Work Text:
There were quite a few issues that came with being struck by lightning, Buck had discovered. Not the least of which was the dysautonomia. Apparently, while he had avoided any cognitive or motor deficits as a result of 300 million volts of electricity running through his body, his autonomic nervous system had not been spared.
Two months after being released from the hospital, Buck’s lingering dizzy spells and heart palpitations were given a condition to blame - Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome - POTS.
Fortunately for Buck, with treatment, his symptoms subsided within a month, and he was able to go back to work without much worry. Sure, there were times that he felt worse than normal, usually coinciding with the familiar ache in his leg, but he was able to take a sick day when he needed to, and it almost never impacted his work.
He’d only passed out a few times since he got his diagnosis. Some people with POTS never passed out at all, but Buck was never the best at listening to his body and he wasn’t immune to forgetting to hydrate or take his meds on occasion. Luckily, each time it had occurred, the telltale signs of Buck wobbling in place, eyes unfocussed and blinking, and suddenly being short of breath were enough for Eddie to dash from wherever in the room he was to safely lower his best friend to the ground and hold him feet up until he regained consciousness.
Buck sometimes considered skipping his meds just to wake up to the sight of Eddie staring worriedly at him, but he always thought better of it. It didn’t matter anymore, anyway, Eddie wouldn’t be there to catch him if he fell, not unless he could run 800 miles in a matter of seconds. The only problem was, not that Buck planned it this way, he’d been fainting kind of a lot lately.
ONE
Buck had been stressed lately. And he would assure you, if you asked - which you shouldn’t - that it had nothing to do with being in love with Eddie. Because he wasn’t! Evan Buckley was not in love with Eddie Diaz because Eddie Diaz is straight!
Well, Buck had been stressed lately, and, despite his cardiologist’s warnings about what that could mean for his health, he ignored the signs he was tiring himself out, drank himself to sleep, and pulled himself out of bed each morning. And, to Buck’s credit, it was going great for him - right up until the moment it (meaning Buck) came crashing down.
One second, Buck was standing up from his couch in his (Eddie’s) living room, the next second he was staring at the fireplace with a dull ache radiating in his arm and his heart beating out of his chest. Fuck.
It had been six months or so since he’d last passed out - going slack in Eddie’s arms in the middle of the hospital waiting room after Bobby’s heart attack. The nurses had made a big fuss, but Eddie politely turned them away, asking only for a cup of water for Buck to drink and leaving momentarily to fetch a bag of salty chips from the vending machine. A few minutes later, Buck had felt fine, aside from the worry that still festered about Bobby’s health and Chris leaving.
It had been over six months, so Buck was supposed to call his cardiologist, set up an appointment and maybe change his meds a bit. At the thought of having to explain to his doctor that he was pretty sure the problem was that his best friend/human crashmat was in Texas, Buck decided to send a quick message on the patient portal instead and try to ignore it.
He told the 118 the next day that he tripped over one of the moving boxes in order to explain the conspicuous bruise on his shoulder.
TWO
Say what you want about the gym, they know what to do when someone passes out. And say what you want about the cheap place Buck had a membership with for when he didn’t want to work out at work, they weren’t about to risk calling 9-1-1 if they didn’t have to and get shut down for not being up to code.
So, when Buck felt the haze of unconsciousness drift over him upon standing up from his bench presses, he wasn’t all that worried about facing any paramedics he knew from work. He was a bit disturbed, however, when he woke up on the floor with three wide-eyed teenaged employees staring at him.
“Hey man, you okay?” The guy he recognized as the assistant manager asked. “You passed out back there.”
“Yeah, noticed that.” Buck grunted. “I’m fine, I just need a minute.”
“We brought you some water.” The peppy one - Jess, Buck distantly thought her name was - offered, holding out a cold water bottle.
Buck took it eagerly. “Thanks. And thanks for putting my feet up.” He nodded to where his legs were propped on the bench.
“No problem man, need us to call someone for you?”
Eddie’s face flashed through Buck’s mind. “No thanks, I’m really fine. I’ll just finish this water and head home.”
Maybe if the employees weren’t literal children they wouldn’t have let him drive home, but it didn’t really matter, anyway, Buck was fine, just a little stressed is all.
THREE
If there was an acceptable time to faint at work, it was definitely right after an hours-long call that exhausted the entire team. At least then, no one was questioning it. No one had found out about the previous two incidents Buck had in the last couple of weeks, and Buck didn’t intend to tell them. Also, lucky for him, his doctor didn’t insist on an appointment, just asked Buck to track his symptoms and vitals for a few weeks and report back. He was still waffling on whether to include the POTS attack at the gym in his notes.
