on trying to make them happy, nothing he did was good enough for them, and he was tired of trying.

Through it all, he had Maddie, and she had always tried her hardest to keep the peace between everyone, even if she was fighting a losing battle half the time. Buck doesn’t know why she tried so hard to maintain their relationship, but maybe that’s a lie too. Because Maddie has always seen the best in people, she’s always seen the best in him. So, of course that would apply to their parents, even if they had hurt her over and over again.

She had seen a side of their parents that Buck had never known, she knew them before Daniel died, and maybe she still thought them capable of being the parents they had been before everything went to shit.

Buck had relied on Maddie for so long, maybe more than he should have. And, even years later, he can't help but look to her again. He feels like a kid, looking at his sister and hoping that she’ll make everything better, that she’ll know what to do. But, this is new for her too, and she looks just as lost as he feels.

Chimney picks up Jee and steps closer to Maddie until he’s able to place his free hand on her arm. Buck watches as her posture loosens, taking instant comfort from his presence.

His father clears his throat and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “Your rooms are all ready upstairs, if you want to put your stuff down.” He moves his arm, makes a vague gesture at their pile of luggage. “I got the old cot out for Jee-Yun,” his voice is gruff, rough from disuse.

Chimney offers him a small smile, “Thank you.”

It’s awkward, the kind of stilted conversation you would expect from acquaintances, not family. Though, he supposes that’s an accurate enough descriptor for his relationship with his father.

“Right,” Buck turns, grabbing the handle of his suitcase. “Uh, thank you,” he says, wincing almost immediately. “I should probably shower anyways, so…” he pauses again, searching for something else to say. “Maybe I could run to the store when I'm done, find something to make for dinner.”

The offer is almost entirely self-serving—he needs to recalibrate, he’s been in the house for five minutes and he’s already fighting the urge to flee. And, judging by the state of the house, he doubts the fridge is that well-stocked. At least with grocery shopping he could serve a purpose, be semi-helpful during his escape attempt. Besides, dinner was something familiar, something he knew how to do and had a low chance of messing up.

His father nods in response, darting his eyes around the room and blinking rapidly.

Eddie clears his throat, and Buck finds himself relaxing slightly at the mere reminder of his presence. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Buckley.”

His father nods again, face twisted. They have a lot they have to talk about, to plan, but everyone is exhausted right now and Buck doesn’t think they’ll be able to make any real progress today anyways, so he just nods back, flexing his fingers against the handle of his suitcase as he starts toward the stairs.

Eddie follows behind him, his hand pressed against the small of Buck’s back. The wall along the stairway is more decorated than it used to be, covered almost entirely with photos of Jee. It seems his parents have been documenting Jee’s childhood more than they ever did his or Maddie’s. Buck swallows an unwanted bitter feeling, feeling instantly guilty at his line of thought. It’s good, he knows it’s good that they care so much about Jee, he wants her to have as big of a support system as possible. And, he isn’t here to fight with his father over wounds that are over a decade old. He’s here to help plan a funeral.

Buck picks up his pace, reaching the top of the stairs and speed walking across the hall. He opens the door to his old room and freezes; it looks like the room hasn't been touched or even entered in years, nearly everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, only the bed appears to have been recently cleaned and… fuck. Buck hadn't thought about the bed; he was used to sharing a bed with Eddie by now, but they had never shared a bed this small before, they would have to practically sleep on top of each other to fit.

He takes a small step forward, still trying to take everything in, the room looks almost exactly how he left it. He's almost surprised his parents never cleaned his room out, he didn't think they would have kept anything of his.

Eddie follows him into the room, closing the door behind him, and granting them at least a small amount of privacy. Buck hefts his suitcase onto the bed and unzips it, rifling around to find his bathroom bag.

“I can… I can see if my dad has another cot,” he offers.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Don't be ridiculous, we always share.” He looks completely unphased, maybe Buck was making a bigger deal out of it than he needed to, clearly Eddie wasn’t worried. “Besides… a cot, at your age?”

“Alright, kick a man while he's down, why don't you?”

“Just looking out for you,” Eddie responds, a familiar teasing glint in his eyes. And, well, Eddie may have a point, but Buck definitely isn’t gonna tell him that.

He closes his suitcase and turns to walk back across the room. Eddie is watching him, head tilted.

“What?”

Eddie shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“Right,” he pauses, giving Eddie a chance to change his mind, but he’s gone quiet, wandering around the room. “I’ll be right back,” Buck lifts his bathroom bag and Eddie nods.

He crosses the hall, grabbing a towel and retreating into the bathroom to turn on the shower. He twists the dial all the way to the left and leans against the wall, closing his eyes and waiting for the water to heat up. Even with the wall holding him upright, he still feels like he’s about to fall over. Buck can’t remember the last time he was this tired, and they’ve been in Hershey for less than two hours.

He sighs, watching steam slowly fill the shower and moving to pull his shirt off. He can't wait for this week to be over.

Chapter Text

Buck is taking longer than he usually does in the shower, and Eddie has spent the last few minutes actively fighting the urge to go across the hall and check on him, that would probably be crossing a boundary… even for them.

So, he’s resigned himself to pacing Buck’s childhood bedroom, keeping himself distracted by snooping through absolutely everything he can find.

Buck’s room is different from the rest of the house, it looks lived in, which is ironic considering no one has lived here for over a dozen years. Eddie doesn't know what he expected the Buckley house to look like, he had never sat down and pictured it before, but with everything he knows about Buck’s parents, the house seems right on brand.

It’s a nice house, big and thoroughly decorated, but despite the collection of rugs and the art on the walls, the space still feels cold, impersonal, as if it was perfectly curated to show the least amount of personality possible.

He didn’t see a single photo from Buck and Maddie’s childhood anywhere. The wall along the stairs was the only part of the house that had photos displayed, and those were entirely of Jee-Yun.

Buck’s room doesn’t feel cold or impersonal. There’s no generic decorations, no obvious attempts to make the space aesthetically pleasing. It’s a room that very clearly belonged to a teenage boy.

There’s a pile of cleats in the corner, and a motorcycle helmet resting on the dresser next to a carefully displayed baseball. Eddie squints at the glass box, crossing the room to get a closer look. The baseball is somewhat unexpected; he figures Buck must have outgrown the interest, because whenever Eddie has put a game on in the past, Buck would spend the entirety of it with his nose in a book.

It’s weird, trying to piece together all these parts of Buck that he never knew about. Most of them aren’t too shocking: Eddie knew that Buck had played football at some point, he had even known that Buck knew how to ride a motorcycle (something he had found out just a few months ago and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since). So, the helmet and the cleats weren’t much of a surprise.

The collection of space paintings across from the bed makes sense too. Buck had taken Christopher to the planetarium more than a few times over the years, always prepared with a long list of space-related fun facts.

There are more skateboards on the wall than he expected, but even those weren’t particularly surprising when he really thought about it. The guitar, however, was a surprise—he didn’t know Buck could play. Then again, Buck had a habit of picking up and abandoning a hobby within the same week. So, just because he had a guitar didn’t necessarily mean he could play it.

Eddie reaches for the guitar, strumming lightly across the strings, and setting it back down almost immediately. He used to be able to play a song or two, but it had been years since he had even touched a guitar, let alone tried to play one. And, he was far too tired to remember enough of the basics to play anything right now.

He pushes off of the dresser and does another lap around the room, trying to find something else to distract him before he paces a hole through the floor. He stops in front of the closet, bending down to look at the small pile of games stacked on the floor: a few puzzle boxes, a deck of cards, and an old Sherlock Holmes detective game that he remembers seeing in stores when he was a kid. All games, Eddie notes, that you only need one person to be able to play.

The door creaks behind him and Eddie straightens, breathing a small sigh of relief when he sees Buck. He still looks just as tired as he has for the last four days, and his skin is tinged red, flushed from the heat of the shower.

“I forgot how bad the water pressure is in this house,” Buck complains, leaning against the door and sighing heavily, as if the lackluster water pressure was his biggest problem at the moment.

“Is that what took you so long?” Eddie asks, his mouth moving before his brain can catch up.

Buck cocks his head, “Do you usually keep track of how long I’m in the shower?” His eyes aren’t as bright as they usually get when he’s teasing Eddie, but his lips are curved in a slight smile that Eddie can’t help but mirror. He’s missed seeing Buck’s smile the last few days.

He's so caught up in Buck's small display of joy, of normalcy, that it takes him a second to fully process the question. And, when he finally realizes what Buck asked, he freezes. Because, well, he does keep track of how long Buck tends to shower. He doesn’t pull out a stopwatch or anything, but he has a rough idea of how long he usually takes.

His first instinct is to deny, but he's been trying not to do that, so he changes course. “Maybe I do… I tend to notice a lot about you.”

Buck coughs, eyes widening. Eddie knows he messed up their routine, that Buck had expected him to tease him back, to continue the joke, but he thinks this might be even better than their usual teasing. He likes catching Buck off guard, he likes being the one to fluster him.

Buck is still staring at him and Eddie clears his throat. He wants to push further, it’s an addicting feeling: letting himself be completely honest with Buck. But, there was an actual reason why he started this conversation.

“But, that’s not why I… I’m just—” worried about you, he thinks. I’m worried about you.

Buck sighs, pushing away from the door and crossing the room to open his suitcase. “I think I just… needed some time.” He starts digging through his bag, reaching under his laptop to grab a tee shirt. “And then my mind just wouldn’t shut up, I guess I didn’t realize how long it had been,” he shrugs, mouth twisted.

Buck goes to remove his towel, shameless as always, and Eddie’s eyes fly to the ceiling, actively willing himself to not blush. He’s seen Buck getting dressed enough times, they share a locker room, hell they practically share a bedroom, but he wants to focus right now, he wants to have an actual conversation with his friend, and if he lets himself watch Buck change, his brain will become functionally inoperable.

Eddie fishes around for a question, anything to distract him from his half-naked best friend five feet away from him. His eyes dart to the corner of the room.

“What’s with the bed tray?”

“Oh, uh,” Buck falls silent and Eddie turns around, finding him frozen halfway through pulling a pair of jeans on. His eyes are downcast and his mouth is pinched into a thin line. Eddie wishes he could take the question back, rewind time just by a minute. “I got hurt a lot when I was younger, ended up eating a lot of meals in bed… they used to move the tray back and forth from the closet, but eventually they just decided to leave it in here, less work for them I guess,” he shrugs and bends slightly, tugging his jeans further up. “My parents weren’t exactly big on family dinners anyway, so it ended up being kind of convenient to have the tray up here.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to that. Buck had alluded to his childhood injuries before, but he had never put it quite so bluntly. How often does a kid have to get hurt for their parents to keep a bed tray in their room?

