Archive of Our Own

The truck rumbled down the road toward the firehouse, the tires humming against the pavement. It was late, the night air still thick with the remnants of smoke, and the crew was exhausted, their bodies heavy with the toll of the fire. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving behind a deep, bone-tired ache.

Buck sat in the back, staring out of the window as the city flashed by. The lights of LA seemed distant, like they belonged to another world entirely. His mind felt fuzzy, like there was a layer of fog settling over everything, blurring the edges of his thoughts. He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him, a heavy weight he couldn’t shake.

He could still hear the crackle of the flames in his head, still feel the heat on his skin, the way the fire had consumed everything in its path. The smoke had been so thick, so suffocating. There had been no escape from it, no safe place to hide . People were screaming, their faces obscured by the black cloud, their voices lost in the roar of the blaze.

It had been one of those fires, the kind that never seemed to stop, the kind that pushed you past your limits. Buck had been at the forefront of it all, his mind focused on the task at hand, blocking out the fear, the uncertainty. But now, as the truck cruised through the streets, it all came rushing back.

He hadn’t realized how badly he was shaking until he saw his hands, curled into tight fists at his sides. His knuckles were white, the tremor in his hands unmistakable. The fire had been too much. It had been too intense, too overwhelming. He hadn’t been able to breathe properly when the smoke had surrounded them, hadn’t been able to think straight with the flames licking at his heels.

The crew was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Hen and Chim were up front, their heads hanging low, both of them processing the night’s events. Eddie sat beside him, but Buck couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. Eddie always seemed to know what to say, how to make things feel manageable. But tonight, Buck didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling.

Bobby was the first to speak, his voice steady as always, but Buck could hear the exhaustion in it. “We’re almost there,” he said, glancing at the rearview mirror. “Everyone good?”

Hen nodded, her eyes tired but resolute. Chim just let out a breath, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel.

Buck nodded too, though it was half-hearted, and Eddie gave him a quick, concerned glance before looking away. The silence that followed felt thick, like no one knew what to say, like no one wanted to break the moment.

As they neared the firehouse, Buck felt the familiar ache in his chest, the weight of the night pressing down on him. The fire had been catastrophic. They’d pulled people from the wreckage, had saved lives, but the destruction was all around them. The building had collapsed in on itself, beams and rubble scattered everywhere. The fire had been so intense, it had felt like they were fighting it forever. He couldn’t shake the image of that one woman, her face covered in ash, clutching her child to her chest as they rushed her to safety.

He closed his eyes, but the memory stuck. The way the flames had consumed everything, the way they had been powerless against it. He’d seen it before, of course, but this fire—this one had felt different. Bigger. Scarier. He had been so sure they wouldn’t make it out.

The truck pulled into the firehouse parking lot, and the engine cut off with a sigh. Buck was the first to exit, his legs feeling unsteady as he stepped onto the asphalt. The weight of the night was already pressing on him harder than he could handle.

Eddie fell into step beside him, his hand brushing Buck’s shoulder. “You good?” Eddie asked, his voice low and gentle, though Buck could hear the concern under it.

Buck nodded again, but this time it didn’t feel like enough. The words were there, stuck in his throat, but they didn’t come out. He wanted to tell Eddie everything— how he felt, how the fire had shaken him more than he let on —but the words never seemed to fit.

He forced himself to smile, a half-hearted attempt at normalcy, but it felt hollow. They made their way to the locker room, the weight of the day clinging to their clothes. The others were already getting out of their gear, their movements mechanical, like they were on autopilot.

Buck felt the familiar emptiness creeping in. He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted the noise to stop.

He peeled off his gear in silence, his fingers moving stiffly. His head was starting to feel heavy, his thoughts slowing down. He needed to get away for a moment, to breathe. But he didn’t move fast enough. He didn’t get far enough away.

Instead, he found himself sitting on the couch in the break room, staring blankly at the wall. His chest felt tight, the weight of everything pressing on him like it was too much to bear. The images of the fire— the smoke, the heat, the destruction —kept flashing behind his eyes, like a reel of horror he couldn’t turn off.

His breathing had gone shallow, and his hands were shaking again. He closed his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it only made it worse. The tears were there now, burning behind his eyelids, threatening to spill over.

He didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know how to fix it.

Buck felt small. Smaller than he’d ever felt before. The weight of the fire, of the lives they’d saved and the ones they hadn’t, was too much for him to carry. And for the first time in a long while, Buck didn’t know how to handle it.

His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his chest heavy, suffocating under the pressure of everything. The fire had been one of the worst they’d fought. The building collapsed in a way that felt like it came from nowhere, the blaze devouring everything in its path. They’d saved people, sure, but the image of the ones they hadn’t, the faces behind the smoke, lingered in his mind like a shadow.

And now, back at the firehouse, Buck couldn’t shake it. The adrenaline was fading, and all that was left were the emotions, swirling in him like a violent storm. His heart was racing, his mind was too loud. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to bury it all and walk away, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop feeling it.

Hen, Eddie sat with him. They didn’t push, didn’t demand he talk, but they were there, each of them quietly trying to understand what was happening to him.

“Buck?” Hen’s voice was gentle, a hand lightly resting on his arm. She wasn’t the type to let things slide. She knew something was wrong, even if Buck didn’t know how to explain it.

Buck didn’t look up. He couldn’t. His breath was shallow, his heart a pounding drum in his chest. His eyes burned, but he didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to be this... weak. This wasn’t him.

Chim stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but softening with concern. He had a way of quietly watching, like he was waiting for Buck to give him a sign that he could help. He wasn’t great with words, but his presence was a comfort in itself.

Eddie crouched in front of Buck, his eyes searching his face, his concern evident. “Buck, you need to talk to us,” Eddie said, his voice low, careful. “What’s going on?”

Buck just shook his head, his thoughts crashing together in a dizzying mess. He wanted to say something, wanted to explain what was going on, but the words wouldn’t come. Everything felt heavy, like it was trapped in his chest, suffocating him.

“I... I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I just... feel so... small. ”

Eddie’s heart twisted at the sound of Buck’s voice, so raw and fragile. He’d never heard Buck speak like that before. The fire had taken its toll on them all, but Buck’s vulnerability was something Eddie didn’t know how to navigate.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Hen said softly. “You’re not small. You’re stronger than you realize, but it’s okay to not feel strong right now.”

But Buck didn’t seem to hear her. He stared blankly ahead, his eyes unfocused, lost in something no one could see. He wasn’t responding to them anymore, and the silence stretched on.

Eddie gently placed a hand on Buck’s knee, trying to ground him. “Talk to us, Buck,” he repeated. “What happened back there? You’re not alone in this.”

Buck’s breath hitched, and the tears finally came, rolling down his face silently. He was trying so hard to hold it together, but everything was slipping through his fingers. The fire, the lives, the people he couldn’t save— it was too much for him to bear. The weight of it crushed him, and he couldn’t breathe.

“I couldn’t save them,” he choked out, his voice barely audible, thick with emotion. “I couldn’t do enough.”

Chim and Hen exchanged glances, both of them silently understanding the depth of what Buck was carrying. It wasn’t just the fire. It was everything. The pressure, the guilt, the exhaustion. They didn’t have answers for him. They couldn’t make it better. All they could do was sit with him, let him feel it, and hope he wouldn’t have to carry it alone.

But the moment stretched longer, and Buck’s sobs grew quieter, more distant, like he was retreating from the world around him. His shoulders hunched, his eyes glazed, as if he was somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t escape from. And then, softly, almost as if he wasn’t aware of it, he spoke again.

“Daddy...?”

The word hung in the air, unexpected and strange. Buck’s voice sounded so different now— small, uncertain, like a child lost in a world too big for him. It wasn’t like him at all.

Chim, who had been leaning against the wall, grimaced. “Eww, why do you have to make everything erotic, Buck?” he muttered, half-joking, half-baffled.

But the mood in the room shifted instantly. The awkwardness of Chim’s comment hung in the air, but it was overshadowed by the confusion in their faces. Hen’s eyes widened slightly, and Eddie blinked, taking a step back. They looked at Buck, really looked at him now, and it was clear something was off.