Well, anyway, all of this to say that no one really batted an eye when Buck stepped out of the engine and promptly passed out on the floor.
He came to with Chimney nudging his shoulder and Bobby shooting him an unimpressed look. But one “I guess I need a nap” later and Buck was entourage-free trudging to the bunkroom and collapsing into a mattress.
It was a pain though, waking up a few hours later and having to clean up the dirt on the bunk and tidy the turnouts he had discarded lazily before turning in. He hadn’t even been completely sure what had happened was an episode until he went on his phone to export his heart rate data and found an alert of a sudden spike from 65 to 140 bpm and back down again - right around the time they would’ve returned from the call.
Hen must’ve noticed his surprised look in the loft, because she walked tentatively over and asked, worried, “Everything okay?”
“Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Fine.”
Hen wasn’t convinced. “Uh huh?”
“It’s fine. Eddie just sent me a joke I don’t think he really understood.” Buck tried to cover.
“Right.” Hen conceded, still suspicious. “Okay then.”
She walked away, leaving Buck to sit there, staring at the data on his phone that told him that he very much wasn’t fine .
FOUR
Buck had been feeling awful all day. It made sense, he supposed. He had read an article that said that POTS symptoms depended a lot on what you were doing three days ago, and three days ago, Buck was drinking a bit too indulgently with the team after a long call to a structure fire.
The problem was, he had things to get done today. He was hosting dinner tonight for the whole team and their families - an event that had been planned for weeks, pretty much since Buck moved into Eddie’s old house. First, before cooking, he needed some ingredients - things that were best to buy fresh.
He already felt dead on his feet as he stepped out of his car and crossed the parking lot into the grocery store. The bright fluorescent lights inside stung his eyes and felt like knives in his brain. He made a beeline for the produce section, itching to get what he needed and get out. He picked out some ready-to-eat avocados and the best, fullest artichokes he could find, and moved onto the next section. He picked up fresh bread (not having time nor energy to make his own) and threw some nice-looking spread into his basket.
It was then that he realized he was still running low on paprika, and would have to pick up some more or risk disappointing with tasteless food. So he dragged himself to the spice aisle, located the jar he was looking for on the top shelf, and walked over.
Buck was tall, but he still had to reach above his head to get the spice, causing his vision to swim and his grip to falter on the jar. It slipped out of his grasp and clattered lightly on the floor. For once, Buck was grateful for the shitty plastic containers they used because he knew that if that jar of paprika had broken, he might not have any energy left to deal with it.
He sighed and bent down to pick up the jar, placing it into his basket before straightening up to his full height. And then the floor, which had, just a second ago, been where it should’ve been, strictly under his feet, rose up to meet his head.
Buck must’ve been out for a little while because he woke up to a paramedic from the 133 shining a pen light in his eyes. He groaned against the stimulus, snapping his eyes shut and pulling away as his already-throbbing head started pounding in pain.
“Hey, can you tell me your name?” The paramedic - Buck couldn’t read their name tag and didn’t have the mental energy to remember their name from experience - asked.
FIVE
Buck really hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital, but with a clear concussion and having “mysteriously” fainted in the middle of a grocery store, he didn’t have much of a choice.
“We called your emergency contact.” The patient representative had informed him as she stood in the doorway and let the nurses start IV fluids and note down his various bruises from a few weeks of firefighting with some fainting on the side.
Buck started to rack his mind for a memory of if he’d changed it back to Maddie from Eddie, not that Maddie was better. Eddie may have an attitude and was currently in Texas, but he was nothing compared to the wrath of the woman who raised Buck - who was currently pregnant and traumatised. Thinking hurt so much that he gave up immediately.
And here’s the thing about when thinking hurts for Evan Buckley: all semblance of impulse control goes out the window. So as soon as he was left alone, knowing he had things to do today (and not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to do them anyway), he tried to escape.
Buck made it about two steps off the bed before promptly collapsing.
He woke up a minute later tangled in tubes and wires with alarms beeping around him and the sound of urgent footsteps approaching the room. He was dizzy and tired as he was helped into the bed, and more dizzy and tired when the nurse pushed something into his IV at the request of the doctor.
It felt like forever and no time at all before Maddie and Chimney rushed into his ER room and Maddie started doting on him, but Buck couldn’t get himself to move his arms to meet hers. The doctor came back in a moment later and addressed Maddie, it felt like too long and Buck let the heaviness in his head lull him back to sleep.