“Buck—” his tone must give away his line of thought, because Buck interrupts him almost immediately.

“No, it’s… they weren’t all bad memories, my parents would always spend more time with me when I wasn’t feeling well,” he shrugs again, a casual gesture that would be out of place in the conversation if he was talking to anyone other than Buck. “It was… a few of my best memories with them were actually when I was… you know,” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, pointing toward the bed tray propped up against the wall, and leaving the last part unsaid.

It’s clear that Buck meant the statement to be comforting. But, if anything, it has the opposite effect. The whole thing just makes Eddie feel vaguely nauseous, it makes him want to scream at Buck’s parents. And, he clearly can't do that: Phillip is grieving, and there’s a pretty obvious reason why he can’t yell at Margaret.

Buck is looking at Eddie imploringly, waiting for him to nod and move on.

“That’s not… Buck, you shouldn’t have had to be hurt to get attention from your parents.”

“Yeah, well, I made do with what I had,” Buck’s voice is clipped, harsher than it usually is, and Eddie winces. He should’ve been prepared for a response like that. Of course Buck’s memories with his mom would be a sensitive topic right now. But, Eddie couldn’t just say nothing, couldn’t ignore a statement so blatantly alarming.

Buck starts blinking rapidly, his face flashing through a range of emotions before landing on something close to anguish.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, that was…” Buck collapses onto the bed. “I know you were… I know you’re right. Everything’s just,” he sighs, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I’m just so fucking tired… it’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have…”

“Buck, it’s okay. It wasn’t that bad. And besides,” Eddie shrugs and moves to sit next to him, pressing their legs together. “I’ll give you the dead mom pass, for now.”

“Oh, yeah? How long does that last?”

“Limited time offer, I’d take advantage of it while you can.”

“Oh, I'm planning on it.” Buck’s mouth twists, like he was attempting to smile, but couldn’t get his face to cooperate. His gaze drops to the floor, the light conversation fading away as reality sinks in again. He moves his hand across the bed, rubbing the material of the quilt between his fingers.

“I hate being here,” his voice is quiet, and he’s leaning over like he’s trying to take up the least amount of space possible. He looks so small. It should be ironic, Buck is anything but small, but Eddie has never seen him like this before, has never seen him so completely curled in on himself.

“There’s so many memories of my mom here, and… I’m still so fucking mad at her and I miss her, but I'm not even sure I miss her, it’s more like… I don’t know,” he sighs, clearly frustrated with himself. “I just… I feel like I’m… grieving wrong? Like, I’m sad, clearly I'm sad,” he stops for a second, gesturing to himself, like his appearance is proof of his pain, which… it kind of is. “But all of the other feelings—the anger and the fear and the resentment—I don't know what to do with them.”

Buck had said something similar last night, about how his reaction to his mother’s death felt wrong—that no matter what he was feeling, it didn’t seem like enough, it didn’t feel like he was mourning her how he should be.

“I actually read a wikihow article on grief the other day,” Buck continues. “Like I could make myself follow the steps or…” he scoffs. “Which is quite literally the opposite of what Doctor Copeland told me to do. So, I’m messing that up too.” He laughs then, something bitter and sad.

“Buck, it's your grief, you're allowed to feel whatever it is you're feeling, and… I'm not sure it's possible to grieve wrong.”

“Yeah,” Buck frowns, “That's what Doctor Copeland said too.”

“Well, it seems like she knows what she’s talking about then. And hey,” he nudges Buck. “At least you didn't go and join an underground fight club.”

Buck lets out a short, shocked laugh. “Well, you never know, there's still time.” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay, I probably won’t be joining an underground fight club.”

“See? If we’re measuring bad mourning tactics, it looks like I might have you beat.”

“Hey, you were going through a lot,” he says, like he’s offended on Eddie’s behalf.

“So are you.” Buck blinks slowly at him, his brow furrowed like Eddie has somehow confused him. “Buck?”

“I—” Buck sighs, something bone-deep and exhausted. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Usually am.” Buck raises an eyebrow at him.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Eddie smirks and Buck huffs at him, shoving him lightly. “Anyways,” he sighs again. “I just—I don’t know what to do. There’s so much to figure out still, with the funeral and everything, and I keep trying to write a damn eulogy… even in the shower I was trying… I just—nothing feels right.”

“What can I do to help?” Eddie leans closer, resting his hand against Buck’s leg and squeezing lightly.

“You want to write my eulogy for me?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Buck sighs, “Yeah, I know. I was joking… mostly. And, you’re already helping—you being here helps, and,” he pauses, taking a deep breath and shuffling closer to Eddie until every available inch of them is pressed together. “This is good, too.”

Buck’s hand twitches and he murmurs something under his breath, hesitating for another second before he moves, inching his hand closer and closer to Eddie’s own until they’re overlapping. Eddie turns his hand over, lacing his fingers between Buck’s.

“Okay,” Eddie nods. “Then we’ll stay here. Long as you need.”

Buck leans even further into him, tucking his face into Eddie’s shoulder, and taking purposeful deep breaths.

Eddie’s heart stutters slightly, and he valiantly ignores it. This isn’t about him, this is about comforting Buck. He’s a grown adult, he’s held people’s hands plenty of times, and—even if none of those times had felt anything like this—he could keep it together, he has to.

-------------------------------

In the end, they only end up staying in the bedroom for ten more minutes before heading back downstairs.

The living room is cleaner than the last time Eddie saw it; clearly either Maddie or Chimney spent some time tidying up in the last half hour.

The room is quiet, almost uncomfortably so, though Jee-Yun seems blissfully unaware of the underlying tension surrounding her. She's sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, focusing intently on drawing a stick figure that bears a passing resemblance to Chimney.

Maddie and Chimney are sitting on the couch behind her, slumped against each other in clear exhaustion. Maddie keeps looking across the room at her dad, her brow furrowed.

Her father, for his part, seems to be completely checked out. He's staring at the space in front of him with an almost blank look in his eyes.

Eddie hasn’t seen Phillip many times before, he’s not someone he’s ever had the desire to spend time around, but even he can tell that the man is in bad shape. And, despite the well-founded hatred Eddie has for him, he still feels a pang of pity at the sight of him—at the empty, haunted look in his eyes. Eddie tears his gaze away. It feels invasive, observing the grief of a man he barely knows.

Besides, they didn’t come downstairs to loiter silently in the back of the living room. They have errands to run. He shakes his head, refocusing, and follows Buck into the kitchen.

Buck gets to work immediately, moving through the kitchen with an old familiarity as he takes stock of what food his father still has. He’s in the middle of going through the fridge drawers, when Maddie walks into the room.

“Hey,” she greets. “How are you feeling?”

Buck turns around slightly, looking over his shoulder at Maddie. “About the same. Maybe a little less gross now that I’ve showered the airport smell off. You?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “The same.”

“Eddie and I were thinking of doing a grocery run before dinner. Is there anything else we need to do today?”

“Not today, we have a couple of appointments tomorrow though.”

Buck nods. “And, dad… how’s he doing?”

“Dad is…” she takes a deep breath before she continues, lowering her voice till it’s almost a whisper. “He's barely talking. I got him to engage with Jee a bit, but I don't know, he seems almost… frozen. It's like he's operating on a constant delay.”

“I can stay—do you want me to stay? I don't have to go to the grocery store today, we can find something to order in.”

Maddie looks past him at the nearly barren fridge. She squints for a second, like she’s trying to make more food appear through sheer willpower.

“No, you should definitely go to the store, tomorrow's going to be a long day and we'll need stuff for breakfast in the morning anyway. Besides, Jee loves your cooking, and I'm sure a home-cooked meal would be good for everyone right now.”

“Do you have any requests for dinner?” Buck closes the fridge, crossing the kitchen to lean against the counter next to Maddie.

She hums for a second, deliberating. “Pasta? With that chicken you made last time? Jee loved that.”

“Pasta it is. Chim,” he calls, raising his voice and walking toward the living room. “Where’d you put the car keys?”

-------------------------------

Buck is lingering in the breakfast section of the grocery store, his hands drumming against the handle of the cart anxiously. His eyes keep flitting around the aisle, refusing to focus on anything for longer than a couple of seconds.

“We should get stuff for pancakes too, right?” The question is clearly redundant, Buck has already thrown the mix into the cart. “And eggs? Chimney usually likes eggs in the mornings.” Buck nods to himself, redirecting the cart toward the refrigerated section.

“We’re getting bacon too,” Eddie adds, following after Buck.

“Obviously.”

They’ve been at the store for less than ten minutes and the cart is already filling rapidly. They usually made lists before they went grocery shopping, or they tended to end up like this: buying way more things than they actually needed. But, considering how empty the fridge at the house had been, maybe an overflowing cart was the right move this time.

Buck is in the middle of inspecting a carton of eggs when someone pulls their cart up beside them.

“Evan?”

Eddie turns, slightly surprised at the interruption. There’s an older woman standing in front of them, leaning forward slightly like she’s trying to get a better look at Buck.

“Mrs. Baxter, hi,” Buck greets, and Eddie relaxes slightly. Eddie has seen what Buck looks like when he wants to avoid a conversation, and he doesn’t look anything like that now. He seems happy to see the woman, well, as happy as he can look given the circumstances.

“It is you.” She has a warm, bright smile on her face, like running into Buck at the grocery store was the highlight of her week. “I don’t think I would’ve recognized you if it weren’t for that birthmark of yours. How are you? How’s Maddie?”

“We’re both in LA now actually.”

“Really? And that man…”

“She, uh, she left Doug.”

“Good for her,” she says, her voice quiet and sincere. “And you?”

“I’m a firefighter now.” He stands up straighter when he says it, pride practically radiating off of him.

“Helping people,” she hums lightly. “Yeah, you’ve always been good at that. And,” she turns slightly, tilting her head toward Eddie. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Eddie,” he reaches forward to shake her hand. “I’m Buck’s—”

“He’s my partner.” Buck is still standing tall, looking just as proud as he did when he mentioned being a firefighter.

Their conversation is interrupted by a burst of music, some sunshiney pop song that Eddie remembers hearing on the radio a few years back. Mrs. Baxter reaches into her purse to grab her phone, accepting the call near instantly when she sees the caller ID.

“Hi, dear. I know. I’m still at the store, actually, you’ll never believe…” She trails off, nodding to herself as she listens to whoever’s on the other end of the phone. “Yes, of course.” She readjusts the bag on her shoulder, humming in response to something. “Okay. Love you too. I’ll be there soon.”

She hangs up the phone and returns her focus to Buck. “Sorry about that, it appears I lost track of time again,” she says. “It was good to see you, Evan. And Eddie,” she turns her gaze to him, still smiling just as brightly. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Eddie echoes.

She takes a small step forward, hesitating for a second before Buck pulls her into a hug.

“Always good to see you, Mrs. Baxter,” Buck says as he pulls back. “Tell Evelyn hi for me.”

“Of course, she’ll be upset that she missed you.” She frowns down at her phone. “Okay. I really do have to go now. Stop by if you have time, okay?” She waves goodbye and turns to make her way to the checkout.

“We should probably get going too,” Buck says, grabbing a carton of eggs at random, and turning to walk back toward the front of the store.

They don’t make it very far before Buck stops again, backing up the cart and taking a sharp turn into the snack aisle. He walks halfway down the aisle before he stops, taking a few seconds to scan the shelves before he reaches out and starts dumping candy bars into the cart.

“I didn’t know you liked…” Eddie reaches down, grabbing one of the candies to read the packaging. “Mallo Cups so much.”

“I don’t—well, I do like them, they’re good. They’re for Maddie though. These were her favorite growing up.” He grabs two more from the shelf, tossing them into the cart. “Okay, that should be everything.”

There’s no line when they reach the registers, and—after they have scanned and paid for their pile of groceries—they’re on the move again, making their way back to the rental car.

“So,” Eddie steps past Buck, moving to open the trunk. “How do you know Mrs. Baxter? Old neighbors?”

“She worked at the library by our house actually. Probably still does.” He lifts a couple of the bags, packing them into the car.

“Of course you were best friends with your town librarian,” Eddie says, his voice teasing and fond.

Buck smiles. “She was always really nice to me, and… I liked the library, it was calmer than our house. Plus, my parents were always weird whenever they would find me reading, so I ended up spending a decent amount of time there.”

“Your parents didn’t like you reading?”

“They just… I always swore that they actively avoided me anytime I had a book out: if I was reading in the living room they found a way to spend time in the backyard, if I was reading in the dining room, my mother would abandon whatever she was cooking and order take out instead. So, I usually kept to my room or the library.”

“That’s…” Somehow the Buckley parents have rendered him speechless for the second time today.

“Yeah, I know. I actually asked Maddie about it last year: apparently Daniel was a big reader, especially after he got sick, it gave him something to do when he was too tired to get out of bed.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Buck’s face twists into something between a frown and wince. “Guess it reminded them too much of Daniel.” He shrugs and grabs the top of the trunk, slamming it closed.

------------------------------

Eddie is leaning against the counter, watching Buck as he moves around the kitchen. It’s a familiar routine, and despite how horrible the last few days have been, Eddie still finds the familiarity comforting. It seems like Buck does too, he looks to be less stressed than he was earlier in the day.

Eddie is mostly zoned out at this point, going back and forth between responding to messages in the 118 group chat and staring at Buck’s arms as he chops the broccoli for the pasta.

He’s considering making himself at least partly useful, (he’s gotten pretty good at making the lemon-garlic sauce that Buck had been planning on preparing) when his phone starts ringing.

He tears his gaze away from Buck, looking down at his phone.

“It's Chris,” Eddie says, tone slightly guilty. He'd rather not abandon Buck ten feet away from his father on their very first night in town.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving Buck with his father period; Phillip Buckley may be grieving, but that didn’t mean Eddie liked him or trusted him around Buck.

But Chris was calling, and there was nothing in the world that could get him to ignore a call from his son. Besides, Maddie and Chim were right in the other room, Buck had backup if he needed it.

He would normally have no problem accepting the call with Buck in the room, but he had promised himself that the next time Chris called he would tell him—he would come out to him. He's ready. He just needs some privacy and some courage.

“Eddie,” Buck has paused his cooking, turning around to face him. “Take the call, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Jee can keep me company.”

Eddie nods, squeezing Buck’s arm as he walks by. He speed walks through the living room, and makes his way up the stairs, beelining for Buck’s old bedroom before accepting the call. It takes a few seconds for the video to load, and Eddie smiles as his son's face fills the screen.

“How's Buck?” Chris asks, impatient as always.

“Hi, Chris, how are you?”

“Dad.”

“Buck is… he’s not doing the greatest right now, and his dad…”

“Buck doesn't talk about his parents that much.”

“Yeah, mijo, it's… they have a complicated relationship.” He’ll let Buck decide how much of his childhood he shares with Chris.

“Where are you right now?” Chris moves closer to the camera, his eyes flitting around the screen as he tries to take everything in.

“Buck’s old bedroom.”

Eddie flips the camera around, letting Chris see more of the room.

“Why does he have so many skateboards?”

“I guess he liked skateboarding.” He hasn’t had any time to tease Buck for his decor choices yet, but he’s sure Chris will as soon as he gets the chance.

Chris hums. “I guess… still, seems excessive.”

Eddie laughs, it’s a fair assessment, Buck did have a lot of skateboards. He continues moving the camera over Buck’s room, letting his son pick apart teenage Buck’s interior design choices for a couple of minutes before he flips the camera around again.

“How's your week been?”

It hasn't been very long since the last time they talked, but Chris always manages to find something to update him on, and today is no exception; he starts talking immediately, filling Eddie in on everything he can think of.

Usually, asking Chris about his week is enough to get him talking for at least a half hour, but today he only ends up talking for a few minutes before he begins to trail off, looking at Eddie curiously. “Is something wrong? You seem kind of… stressed out?”

Shit. He's never been great at masking his expressions. He feels caught out, even if he wasn't really hiding anything.

“No, mijo, I'm okay. I promise. Just,” he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Chris sighs, “What did you do?”

“Do you remember May and Harry’s dad—Michael?”

“Duh, dad,” it's only two words, but he somehow still managed to stretch them out, clear exasperation bleeding into his tone.

“Alright, alright… well, you remember how he got remarried?” Chris nods, his annoyance fading to the background as he seems to sense the more serious tone. “Right, and even though he’s gay, and even though he and Athena got a divorce, it didn’t mean that they didn’t love each other, just that the love they had for each other was a different kind of love.”

“Yeah, dad, I know how friendship works,” he says, packing every ounce of teenage sass into the short statement as possible.

“Right,” he pauses, trying to figure out how to properly segue into what he really wants to say. “Well I—I wanted to tell you something, and I wanted you to know that what I'm saying doesn't mean that I didn't love your mother very much, even if… even if that love was platonic.” Chris nods at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “So…” Eddie drums his fingers over the back of the phone, mentally hyping himself up. “I'm gay.”

Chris pauses for a few seconds, processing the statement. “So, you and mom…”

“I loved your mother very much. But, I loved her like a friend, and I'm so glad we were together, because we had you and—”

“Dad,” Chris cuts him off, sounding exasperated again. “I know you love me, you tell me every day.” Right. Well, fair enough. “So… you're gay.” Eddie nods. “Okay,” Chris hums. “Does abuela know? Or abuelo?”

Eddie isn't really afraid of how his parents will react, despite how fraught his relationship with them had become, they had never been unaccepting when it came to things like this. He just didn't have the energy to tell them right now, regular conversations with them were already exhausting enough.

“I haven't told them yet, if—”

“Okay. I won't say anything,” Chris nods again, decisive. “So, you're gonna be dating guys now?”

“I—only if you're okay with it, Chris. I'm not doing anything again without your—”

“I'm not gonna make you stay single for the rest of your life, dad,” he scoffs. “But, if you’re gonna be bringing them around a lot, I want to meet them before you… start dating or whatever.”

“Of course, but… I don't think there’ll be anyone new for you to meet? At least I really hope not.”

Chris pauses, squinting at Eddie through the phone like he’s trying to figure him out.

“I’ve already met him.” Eddie nods. “Oh,” Chris’ eyes widen. “You want to date Buck.”

“I—” Eddie hadn't been planning on having this part of the conversation today; he should've quit while he was ahead, instead of talking himself into a corner. He sighs, he already came out to Chris, might as well rip the band-aid off on this too. “Yeah, I do. Would that be okay? Well, he would have to say yes. But, if he did… say yes—would you be okay with that?”

“He’s obviously gonna say yes, dad,” he sounds exasperated again, like he thinks Eddie is being unfathomably dumb. “You’re sure about Buck? You’re not gonna start dating and break up like a month later?”

Eddie’s gut instinct is to protest the very notion of him and Buck ever breaking up, he can’t even bring himself to imagine it. But, he knows it’s a fair question. People break up all the time, and Chris has been witness to multiple of his failed relationships already. So, of course he’s worried about losing one of the most important people in his life.

“Well, it’s hard to say anything with 100% certainty, but I want it to last, and even if—for some reason—it doesn’t work out, it won’t change anything with you and Buck, he’ll always be there for you.” Eddie might doubt a lot of things in life, but Buck’s dedication to Chris was never one of them.

Chris nods, seemingly appeased with the answer.

“Would Buck move in with us?” Eddie blinks, slightly caught off guard. The question shouldn’t be surprising, of course Chris would want to know what to expect.

“I mean… if he wanted to and if you were okay with it… then ideally, yes, Buck would move in with us. But, only after you're ready, if you're ever ready.”

Chris sighs again. “Buck can move in. He already spends most of his time at the house anyway
and… I like Buck. Besides, if he moves in he’ll do the cooking right?”

“Hey,” Eddie complains. “I'm an okay cook now.”

“Yeah,” Chris concedes. “You've gotten pretty good; Buck’s still better though.” Fair enough. “So?” Chris asks, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Eddie smiles helplessly, Chris had always been so determined.

“I’m sure Buck will cook for you. In fact, he finally perfected Bobby’s lasagna recipe last week. He wanted to have it just right for when you got back.”

Chris beams at that, “Yeah?”

“Of course, you know he’ll make you whatever you want. You’ve had him wrapped around your finger for years, kid.”

“Yeah,” Chris ducks his head, still smiling. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You can date Buck.”

“The food was the main selling point, huh?”

“Well, it certainly didn’t hurt.” Chris laughs, amused at himself. “But, I was already sold, it’s Buck.” Right. Well. Eddie clears his throat, trying to push the burning sensation back down. “And dad?” Eddie hums. “I’m proud of you.”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t get any words to come out. He’s completely and totally overwhelmed, in the best possible way, and he’s afraid that if he says anything right now he’ll start crying. He really doesn’t want to go back downstairs with red-rimmed eyes. Buck has enough on his plate right now, he doesn’t need to be worried about Eddie on top of everything else.

It’s clear that Chris takes his silence as a bad sign, because his eyes get wide—the way they always do when he’s panicking—and he hurries to speak again. “That’s what you're supposed to say isn’t it? When someone comes out? That’s what they did on that TV show we watched last year.”

“Yeah,” Eddie clears his throat again, there’s no way his eyes aren’t watering right now. “I—that was good. Thank you, mijo.” Chris breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Eddie.

“Can I say hi to Buck now?”

Buck is almost done cooking when Eddie gets back downstairs, and Jee is sitting on the counter next to him, kicking her feet and watching Buck as he stirs the pasta sauce.

“Hey,” Buck turns. “How was—Chris!” He reaches for Eddie’s phone, waving his hands insistently until Eddie passes it to him.

“Hey bud,” Buck greets, smiling at the phone as he props it up. “How’s Texas?”

Eddie leans back against the counter to watch his son and his… and Buck as they catch up. He smiles, letting himself enjoy the brief reprieve.

He’s never been to a Buckley family dinner before, but based on everything he's heard from Buck and Chimney, he has a feeling the current calm won’t last for much longer.

Chapter Text

Buck hasn't had very many good family dinners in his life, usually if the night didn't end with someone crying or storming out he took it as a win.

So far tonight's dinner had been, well… not good, but it was less explosive than usual: no one was yelling or making any underhanded comments. So, all things considered, it could be going a lot worse.

Although, despite the current lack of fighting, it's still been one of the more tense dinners that Buck has had with his family.

The weight of his mother's absence is hanging over the dinner table like a knife, and Buck finds himself filling in for her in his head: guessing the comments she would make, the exact points in conversation in which she would sigh in disappointment or furrow her brow in barely contained annoyance.

The unfortunate truth of the matter is that dinner would probably be going worse if his mother was here. It’s a thought that makes him feel almost immediately guilty, no matter how true it may be.

Neither of his parents were easy to get along with, but they had fed off of each other, supported one another in their snide comments and back-handed remarks.

So, though his dad is often no better than his mom, he has been less inflammatory without her by his side. But, that could have just as much to do with his grief as anything else. It's hard to tell when the two are so intertwined: the absence of his partner and the grief of that absence.

Chimney is currently talking to Philip about some classic movie that Buck has definitely never seen before, but he's sure it's one that Chimney has tried to get him to watch a dozen times.

His father isn't providing much commentary, but he does seem more alert than he was earlier—his eyes don't have that same glazed over look as they did when they first got here.

Buck is having a harder time paying attention than he usually does, and he’s starting to feel a bit like he’s losing his mind. It’s such an exceedingly normal conversation to be having that it almost feels wrong—that if someone were to hear them talking without context they would probably assume that it was just an average day for them. But this isn’t any other day, his mother is dead. His mother is dead and they’re sitting at the table discussing pop culture.

But, despite how weird the conversation makes him feel, he doesn't blame them for clinging to whatever sense of normalcy they can find, he doesn't know what to say either. Buck has barely said a word all of dinner, so far he's gotten away with making vague noises of agreement or nodding along with whoever's talking.

He feels like he should say something to his dad, but he can't think of a single topic of conversation, it’s like his brain has gone completely blank. If he asks what his father has been up to lately, every story will likely involve his mother. They're going to have to talk about her eventually—it's kind of hard to plan a funeral without mentioning the guest of honor—but, Buck isn't going to be the first one to broach the subject, especially not in front of everyone at the dinner table; he doesn't know how his father will react, and he doesn't want Jee to be in the room if things do end up going south.

Buck's never been good at making small talk with his dad. Almost every time he tries, his father seems to end up either bored or annoyed. He doesn’t feel the bond you’re supposed to feel with a parent, the one he’s seen in relationships all around him, the one he sees on TV and in movies. His relationship with Bobby feels far closer to a parental bond than anything he's ever experienced with his father.

Interacting with his dad feels like trying to plug in a broken appliance, like the closest his efforts will ever get him is a distant, awkward politeness at best. And, he knows his dad feels it too, the way he almost cringes when they hug, the way he never asks Buck any questions that go deeper than ‘how are you?’ or ‘what's new at work?’.

Buck is still rifling through potential conversation topics in his head, when he darts his gaze to his dad and startles. Phillip is already looking at him, eyebrows raised like he's waiting for Buck's response to something, something that Buck clearly didn't hear.

“Uh, sorry,” Buck leans forward, trying to focus. “What did you say?”

“This is good.” His father gives a flinch of a smile. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

It’s meant to be a nice statement, Buck knows his father is trying to be nice. But, he’s cooked for his dad before. The last time his parents had visited he had made them mushroom risotto, and spent at least ten minutes talking about how Bobby had been teaching him to cook over the years. So, unless his father had managed to tune out the entirety of a ten minute conversation (which, knowing his dad, was possible), he should already know that Buck can cook.

He bites his tongue. “Thanks.”

“How’s that man…” his father trails off, like he’s waiting for Buck to fill in the blank he’s left, but Buck has absolutely no clue what his dad is talking about, he knows a lot of men. His dad sighs, as if he's frustrated that Buck can't read his mind. “The one you brought to your sister’s last wedding.”

Oh, that man.

“Oh, uh, we broke up.”

His father nods easily, like he doesn’t find the news all that surprising. “Well, that’s too bad, he seemed nice, mature.”

Eddie scoffs, putting his fork down and shooting an incredulous look at Phillip.

“We weren't right for each other,” Buck says. It's an oversimplified version, but he doesn't want to go into everything right now and he doubts his father would care anyways.

“Ah,” he nods again. “Well, you were always more the type to date around anyways.” He says it with a placating smile, like he's trying to reassure Buck, like he thinks he's being kind. Buck misses what dinner was like a couple of minutes ago when his father wasn’t trying to talk to him.

“Dad, that’s hardly fair,” Maddie interjects.

“What?” His dad looks genuinely confused. “I didn't mean anything by it. You know—”

“Dad, c’mon—” Maddie's voice is pleading.

The comment shouldn’t get to him, it’s right on par with what his parents usually say. In fact, if anything it's actually more tame than what he's used to. But, it's been a long week, and he's always had a hard time keeping his emotions in check when it comes to his parents.

His nerves are starting to feel like live wires and, whether or not he had been trying to, his dad had struck a chord. Because, despite how much Buck wanted a long-term relationship, he still hadn’t had one—at least not in the way he had always longed for. His father’s words were just another harsh reminder of that fact.

He takes a calming breath, and pushes his frustration down.

“It's fine, guys,” Buck says, his hands raised in front of him, like he's talking down a patient on a call.

It's not fine, but he's used to it. Besides, he really doesn't have the energy to do this right now. He doesn't want to fight with his father. And, more importantly, he doesn't want Jee to see him or her grandfather acting like that.

Eddie’s chair squeaks as he scoots it across the dining room tile, shuffling to the right until his leg is pressing against Buck’s.

“Hey,” Chimney turns toward Phillip, his eyes wide. “Did I tell you we're thinking about signing Jee up for soccer? Her friend joined and…”

It’s the least subtle segue in the world, but it works, his father's attention snaps back to Chimney, immediately invested in the conversation when he hears Jee’s name. Buck gives Chimney a grateful smile and leans back in his seat.

Jee is nodding along to the story, interjecting every once in a while to add a comment or two of her own. Her moods have been a bit unpredictable this last week: at times, she looks just as grief-stricken as everyone around her—eyes wide and lips trembling like she's seconds away from bursting into tears—but, other times she just looks more confused than anything, like she’s still processing what the loss of her grandmother actually means.

Today is no different: her mood has been fluctuating for the entirety of dinner. When she’s distracted by the food or her grandpa, she almost seems like her usual self. But, the longer that dinner has gone on, the more her focus has zeroed in on the empty chair next to her grandfather. She keeps turning her head to look at it, her expression growing more and more distressed every time she finds it empty.

Chimney bringing up soccer successfully recaptured her attention; she’s engaged in the conversation again, devoting the entirety of her energy into discussing everything she’s learned about soccer in the past couple weeks (which is, evidently, a lot of information).

They eventually move on, finding a new topic to pass the time with. Buck tries to keep up with the conversation (his mom had always hated when he zoned out), but no matter how much he wants to focus, he can’t seem to get his mind to behave.

It’s clear that his distraction has not gone unnoticed, as Eddie has begun shooting him increasingly concerned looks.

It’s not hard to figure out why, Buck knows this is uncharacteristic for him, even if he’s been quieter than usual the last few days. Group dinners had always been one of his favorite things… well, dinners with the Diaz boys or Maddie and Chim or with the 118. But, when it came to his parents, it was something else entirely.

Eddie has never seen him at a Buckley family dinner before, especially not one where he’s repeatedly biting his tongue to avoid any hint of conflict.

He looks away from Eddie, trying to school his face into something more composed. Even Maddie is looking at him now, her expression mirroring the concern displayed on Eddie’s face. He doesn’t want them to be worried about him right now, there are far more important issues to deal with than a few thoughtless comments from their father.

He takes another deep breath and tries to tune back into the conversation, to appear as unaffected by his father's words as possible.

Chimney is working overtime to keep the conversation going. He's currently in the middle of telling Phillip about the factory fire they were called to last week.

Phillip, who could usually care less about the details of Buck's job, is nodding along attentively. Though, any form of conversation is probably a welcome reprieve for his father, who has spent the last few days alone with his thoughts in an empty house.

Buck pushes down the things he actually wants to say to his dad, and joins Chimney in recounting the relatively-average-fire from last week. At least it's something neutral to talk about. And, it would probably look weird if he didn't contribute to a conversation about his own job anyways.

They only end up talking for a few more minutes before his dad stands up from the table to carry his dishes to the sink. Despite his compliments on the meal, there is still a fair amount of food left on his plate. The sight makes Buck feel a pang of sympathy, it reminds him of how he was when Eddie was in the hospital—so grief-stricken that even eating felt like a chore.

There’s a part of him that wants to comfort his dad, despite his anger at him, but he doesn’t know how to. Phillip has never been the type of person who likes to talk about his feelings, and Buck isn’t about to make the night even worse than it’s already been, just so he can make a failed attempt to get his father to open up to him.

His dad walks back to the dining room, taking a second to awkwardly shuffle his feet, before clearing his throat.

“I'm going to head to bed. I'll see you all in the morning.” He takes a step closer to the table and bends over slightly to pull Jee-Yun into a hug. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Buck has never seen his dad go to bed before 11 p.m. before, but he's also never seen him get up from a meal without practically licking his plate clean. So, although the change is jarring, it's not exactly surprising, it's just another item on the long list of ways that grief has already changed his father.

Dinner doesn't last for much longer after his dad leaves. His departure is quickly followed by Maddie and Chim, who head upstairs to get Jee ready for bed. It's earlier than her usual bedtime, but she looked like she was five seconds away from falling asleep at the table, and she probably needs all the rest she can get after these last few days.

It’s just him and Eddie at the table now, and even though Buck is far more relaxed with his father out of the room, he's still more on edge than usual. He's actively avoiding eye contact, keeping his gaze trained on the table.

He runs his finger over a scratch in the wood, trying to remember how it got there. But, like so many of his childhood memories, he can't seem to recall the details.

He's still trying to remember what exactly happened, when Eddie leans forward, forcing his way into Buck's line of sight. He starts to clear his throat, on the verge of speaking, and Buck jolts up from the table, piling the remaining dishes in his arms and practically fleeing to the kitchen.

Eddie, of course, follows him. He wasn't expecting anything else. But, if they're going to have this conversation, he'd rather do it while he has something to distract him—he needs something to do with his hands, needs to feel in control of at least one thing.

They stand in silence for a few minutes, Buck washing the dishes before handing them off to Eddie to dry. It’s a meditative task, something so familiar that it takes almost no focus to complete. They’re halfway through the pile of dishes, when Eddie sucks in a breath.

“You know that nothing he said was true, right?”

“I’m not a good cook?” Buck asks. Eddie doesn’t answer him, refusing to entertain Buck’s attempt at deflecting the conversation. Buck sighs. “Maybe not in the way he meant it, but he's not totally wrong, right? I have dated around, I'm in my thirties and I still haven’t managed to have a single successful long-term relationship,” he sighs again, he feels ridiculous for even having this conversation right now, riled up by an offhand comment his dad made. His dating habits are so far from his number one concern at the moment. “At this point, I don't know, maybe I'm not meant to—”

“No!” Eddie drops the plate he's drying, wincing as it clatters against the tile. He turns to face Buck, eyes wide, like he’s personally offended at the idea of Buck ending up alone. “Fine,” Eddie says, his tone somehow both soft and scolding. “Your relationships haven’t worked out in the past, but maybe the people you've dated before just weren't right for you, that doesn't mean that no one's right for you.”

“Eddie—”

“I just… you're never going to end up alone, Buck. You have the 118,” he steps somehow closer, voice lowered. “You have me, you have Chris.”

“Yeah, but that's different, you don't… you're not…”

Buck can't bring himself to say the actual words, it feels wrong somehow, even though he knows they aren't dating, even though he knows Eddie is probably straight. The idea of saying that out loud somehow seems too final, it feels like pressing on a wound that hasn't healed yet—that will probably never heal.

Eddie is still looking at him, biting his lip. “Buck, I—”

“Hey,” Maddie is leaning against the doorway, covering a yawn with the back of her hand. “You guys need any help cleaning up?”

“No, we’re almost done,” Eddie says, his eyes darting back to Buck.

There's a strange expression on his face, something that Buck can't quite place. Buck is usually able to read him, he prides himself on it, but he has no clue what Eddie's thinking right now. He looks almost frustrated, but there's something else there too, something that Buck can't figure out.

“Jee asleep?” Eddie asks, interrupting Buck's train of thought, and returning his focus to Maddie.

“Yeah,” Maddie pushes off the doorway, running a hand through her hair. “She passed out halfway through her bedtime story, I think the early morning and the flight really wore her out.” She turns slightly, glancing over her shoulder as Chimney makes his way into the kitchen. “I can't remember the last time I saw her so exhausted.”

“Out like a light,” Chim confirms.

Buck nods, glad that the stress from the last few days hasn't hindered Jee’s ability to sleep.

“Good, she needs the rest,” Eddie says.

“Oh, hey,” Buck crosses the kitchen, opening the cupboard and pulling out a handful of the Mallo Cups he had stashed away earlier. “We got you something.”

He tosses a pack to Maddie and watches as she fumbles slightly before recognizing the packaging.

“You remembered.” She's smiling warmly—the happiest she’s looked all day. And, despite his overwhelming exhaustion, Buck can’t help but smile back at her.

“Of course I remembered, you were addicted to these,” he laughs, turning to face Chimney. “We used to alternate taking out the trash when we were kids, and one week I went to take her trash out, and the entire thing was filled with Mallo Cup wrappers.”

“I had a big test to study for,” Maddie counters.

“Right,” Buck nods. “Chocolate and marshmallow: famous brain foods.”

“Exactly.”

Chimney is grinning at her, the same smitten look on his face that he usually has when he’s looking at Maddie.

“Guess you've always had a sweet tooth, huh?” Chim says, smiling fondly.

“It must run in the family,” Eddie adds, tilting his head at Buck.

The idea of Eddie accusing Buck of having a sweet tooth is almost laughable, when Eddie has the biggest sweet tooth out of everyone Buck knows. And, from the teasing smile on Eddie's face, he's well aware of that.

There's a brief lull in the conversation, and Buck takes a step toward the door, ready to retreat upstairs and finally go to sleep.

“Right, well…” Buck brushes his hands together, shaking off imaginary dirt. “I guess we'll see you—”

“Wait,” Maddie says, chewing on her lip and darting her eyes around the room. “Do you guys want to watch a movie?” She pauses for a second, barely waiting for an answer before continuing. “It's still pretty early and I could use the distraction.”

Maddie likes to be around people when she’s sad. Buck thinks she finds it comforting—the reminder that she's not alone. It had been different when they were kids, she would retreat into her room on bad days, refusing to talk to anyone.

For a while, Buck had thought that maybe he had done something to make her not want to confide in him, but now that he's older he knows it wasn't that. Maddie had spent a long time keeping things inside, trying to not burden the people around her, trying to help everyone else while keeping her pain to herself.

It makes him all the more proud that she allows herself that comfort now, that she lets people help her in a way she never used to.

But, Buck doesn't think this is about Maddie not wanting to be alone, not this time. He can see the look on her face, her patented “worried about Buck” look, something he's been familiar with since he was a kid. That look alone is enough to convince Buck to agree to a movie night.

“I could go for a movie,” Eddie says.

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs. “Yeah, why not? I'll make the popcorn, you guys can cue something up.”

Maddie lets out a sigh of relief, nodding eagerly.

------------------------------

They're about an hour into the movie, and Buck still hasn't been able to figure out the plot. Then again, he's barely been paying attention—too busy falling further and further into his own spiraling thoughts.

But, still, he's grateful for the movie. It's nice background noise, and it's a welcome excuse to avoid conversation. He's sure that Maddie wants to talk about dinner—about the comments their dad made—but she's letting it be for now, and Buck is immensely grateful for that.

He doesn't want to talk about dinner right now, his brief conversation with Eddie was more than enough for the night, and he doesn't want Maddie to worry about him anymore than she already has been.

Luckily, they’ve spent most of the movie in silence so far. He doesn't know what movie Chimney ended up picking, but he recognizes a few of the actors, and the plot feels vaguely familiar.

They're all squeezed onto the couch. It's a bit of a tight fit, but it's manageable, and it's the only piece of furniture in the living room actually facing the TV.

Eddie is leaning into Buck’s side. They've gotten closer and closer throughout the movie. And, it's at the point where if they get any closer, they’ll practically be tangled together.

It's nothing new, they've always been pretty physically affectionate, and that's only increased as of late. But, when it came to stuff like this it was typically in private, something just for them. Buck didn't want to share it, to hear the teasing comments from the team, as well-meaning as they were.

So, though the physical affection is par for the course at this point, sitting next to Chim and Maddie makes him hyper aware of it. And, for good reason too: Maddie keeps glancing over at them, her eyes darting between Buck and Eddie pointedly.

She hasn’t commented on it, but Buck can tell she wants to: every once in a while she’ll look over and lean forward, like she’s about to say something, but then she'll bite her lip and dart her gaze away again.

She’s probably waiting for Buck to say something to her first, but that’s not going to happen. There’s nothing to tell. Nothing’s changed. Buck casts his eyes around the room and inhales shakily, trying to avoid spiraling into that inescapable train of thought.

Maddie glances over at them again and Buck smiles weakly, shaking his head at her. She looks disbelieving, but she shrugs, turning back to watch the movie and seemingly letting it go for now.

Buck sighs, leaning further into Eddie and closing his eyes. His brain is still going 100 miles an hour: rapidly rotating between trying to figure out writing a eulogy for his mom, the comments his dad made at dinner, and the expression on Eddie’s face when Maddie interrupted their conversation.

He inhales shakily, frustrated at his inability to solve anything. His mind is far too exhausted, and even when he can bring himself to focus, nothing productive comes out of it.

He knows he's supposed to be relaxing right now—that was half the point of having a movie night to start with—but he can't help it. No matter what he tries, nothing seems to quiet his mind completely. His own thoughts feel out of his control (something that only stresses him out even more).

But, despite his racing thoughts, he can feel himself slumping further and further into the couch, caught between complete exhaustion and his rising anxiety. It doesn't take long for his exhaustion to win the fight.

------------------------------

The movie has ended by the time Buck wakes from his unintentional nap. Maddie and Eddie are in the middle of a conversation, talking quietly. He can’t make out what they’re saying at first, their voices are too low and Buck is still halfway asleep, struggling to concentrate on the waking world.

He manages to avoid fully waking up for a few more minutes before he finally starts blinking his eyes open. Buck pushes against the couch, moving so he's sitting more upright and glancing around the room.

Maddie and Chim are in the process of standing up and gathering their things to head upstairs. They turn their heads to look back at the couch when Buck starts leaning forward, eyes drawn by his slow movements.

“Good morning,” Maddie greets. There's a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes are soft, concerned.

“Morning,” Buck mumbles. He lifts his hands up, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“We should do another movie night when we get back,” Chim says. “One we’re all awake for.”

Eddie nudges into Buck’s side, smiling when he catches his eye. He hasn't moved from his spot, still pressed completely against Buck, despite the other side of the couch being completely empty now.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, breaking eye contact with Buck and turning back to face Chim. “Maybe we could even convince Chris to join.”

Everyone brightens at that, the reminder of Chris’ return is a beacon of joy in an otherwise bleak day.

“Even better,” Chimney says. Eddie flashes a smile at him and Chimney turns to walk toward the stairs, throwing a wave over his shoulder.

“Goodnight guys,” Maddie says, leaning down to hug Buck, before turning to follow Chim.

“Oh,” she stops at the foot of the staircase, glancing over her shoulder. “Congrats on surviving your first Buckley family dinner.”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs, “Does it always go that well?”

“That was, unfortunately, one of the better family dinners that we’ve had,” Maddie replies.

Eddie's mouth pinches at that, but he doesn't comment any further. He just tilts his head in acknowledgement and watches as Maddie follows Chimney up the stairs.

Buck leans back again, letting himself burrow even closer to Eddie and fighting the urge to pass out on the couch. They stay in the living room for a few more minutes, leaning against one another in silence. It's nice having Eddie so close to him, he didn't know it was possible to be this comfortable.

Buck is just beginning to fall back asleep, when Eddie's voice interrupts him:

“Bed?”

Buck sighs, put out at the idea of walking all the way upstairs, but he nods anyway and lets Eddie pull him off the couch and up the stairs to the bedroom.

The house is mostly quiet now, and despite the fact that he ignored a majority of the movie, Buck finds himself missing the background noise. It wasn’t always the most successful distraction, but it was better than nothing.

He debates finding something to play on his phone to fill the silence, but he doesn't plan on being awake long enough for it to matter at this point, so it doesn’t take long for him to abandon that idea.

Buck changes and gets ready for bed on autopilot, barely aware of the room around him. He just wants to lay down before he somehow manages to fall asleep standing up.

It's only when he turns to get into bed that his brain seems to power back on.

“Right,” Buck is regretting not insisting on the cot earlier. Sharing the bed is going to be a lot harder than usual. It's barely big enough to fit one grown man, let alone two. “How do you wanna do this?”

Eddie gives a questioning hum, and Buck gestures impatiently to the bed.

“Oh, just… you can get in first and I'll…” Eddie shrugs. Which isn’t really an answer, but Buck is tired enough at this point to not particularly care.

He climbs into the bed and tries to scoot to the right side, but he isn’t really successful—there’s only a few inches of available space next to him, not nearly enough room to fit Eddie.

He looks at Eddie and raises an eyebrow, but Eddie still looks completely nonplussed. He walks over to the side of the bed, staring at the small space Buck left for a few seconds, before shrugging and lifting a leg onto the bed.

He glances down at Buck and smiles before swinging his other leg onto the bed, planting it between Buck’s legs and lowering himself onto the mattress, and—subsequently—Buck.

Buck jolts, he should’ve been expecting it, there was nowhere else for Eddie to go. But, somehow he's surprised anyways, and he can already feel his heartbeat picking up as the situation fully sinks in. He really should’ve asked his dad about finding a cot.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to go back to sleeping normally when they get back to LA. Eddie’s been laying on top of him for all of five seconds and he’s already addicted to the feeling.

“Buck,” Eddie starts, his voice muffled by the pillow. Buck hums. “About earlier, in the kitchen—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What?” Eddie draws back, propping himself up on his arm and leaning over Buck so he can see him properly.

“I just, I didn't mean to imply that you or Chris were somehow prioritized below romantic relationships for me… that just because you are I aren't,” he lifts his hand, gesturing to the small space between them. “That just because our relationship isn't… that it's not enough. Because it is. You have to know that you and Chris are pretty much,” he pauses, sucking in a breath. “You guys are everything to me.”

Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, he's being so painfully obvious. There's no way Eddie can't see right through him.

“It goes both ways, you know. You’ll always have us, no matter what.” Eddie's voice is firm, leaving no room for doubt.

Buck wants to respond, but he can already feel his throat burning, tears ready to spill at the simple reassurance. It’s been a long day, and he's finally reaching his breaking point: the combination of frustration and emotional exhaustion catching up to him.

“And… what you said about our relationship being—I've just, I've been meaning to tell you, and it's probably not the right time, but you said… you think you’re gonna end up alone, and I can't stand that—not ever—but especially not when I,” Eddie sucks in a nervous breath, finally looking back at Buck again. But, whatever expression is on Buck’s face seems to stop him in his tracks, his almost frantic rambling coming to a screeching halt. “Buck—”

“I'm just tired.” It's not a very convincing excuse, but at least there's a partial truth to it.

Eddie looks like he wants to say something else, but he stays quiet, eyes darting over Buck's face like he's assessing something. There's no way he believes Buck, but maybe he'll let it slide anyway; he's usually good at reading him, at knowing when Buck doesn't want to talk about something.

Eddie stares at him for a few more seconds, before he nods to himself, apparently having made a decision.

“We can finish talking about this later, you look like you're about to pass out.”

“No, I'm fine,” Buck tries to argue, but he's interrupted by a yawn, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him and Buck sighs. If he had any chance of continuing the conversation, it probably just went out the window with his inability to contain his rising exhaustion. He doesn't want to sleep, he wants—needs—to hear how Eddie was going to end that sentence.

“I'm not going anywhere, we can talk when you're not completely exhausted.”

He hates that Eddie is being reasonable right now; if it was any other week he would’ve let Buck finish the conversation, and part of him wants to fight back—to push until Eddie gives in and tells him what he was going to say. But, Eddie was right, Buck is exhausted, and this seems like far too important of a conversation to have while he's half asleep.

Eddie lowers himself back down, resting his head against Buck’s chest, before scooting further up until he can tuck his face against Buck’s neck, nosing against his pulse point and inhaling.

Buck feels his heart speed up. There's no way Eddie can't feel it, not with the way he's pressed his entire body against Buck. He inhales a shaky breath and Eddie presses even closer, moving a hand down to Buck’s waist and squeezing gently.

And, though he still feels like he's halfway to losing his mind, the weight of Eddie on top of him is a welcome comfort, and he can feel his breathing slowing down again.

Chapter Text

Eddie wakes up slowly, blinking in confusion at the unfamiliar room around him. Morning light is beginning to spill in through the window, and it takes him a few seconds to remember where he is.

He hasn’t moved very much since he fell asleep, but he managed to scoot down slightly, and his head is now resting against Buck’s chest. And, despite the fact that his feet are centimeters away from hanging off the edge of the bed, he can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable.

He fights the urge to burrow in closer to Buck and attempt to fall back asleep. He probably wouldn’t have much success anyway, he’s almost completely awake at this point—intensely aware of every inch of skin that’s pressed against Buck.

As often as they had shared a bed, they had never ended up this close before. Usually they both moved around more during the night, but it was hard to do that here, there was nowhere to move.

He can feel Buck breathing steadily beneath him, snoring lightly. If he had his way, every morning would start just like this. He takes a second to nuzzle in closer before propping himself up, hovering over Buck and sweeping his eyes across him.

Buck is still asleep, and Eddie smiles at the sight. It's nice to see him finally getting a bit more rest; Buck has been awake before him everyday recently.

He feels a wave of happiness rush over him, followed almost immediately by guilt. But, still, Eddie can't help it. He may be in Hershey for a funeral, but—overall—he's happier than he's been in months: he just came out to his son (his son who is finally coming back home soon) and he's laying in bed with the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. It’s hard not to be happy, even if that happiness is counterbalanced by a weird, secondhand grief.

He could probably be even happier, but that would require actually talking to Buck—something he still hasn't managed to do. He had been determined to wait till they got back home, and then yesterday had happened and Buck had seemed so defeated that Eddie had quickly given up on his original plan.

But, the moment had passed twice, and now he’s right back where he started, trying to determine if he should wait to say something or go all in as soon as possible.

Buck’s breathing stutters beneath him, speeding up slightly the way it usually does when he's waking up. Eddie props himself up higher, and sweeps his eyes across Buck’s face, watching as he slowly blinks into consciousness.

Buck's eyes widen slightly when he looks at Eddie, and—for a second—Eddie pauses too; he could roll off of Buck, and let the moment pass without comment, but he doesn't want to.

"This is nice," he says, his voice still rough from sleep. Buck gives a questioning hum, blinking blearily up at him. "This," Eddie gestures between them. "I always sleep better when I’m with you.”

It's honest, way more honest than he usually is, but Buck has been having the week from hell, so if there was ever a time for reassurance it was probably now.

“Oh.” Buck smiles, shyer than Eddie's ever seen him. “This is… yeah, me too.”

His hair is curly and sleep-rumpled and Eddie is unable to resist reaching down to run his fingers through it. Buck closes his eyes and makes a satisfied humming noise, leaning into the touch like a cat.

A few moments pass in silence before Buck clears his throat, “What time is it?”

Eddie sighs. He doesn't want to check the time, doesn't want to acknowledge that the world still exists outside of their bedroom.

He turns, grabbing his phone off the bedside table and unlocking it. “Just past seven.”

“I should get up,” Buck says, something regretful in his voice. “Jee never sleeps in, and breakfast is gonna take a bit.”

Eddie nods, but Buck doesn’t move. It takes longer than it probably should for him to realize that Buck can't move, not with Eddie laying on top of him

But, still, Eddie can't make himself get up. And, despite Buck saying that he should get out of bed, he doesn't seem like he's in any hurry either. In fact, he seems more relaxed than he's been in days. So, with neither of them trying to move and with Buck practically trapped beneath him, they're left at a bit of a stand still.

“Five more minutes?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, closing his eyes immediately, “Five more minutes.”

------------------------------

The bedroom is empty by the time Eddie finishes his shower. Buck has clearly already migrated to the kitchen, which isn't surprising, but Eddie's face still pulls into a frown anyways.

He changes quickly and makes his way downstairs, checking his text messages as he goes and taking a second to update Chris and the 118 group chat before he heads into the dining room.

“Hey, Eddie,” Chim greets. Or… attempts to greet: he's still halfway through chewing a bite of bacon and the words come out garbled and only half-intelligible. Luckily for Eddie, he has years of experience at deciphering Chimney’s half-mumbled sentences.

“Morning,” Eddie responds, shifting slightly so he can direct the greeting at the entirety of the table.

Phillip lifts his gaze to look at Eddie, giving a weak nod in greeting, before returning to pushing the food around his plate. Besides the fact that the circles under his eyes have darkened slightly, he doesn't look any better or worse than he did last night. Which is to say: he looks bad. Eddie shakes his head, tearing his gaze away from the other man before he notices him staring.

Maddie smiles at him, though the expression doesn't quite meet her eyes, and it was clearly more a reflex than anything—the quickest and least exhausting way to greet him.

“Hi Eddie,” Jee greets, her words smushing together as she finishes enthusiastically chewing a bite of pancake.

Eddie smiles at her, and spends a few more seconds glancing around the table, before he turns and heads into the kitchen, his eyes instantly scanning the small room for Buck.

It doesn't take long to find him: he’s facing the stove and pouring the last remains of pancake batter into a pan. He turns to look over his shoulder as Eddie walks into the kitchen, greeting him with a tired smile. The day has just started and he already looks so worn down.

“Here,” Buck slides a mug over to him as he makes his way across the kitchen. “Made you coffee.”

Eddie hums, grabbing the mug and sliding even closer to Buck. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, I—” Eddie presses closer again, tucking his chin over Buck’s shoulder. “Never mind.” Buck shakes his head, eyes wide. “How was your shower?”

It’s the kind of small talk they normally don’t do. But, this hasn’t been a normal week.

“Okay,” Eddie shrugs. “Your old shower is like, abnormally small, how did you even fit in there?”

“Not well,” Buck says, rolling his eyes and moving to flip the pancake.

“No, seriously.” He laughs and presses a smile into the back of Buck’s shirt. “I bet it’s like that scene in Elf.”

“I’m not that much taller than you, you know?”

Eddie shrugs. Of course he knows, he has eyes after all, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to tease Buck. He’s desperate to pry every smile from him that he can.