Buck didn’t respond to Chim’s joke. He didn’t even seem to notice it. His eyes were unfocused, his body slumped as if he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. He was staring past them, a look of confusion and emptiness settling over his features.

Eddie’s heart sank. He kneeled in front of Buck, trying to get his attention. “Buck... Buck, can you hear me?”

But Buck didn’t answer. He just blinked, like he didn’t recognize Eddie, like he was somewhere else entirely.

Hen exchanged a worried look with Eddie, her brows furrowed. “What the hell just happened?” she murmured.

Eddie shook his head, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what was happening. This wasn’t Buck. This wasn’t the man who had always been so steady, so full of life. The Buck in front of him was... lost.

“Buck?” Eddie repeated softly, but it was clear that Buck wasn’t hearing him.

None of them understood what was happening. They didn’t know why Buck had suddenly regressed so completely, why he was acting like someone else entirely. And, for the first time in a long time, none of them knew how to help.

The silence in the room grew heavier with each passing second. Buck’s tears had stopped, but his body was still trembling, his eyes vacant as he stared past them. He wasn’t looking at them the way he normally would, wasn’t reacting like the Buck they knew. The playful spark, the sharp wit— everything that made Buck who he was —seemed to have vanished, leaving behind a fragile, confused version of him.

Then, suddenly, Buck sobbed loudly, the sound raw and desperate, tearing through the room. His chest heaved with the effort, his whole body shaking as he let out a heart-wrenching cry. His hands reached out, as if he was trying to find something to hold onto, something that could make him feel safe again.

“DADDY!” he shouted, the word cutting through the air, piercing the heavy silence.

Eddie froze. His heart lurched at the sound of his name— his title —coming from Buck’s lips, but it wasn’t the same Buck he knew. The way Buck looked at him wasn’t with that familiar, teasing grin or those eyes full of unspoken understanding. It was the look of a child, lost and afraid, searching for someone to guide him through the darkness. His whole demeanor screamed vulnerability, a need that Eddie wasn’t prepared for.

Without thinking, Eddie moved toward him, his arms wrapping around Buck’s trembling form. He pulled Buck into a quick hug, holding him tightly for a moment, unsure what else to do. It wasn’t the time for questions, not yet. Right now, Buck needed him, and Eddie wasn’t going to hesitate.

“Hey, darling, it’s okay,” Eddie murmured softly, trying to calm him down. He stroked Buck’s hair, his fingers shaking slightly as he tried to soothe him. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe . I’m here.”

But no matter how softly he spoke, how gently he held Buck, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Buck continued to sob, the noise raw and desperate, and Eddie’s heart broke in his chest. He wasn’t sure what was happening, wasn’t sure how to help him, but he couldn’t leave him like this.

“Chim,” Eddie said, his voice urgent, “Go get Bobby. Please. ”

Chim didn’t need to be told twice. His face was grim, and he nodded quickly before stepping toward the door. Eddie’s focus, however, never left Buck. He kept his arms around him, holding him close, even as Buck continued to cry, his sobs coming in ragged gasps.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, a nickname slipping out despite the gravity of the situation. “You’re not alone, okay? I’m right here.”

But no matter how many soothing words he offered, no matter how much comfort he tried to give, Buck’s cries didn’t stop. His face was buried in Eddie’s chest, his hands clutching onto Eddie’s shirt like a lifeline, his small, shaky breaths not offering any relief.

Hen moved closer, concern etched on her face. “What the hell is going on?” she murmured, her eyes wide, but there was nothing Eddie could say. No explanation. Not yet.

He looked down at Buck, whose sobs began to quiet, but the emptiness in his eyes remained. Eddie kept murmuring gentle reassurances, still cradling Buck in his arms, though he wasn’t sure how much Buck could even hear him at this point.

“Darling, please, ” Eddie whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he gently cupped Buck’s face. “Look at me. It’s me, Eddie. I’m here.”

But Buck didn’t respond. He only whimpered, his gaze unfocused, and the word “daddy” slipped from his lips again, as though it was the only thing that could make sense of the overwhelming flood of emotions inside him.

At that moment, Chim burst back into the room with Bobby right behind him. Bobby immediately took in the scene, his eyes narrowing with concern as he made his way over to Buck and Eddie.

“Eddie,” