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Buck sat on the couch in the firehouse’s “living room,” feeling like a livewire was threaded under his flesh. Every nerve ending was hyperaware: of the brush of clothing on his skin; of the weight of his uniform suspenders, imprinting lines onto his body like the pressed flowers he kept from his first date with Eddie; of the suffocating weight on his chest.
No matter what he did, it wouldn’t go away. He tried deep breathing, distracting himself with tv and books, listening to music.
But the sensation was always there. A constant hum, a constant itch. Buck took a deep breath, trying to convince himself he was just being stupid.
They had a rough call. The 118 had been called to a house where a domestic violence call had been reported, and they had needed backup. A dad had been beating the shit out of his wife and son. When he had hit the mom hard enough to knock her out, his son had called the cops. He was fourteen years old. His name was Chris. And he was so, so scared.
Buck had tended to the kid while Hen and Chimney dealt with the mom. She was in the ICU right now. Hopefully she would pull through, but she was in rough shape. Buck shuddered to think what would happen to the kid if his mom didn’t make it. Hopefully he had some relatives, but if not, he’d likely go into foster care. God, he hoped he wouldn’t go into foster care.
At the very least, Eddie wasn’t on shift. Small blessings. The kid had Chris’ curly brown hair and bright smile. Really, the resemblance wasn’t that pronounced, but it’s impossible not to think of your own family, your own fourteen-year-old son, when on a call like that. Add the fact that they shared a name and yeah, it hit a little close to home. Calls with kids always did; this one just hit a little closer.
Really, all Buck wanted was to go home and hug his husband and his son. But he still had an hour left in his shift. So, he was gonna sit here, bugs crawling up his spine and twisting through his vertebrae and pretend that he was fine.
He had talked with his therapist about why bad calls or big emotions always made him feel like crawling out of skin. How the lack of affection throughout his entire childhood made him crave the reassurance of physical touch. How the endless amounts of meaningless sex he’d had until his mid-twenties was a way to fill that void. How, when this happens, all he has to do is just ask for a hug.
But sometimes that was easier said than done. Not because he thought anyone of his family would refuse or think it was weird that he wanted a hug or anything. He just hated feeling like a burden. And it was easy to get lost in his head.
Buck sat for another few minutes, stewing in his own discomfort before spurring himself into action. After all, did he really want to show up to therapy on Thursday and say “Yeah, exactly what we talked about happened and instead of doing something about it I decided to not do something.” No, no he did not. He wanted to show up to therapy on Thursday and say “Yeah, exactly what we talked about happened, so I went and asked my friend for a hug exactly like we talked about.”
Gritting his teeth, Buck stood up, muscles flexing and tensing as a wave of pinpricks washed over his body. Hen and Chimney were sitting at the kitchen table, mugs of coffee in hand, chatting quietly. They looked up as he approached.
“Hey, Buckaroo, how’s it hanging?” Hen asked, the smile twisting the corners of mouth upward slightly tempered by the slight concern shadowed in her eyes.
“Hey,” Buck faltered for a second before reminding himself that he would not return a failure to his next therapy session. “I’m fine. Can I um- Can I have a hug, though?”
Chimney smiled. “Always, Buck. Call hit a little too close to home?”
Buck nodded mutely, gaze turned downward. Hen and Chim stepped forward and enfolded Buck into their arms.
Pressure.
Firm, warm pressure enclosing him from all sides. Buck sighed, arms wrapping around his family, pulling them even closer as he practically melted into their embrace. A shuddery breath escaped him. A hand, Hen’s judging by the blunt nails (Chimney had weirdly sharp nails), came up and cradled the back of his head, gently scratching his skull and tugging the curly strands of hair there. Chimney’s arm was a solid band across his back, keeping Buck steady despite the roiling emotions inside of him. They stood like that, Buck ensconced in Chim and Hen’s arms, for a full minute before Buck pulled away, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes.
“Thanks, guys.”
Hen smiled. “Anytime.”
Chimney nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. “You’re family.” Then he smiled, and ruffled Buck’s hair. “Besides, who could say no to the world’s biggest teddy bear. Hugging you is like hugging a weighted blanket. That also happens to be heated. You know you run hot right? You’re like a furnace.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Buck laughed, shoving Chim’s shoulder. “You love it.”
“What can I say? Buckley hugs are the best.”
“Don’t I know it.”
For the rest of their shift, Buck, Hen, and Chimney chatted in the kitchen. The entire time, Hen kept a comforting hand on his knee, and Chimney would have an arm slung over his shoulder or their knees pressed together. As they were headed out the door, Bobby promising to see them bright and early the next day, Buck realized that the buzzing under his skin had finally faded away to an almost unnoticeable level. Well, would you look at that: Dr. Copeland was right.
Twenty minutes later, Buck was pulling up in his driveway, grinning at the thought of walking into the living room where Eddie was probably set up with a beer and one of his favorite telenovelas. Walking into their home, Buck admired the photos on the wall that marked the house as theirs: a picture of Chris standing in front of the giraffe enclosure at the zoo, Eddie and Buck laughing in their turn-outs at the station, Buck standing on a mountain from that hiking trip he and Eddie had gone on last month, and (Buck’s personal favorite) a photo Bobby had taken of the three of them at a 118 BBQ where Chris was conked out on Buck’s lap, Buck was falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie was looking down at the two of them with the softest expression. Smiling to himself, Buck walked into the living room to find Eddie in almost the exact position Buck guessed he would be in. The only difference was the extra beer can Eddie had put out for him.
“Oh, hey, babe! How was your shift?” Eddie reached up to grab Buck’s hand and pulled him down on the couch so that Buck fell half on top of him, laughing at Buck’s dramatic groan. “Oh, I got a beer out for you too, should still be cold, but I can grab another if it isn’t.”
“Thanks, Eds,” Buck said, snuggling closer into Eddie’s side. “And my shift was fine, just glad to be home.”
Eddie pressed a kiss to Buck’s curls. “I’m glad you’re home too.”
And there, wrapped in his love’s arms, the humming under Buck’s skin stopped completely for the first time since that call, knowing he was finally home.