He pulls Buck closer for a second before stepping away to start cleaning the kitchen: moving the dirty dishes to the sink and wiping up a few splashes of pancake batter from the counter.

Buck turns off the stove, plating the final pancake and Eddie steps around him to get them plates from the cupboard, scooping food onto them and pulling Buck to the dining room with him.

“Finally,” Chimney ribs. “I thought we were gonna be done eating by the time you finally sat down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck plops into his seat without an ounce of grace. “Just eat your food.”

“How'd you sleep?” Maddie asks.

Buck ducks his head, the beginnings of a blush staining his cheeks. “Yeah, we—I slept alright.” He leans forward onto the table and starts cutting into his pile of pancakes.

“Your room still has the twin bed right?”

Buck's blush deepens. “It's, uh, it's bigger than I remembered actually,” he says, as if twin beds aren’t all the same size.

“Uh huh.” Maddie doesn't sound the least bit convinced.

Eddie thinks that maybe this will be the moment where Phillip realizes that he put two fully grown men in a twin size bed. But, when he tilts his head in the other man's direction, Phillip appears to be completely tuned out of the conversation: his eyes are glazed over and he’s staring into space. It's like he's not even in the room with them.

Eddie had never really seen much of a resemblance between Buck and his father, but he finally sees it now—in the way they wear their pain. And, for the second time this morning, Eddie has to force himself to tear his gaze away from Phillip.

Buck and Maddie seem to be having some kind of staring competition, which Eddie immediately elects to ignore in favor of downing the rest of his coffee and starting in on his pancakes.

A few minutes pass in relative silence, before Jee-Yun (clearly bored) pushes her plate toward the center of the table and coughs lightly—a childlike mimicry of someone clearing their throat.

“Can we go to the park now?” Jee asks, looking pointedly down at her empty plate.

“The one around the corner?” Buck asks.

Maddie nods, “She saw it when we drove in, asked if we could go last night.”

“Are you coming with us, Uncle Buck?”

Buck looks excited for a second, but it doesn't take long for his expression to fall. “I can't. I'm sorry. Your grandpa and I have an appointment to get to this morning.”

“Oh… can we come with you then?” she asks, immediately switching gears when she realizes the park won't be a full family outing.

“The park will be a lot more fun, trust me.”

Jee’s mouth pinches slightly, but she nods, and turns back to face her father again. “So?”

“Alright,” Chimney pushes back from the table, and starts grabbing plates. “Let's clean up and then we can go.”

Jee darts her eyes to Maddie.

“Go grab your backpack. I'm gonna talk to your Uncle Buck for a second.”

“C’mon,” Jee pushes her seat back and latches onto her grandpa. “Let’s go.”

Phillip blinks, readjusting to being present in his own body again. Jee tugs on his arm impatiently and he stands to follow after her, stumbling slightly as they climb the stairs.

“You heading out too?” Buck asks, tilting his head toward his sister.

Maddie shakes her head. “I promised dad I would start on the pamphlets.”

“I’m sure you could—”

“Buck,” she sighs. “I'm tired. I'm fine staying here. I'll be okay.”

Buck doesn't look entirely convinced, but he scrunches his face and nods anyway.

Eddie takes a second to press his leg against Buck’s, before he stands from the table and starts to gather the remaining dishes to take into the kitchen, opting to give Buck and Maddie at least a semblance of privacy.

Chimney has started washing the dishes and Eddie wordlessly joins him, adding a stack to the sink and sidestepping so he can help dry.

The silence feels strange, Eddie has spent plenty of time next to Chimney without talking (when you work 24 hour shifts there are bound to be large gaps in conversation), but this isn't an everyday silence, there's more weight to it than usual. Eddie has been emotionally exhausted for days, and he imagines that Chimney is feeling the exact same.

It's weird, to feel all this secondary grief, to be in a house helping prepare for a funeral for a woman he barely knew. His sadness isn't directly tied to Margaret's death, but he is sad, he's sad for Buck and for Maddie and Jee. And, he imagines it’s mostly the same for Chim. Though, unfortunately for Chimney, he had definitely spent more time with Margaret than Eddie ever did.

Chimney gets about halfway through the stack of dishes, before he leans forward against the sink, sighing and rubbing his eyes.

“More coffee?” Eddie asks.

It takes a second for Chim to fully process the question, but then he nods enthusiastically. “God, yeah.”

Eddie turns to face the other counter, grinding the beans and setting the machine up. The Buckleys’ coffee machine is a lot older than the one he and Buck have, but it works nearly as well. He grabs a couple of mugs from the cupboard, and digs around until he finds a to-go cup for Buck.

The coffee brews slowly and Eddie spends a couple of minutes drying dishes waiting for the last of the coffee to trickle down into the pot.

“God, I miss my bed,” Chimney groans. “I swear Maddie's old mattress is made of rocks.”

“I heard that,” Maddie yells.

Eddie's sure he's supposed to commiserate here, but, well, he slept great last night. Buck's mattress could have been made out of needles, and he probably wouldn't have even noticed.

“Yeah, me too,” he lies, probably unconvincingly knowing his track record.

He glances back toward the coffee pot, and hurries across the kitchen, grateful to have an excuse to hide his horrible poker face.

“How much sugar do you take?” Eddie asks, pouring coffee into Chimney's mug. There's no way Chim doesn't put any sugar in his coffee.

“Just the one.” Eddie nods and dutifully adds the allotted sugar.

He hands the finished mug to Chimney, who starts chugging it almost immediately, finishing at least half of the cup before coming up for air.

“I think I burned my mouth.” Duh. “Worth it. Thanks, man.”

“Course,” Eddie responds, returning to filling the last two cups. It doesn't take him long to finish his and Buck’s coffees, it's practically ingrained in him by this point.

He’s walking over to finish drying the dishes, but he stops when he hears Phillip’s voice:

“You ready?” Phillip asks.

Eddie turns, eyes instantly finding Buck as he stands up from the dining table.

“Yeah, just,” he pats his pockets. “Let me go find my wallet and everything.”

Phillip looks slightly put out at the small delay, but he nods, gesturing toward the stairs.

Eddie is already turning, ready to follow Buck, but he quickly freezes and turns back to face Chim again when he catches sight of the few dishes remaining in the sink.

“I—”

Chimney shakes his head. “Go. I'll finish up here.”

He claps Chim on the shoulder and hurries to follow Buck up the stairs and into his old bedroom.

Buck is rifling through his suitcase when Eddie catches up to him, and Eddie crosses the room to join him, bumping their shoulders together and passing him his coffee.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Buck shakes his head. “You can stay, help Maddie with the pamphlets.”

He's not sure if Maddie actually needs help or if Buck just doesn't want her to be alone right now, but he supposes it doesn't matter either way.

“You sure you don't want company?”

“Oh, I do. But, I'm gonna try to talk to my dad, actually talk. It probably won't be very successful.” Buck sighs, walking over to the dresser to grab his wallet. “But, I don't know… I want to try at least. I doubt he’ll really say anything, but there's at least a slightly better chance of him opening up if it's just me and him.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods.

He's not gonna fight Buck on his decision; Buck sounded confident enough and, even though Eddie doesn't particularly want to let him out of his sight right now, he trusts him.

“Okay,” Buck repeats. “I have to,” he gestures over his shoulder at the door and Eddie nods. Buck gives him a tight smile and hurries downstairs to meet his father.

And, despite what Buck just said, a part of Eddie expects him to turn around—to change his mind and ask Eddie to come with him. But, Buck doesn't turn around and it isn't long till he hears the front door shut behind him.

Eddie sighs and plops down on the edge of Buck’s old bed to check his phone: there’s a few messages in the 118 group chat and a separate message from Bobby, which Eddie quickly clicks on.

Bobby: How's Buck?

Eddie: He just left with Phillip to meet with the funeral director

It's a non-answer, but Eddie doesn't completely know how to respond to the question. Buck seems to be feeling at least a dozen different things every second.

His phone starts ringing almost immediately after he sends the message.

“Hey, Bobby,” Eddie greets.

“How's Hershey?”

“It's uh… it's about how you'd expect I guess. Though, I haven't seen much of it outside of the house.”

“And you? How are you?”

Eddie sighs. “I'm… I don't know. I’m good… mostly.” It feels weird to say, even if it is true. “I'm worried for Buck and Maddie. Hell, as much as I hate the guy, I'm even worried about Phillip at this point. He looks…” Eddie trails off, Phillip is starting to resemble a zombie at this point, but he’s not sure if he should say that. “He’s not doing great,” he concludes before wincing. Obviously the man isn’t doing great, his wife died.

“I can't say that surprises me,” Bobby responds. “It’s an impossible thing to process.”

Which… yeah, of course Bobby would understand what Phillip's going through. It's weird to picture Bobby having anything in common with Phillip, they're pretty much polar opposites in every way that matters, but he guesses they have something in common now, even if that thing is unimaginably horrible.

Eddie nods, forgetting that Bobby can't actually see him. He's not used to talking to him on the phone, there's usually no need. There isn't really a need right now either, but Bobby was clearly too impatient for texting at the moment.

“How's LA?” They’ve barely been gone for a day, but it feels like longer and part of him already misses the 118.

“We're pretty much moved into our new place. We’ll have to have dinner when you all get back.”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles. “Sounds good. Chris will be excited to see everyone, and it’ll give Buck an excuse to bake something… not that he needs one.” Buck was still baking at least a few times a week, whether he had a reason to or not.

Bobby laughs. “Yeah. He’s actually—” The sound of the alarm rings through the station on the other side of the phone. “I gotta go,” Bobby says, stating the obvious, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah. Talk to you later, Cap.” Eddie hangs up the phone and leans forward, taking a deep breath.

------------------------------

By the time Eddie makes it back downstairs, the house is quiet, and Maddie is sitting alone in the living room.

Maddie glances up at him as he walks into the room and tilts her head in acknowledgement.
She’s sitting next to a teetering stack of papers (on her left) and a smaller stack of folded pamphlets (on her right). There's a photo of Margaret on the front of the pamphlet that was clearly taken before Buck or Maddie had been born. Eddie barely recognizes her: the woman in the photo is so much younger than the one Eddie had met.

Maddie sees him looking and hands him a stack. “Here, Buck said you're helping.” She rolls her eyes slightly, but it's an undeniably fond eye roll, typical sibling exasperation.

Eddie sits down and looks at the stack of papers in his hands, his eyes darting to the right of the page, where Margaret Buckley is printed in big letters. There's a photo of her above the text.

“I think she had just graduated college in that one, my dad had me pick out the photos, he wanted one where she looked,” Maddie shrugs, mouth twisting. “He wanted the happiest photo I could find.”

Maddie did a good job with the photos. Eddie had no idea Margaret Buckley was capable of looking that happy: she's beaming and her eyes are glowing with a mix of pride and joy.