His next rude awakening was a concussion check. He willed his mouth to work as he answered the questions, but struggled to follow the physical instructions offered to him. They’d told him he was on a sedative to keep him calm, so he didn’t know how much of the problem was that, and how much was the brain damage the linoleum floor had dealt.
“You need to take care of yourself.” Maddie had scolded as she helped him into his house, having finally been cleared to leave the hospital and stay home, even if alone.
“I know, Maddie, I’m trying.” Buck sighed, trudging down the hall to the bedroom. “I’ve just been stressed out lately.”
“Hm. I can’t imagine what about.” Maddie teased.
Chimney perked up behind them. “What? What would you be stressed out about, Buckaroo?”
“Nothing!” Buck announced. “It’s nothing. Just, you know, things are weird right now.”
“You’re stressed about Eddie being gone?” Chim interrogated, earning a blush from Buck.
“That’s part of it, sure.” Buck relented, but went no further. “Can you just leave me be? I need my rest, doctor’s orders.”
“Of course.” Maddie pressed a kiss to Buck’s birthmark. “I hope you feel better soon. Call me if you need anything.”
PLUS ONE
Buck really wanted to call Eddie, but there was still the problem of the cut on his temple and the IV bruises on his hands from that fateful day. Eddie couldn’t know that Buck wasn’t doing well, and especially couldn’t know that it was because - as Buck had admitted to himself and no one else - he was in love with him.
Buck was spending most of his time during his mandatory sick leave in bed, where he was most comfortable (and lucid), drinking water enhanced with kiwi strawberry propel and watching TV since he was cleared to use screens.
Two days into sick leave, with only one left before his return to work, Buck heard an unexpected knock at the door. And maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to be laying down for so long , because after peeling himself out of bed, Buck only made it a couple steps into the living room before passing out.
He’d expected to hurt when he woke up, to have a fresh new bruise forming on his arm or ankle or something, but he was surprisingly fine as he came to - better than fine, comfortable.
Buck paused before opening his eyes, gauging the situation. He seemed to be laying on his couch - the barely-livable leather thing he’d picked out with Natalia. His feet were propped up on one of the armrests, cushioned by one of his throw pillows, and there was a blanket draped over him. Hushed voices talked in the corner, not quite identifiable by sound alone.
He blinked his eyes open and made a slight sound to let whoever was doting on him know he was awake, stopping abruptly when he locked eyes with Eddie Diaz.
Eddie, who had left.
Eddie, who was supposed to be in El Paso.
Eddie, who couldn’t be here , because he was 800 miles away.
Eddie, along with the chuckling face of Chris - who Buck had missed so much behind him.
“How are you here?” Buck squeaked out.
“We drove up. Spent the night in Arizona. The UHaul is outside.”
“The UHaul?” Buck shook his head, sitting up, then made a realization. “You’re staying?”
Eddie stepped towards Buck, standing right in front of him, having considerately moved the coffee table lest Buck hit his head. “If you’ll have us.”
“You didn’t-” Buck swallowed. “You didn’t come cause I was hurt, right?”
“No, I didn’t even know what happened until we got here and you passed out.” Eddie scoffed. “After I caught you and got you situated on the couch, I called Maddie and she kindly filled me in before I took you to the ER myself. I thought you hadn’t passed out in almost a year.”
“I hadn’t, not until you left.” Buck gulped. “Wait - you caught me? I didn’t even get to answer the door.”
“You never changed the locks. I got impatient. I’m glad I did.” Eddie took Buck’s hand in his, holding it delicately and tracing the lines of his fingers. “I’ll always catch you.”
“I’ll be in my room!” Chris announced as he made a face and retreated to the room Buck had kept set up for him.
“What’s that about?” Buck cocked his head to the side, smiling broadly.
“Chris and I might have talked a bit on the road. About me, about us.” Eddie gestured between them.
“Uh huh?” Buck nodded. “And what exactly did you-”
Usually, Buck would not consider mid sentence a perfect time to be kissed. But, as he very quickly found out, there was no such thing as an imperfect time when the person kissing you was Eddie Diaz.
“I love you.” Buck whispered when they finally came up for air. “I love you so much and I didn’t even know until you left. I didn’t even know until I was so stressed about not having you here that I started passing out without you there to catch me.”
“I love you, Buck.” Eddie whispered as he went back in for another kiss. “And I’ll always have your back.”