He flips the paper over and lets his eyes scan the back of the page, bypassing the writing to look at the photos. There's a picture of Margaret and Phillip that's clearly from their wedding day. And, underneath that, there's a family photo. Eddie's eyes zero in on it: it’s clearly a posed photo, and though they’re all smiling, none of them really look happy.

His thoughts on the photo must be clearly displayed across his face, because Maddie makes a vaguely distressed noise.

“It's bad isn't it? I needed to pick a family photo, and we don't have too many of those. I thought this one was,” she grabs her own copy, squinting her eyes to scrutinize the photo. “Happy adjacent at least,” she concludes.

“No, it's—okay, well, it's not the best photo in the world, but it's not that bad.”

“Okay,” Maddie nods. “Okay. That's a relief, I guess, considering how many I had printed.”

She grabs a paper from the top of her stack and starts folding, fingers shaking slightly. Eddie hesitates for a second before starting in on his own stack of papers.

“How’s Jee doing?”

“She's,” Maddie sighs. “It’s a lot of ups and downs. She was excited about the park, but I don’t know how long that’s gonna last… that’s why we decided to do it as early as possible I guess… to keep the momentum or something? But, last night was rough, she woke up in the middle of the night, crying from a nightmare, but that shifted to crying about her grandma. Which is… it’s good I guess? That she’s grieving. But, I still hate seeing her like that,” she pauses. “I mean, I guess you know what it’s like, seeing your kid cry feels like a punch in the gut every time.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice quiet.

“So,” Maddie sighs again and shrugs. “I don’t fully know how she’s doing, we’re just taking it day by day right now. I think this whole thing is overwhelming for her. I mean it’s overwhelming for me, so…” she trails off.

Eddie nods, trying to think of something comforting to say. “I think it’s good that she’s here. Buck did a deep dive on grief a few years ago.” The corner of Maddie’s mouth twitches upward at that. “I think he wanted to be better equipped to help people on the job, you know? Plus, it had been a pretty slow day. Anyway, one of the articles he read had an entire section dedicated to funerals. Which, well, it’s not very relevant to being a firefighter, but Buck was committed at that point and well… he told me that funerals are one of the best ways to process grief. Which makes sense obviously but, I just mean that I think that—in the long run—this will be good for her, being here for the funeral.”

“Yeah,” Maddie’s voice is quiet. “You’re probably right.”

She places another pamphlet on her growing stack and it teeters slightly, on the verge of falling over.

“How is it for you?” Eddie asks. “Being back here?”

Maddie hums, picking up another paper and folding it slowly.

“I've mostly been avoiding thinking about it… or I guess I haven't really had much time to process everything. Is that bad?” She sucks in a breath. “Am I completely out of touch with my emotions or something?”

Eddie shakes his head quickly. “Of course not.”

“I mean obviously I can't avoid every thought, even as preoccupied as I am. It's a lot… there's a lot of memories here.” She leans forward, moving her stack of completed pamphlets to the coffee table. “We didn't even move here till after Daniel, so the good memories that I do have aren't even at this house. Well,” she smiles slightly. “There were obviously some good memories here, Buck was here with me but,” she shrugs. “I guess the bad tended to outweigh the good a lot of the time.”

“Yeah, I—’ Eddie pauses, unsure of how to respond. “I get what you mean,” he decides. Which he does, in a way. “I’m glad you had each other.”

The room is silent for a few minutes before Maddie speaks again.

“So… Christopher is coming back soon,” she trails off and Eddie nods. “I bet you're excited,” she says, giving him a kind, encouraging smile.

“Yeah,” he smiles, flinching slightly.

“Okay,” she says, using a no bull-shit tone that reminds him of his sisters. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Maddie leans forward, looking entirely unconvinced. Eddie sighs.

“I'm excited for Chris to be home, obviously, but I was already,” he stops, clearing his throat. “I was already gone from his life for longer than I should have been, and I thought we’d never be apart again, and I messed up. I messed up,” he repeats. “Four months is a lifetime for a kid, he’s taller, he’s already getting new hobbies, and I'm not good at chess—my dad definitely didn't teach me—I've been practicing with Buck but…” he winces, inadvertently tearing the pamphlet he had been folding.

Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, but Maddie interrupts him: “It's fine, I definitely printed way too many of these anyways. Didn't want to upset my dad by assuming a small turnout. Though,” she lowers her voice, despite the fact that they're the only people in the house. “between you and me, I'm sure we’ll have plenty of extras. Some of her old students might come but,” she shrugs. “my mom wasn't the most social person in the world.”

“Yeah… I guess that doesn't surprise me.”

Maddie gives him a wry smile and grabs another paper, folding it meticulously.

“You know, after I got back from Boston a part of me was scared that Jee wouldn't recognize me… she had grown so much and I wasn't there for it.” It's been years since she was apart from Jee, but it clearly still weighs on her, and her voice is strained. “But, the important things hadn't changed, I still loved her, I was still her mom. And, I mean, I know it's different, Chris is older than Jee was and—”

“No,” Eddie interrupts. “I—thank you.” He grabs a sheet of paper, folding it in half. “God, I miss him,” Eddie continues, apparently unable to stop now that he's started. “I can’t believe he’s spent this much time with my parents,” he frowns as he says it, glancing around the room like he’s expecting his mom and dad to jump out from around the corner.

“They’ve always been better with him than they were with me and my sisters.” It's a low bar to surpass, but small improvements are still improvements he supposes. “But, I don’t know, they're…” Eddie trails off, failing to find words to adequately describe his parents. “They're complicated,” he decides, which is maybe a nicer description than his parents deserve, but it's the one he landed on.

“I guess I just… my dad was never that involved in our lives growing up,” he explains. “So, it's weird to think about him spending so much time with Chris. It's hard to imagine when he was never really around for us—for me and my sisters.”

“Work?” Maddie guesses and Eddie nods.

“Yeah,” he says, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. “Work.”

“You know, my parents somehow managed to avoid us while we were under the same roof; once I was old enough to take care of Buck on my own, I was pretty much designated as a full-time babysitter,” she pauses, grabbing and folding another paper. “And I don't… I don’t regret my role in Buck’s life, but it would've been nice to be a bit more…” she trails off, as if she can't even imagine a childhood in which she didn't have to grow up so young.

Eddie tries to fill in the end of the sentence in his head: a bit more what? carefree? childlike? happy?

He hums, filling the sudden silence. “Seems like your mom and dad read the same parenting books that my parents did.”

“Yeah,” Maddie tilts her head at him, contemplative. “I guess they did.”

After that, it doesn't take long after that for them to start exchanging childhood stories. It's nice, in a strange way, to compare details of their shitty childhoods. It's not something he talks about very often, but it's easy to talk to Maddie. It's oddly comforting to have someone to commiserate with.

They've probably been talking for close to an hour when they finally finish folding the last of the pamphlets.

Maddie lets out a heavy breath, leaning back into the couch. “Thanks,” she says, nodding slightly. “For the company.”

“Anytime,” Eddie responds sincerely.

His phone buzzes on the table and he leans forward to grab it, smiling when he sees a message from Chris.

“Chris or Buck?”

“I have other friends, you know?” Eddie retorts.

“None that make you smile like that.”

Which is… he's not sure Maddie knows him well enough to make that statement, but she's also not wrong, so he doesn't really have a leg to stand on.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Chris.” He leans forward, tilting his phone toward Maddie so she can see the photos he sent.

“Wow… Texas museums have nothing on LA.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Yeah, no doubt Buck will still be jealous though.”

Maddie smiles fondly. “Yeah, he definitely will be. Buck loves him so much, you know?” She shakes her head. “Of course you know I just… God, he talks about Chris all the time. He went on and on about him the first time they met.”

Eddie feels his heart expand. There was so much he loved about Buck, but the way he loved his son, their son, had to be at the top of the list.

“Did you go there a lot? When you were a kid?” Eddie must look suitably confused, because Maddie clarifies. “The history museum.”

Eddie laughs. “No. No, my parents were busy. I think I went once when I was younger, with my abuela.” He winces. “It’s, uh, it’s nice though, that they’re taking him.”

He winces again, hoping against hope that he doesn’t sound jealous of his own kid. Sure, he wishes his parents had been present more when he was growing up, but he is happy for Chris.

It’s not even like his parents are particularly good with kids now, they’re just… present. Whether or not that’s a good thing is probably up for debate, but it is something.

Maddie’s mouth twists slightly, but she nods. “Same parenting book.”

“Same parenting book.” Eddie responds, happy to leave it at that.

“Hey,” Maddie quirks an eyebrow at him, in an expression so quintessentially Buck that Eddie is momentarily shocked into silence. He shakes his head, refocusing. “I’ve been doing these weekly wine nights with Hen and Karen the last few months. When we get back, you should come.”

“Yeah? I'd like that. Actually, Karen was telling me—”

The door slams open, hitting the wall with a bang.

“Can we not do this here?” Buck snaps, his voice is harsh in a way that Eddie has rarely heard before. Buck turns, looking at Eddie and Maddie and lowering his voice. “Is Jee still at the park?” Maddie nods and Buck seems to relax slightly at the confirmation, his shoulders lowering.

Phillip follows Buck into the house, looking more alert than he has since they got to Hershey. He swings the door shut behind him and walks toward Buck, his expression tense.

“Do what? I just wanted to know why you can't sit down and write a few words about the woman who raised you.”

Maddie cringes and Eddie can see Buck physically recoil, taking a step back from his father and knocking into the wall behind him.

“I am writing something. I've been trying to write something for days. It's not exactly easy. It's not like you or mom really provided a master class in mourning.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You know what that means,” Buck snaps, flinching almost immediately after the words leave his mouth. “Never mind,” Buck says, his voice smaller. “I'm writing it, can we just…” he throws his hands up. “Let's just forget about it. I said I would do it. I'm doing it.” Buck is deflating by the second, anger rapidly fading into exhaustion.

“Your mother des—”

“Okay,” Maddie cuts her father off, her tone sharp. “I think it would be best if you don't finish that sentence.”

Phillip’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Eddie can't tell if he's disbelieving or apologetic.

Maddie turns her attention back to Buck, but he's already retreating toward the staircase, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Maddie stands to follow after him and Eddie jolts after her.

“Hey,” Maddie stops him, placing a hand against his shoulder. “I got this.” She nods toward the staircase and Eddie frowns. He—maybe selfishly—wants to be the one to follow after Buck. But, Maddie is looking at him with large, imploring eyes and Eddie (despite his own wishes) finds himself nodding back at her.

Maddie is Buck’s sister, she’s more than equipped to talk to Buck about the shitshow they just witnessed. She nods back at him and turns to follow Buck up the stairs.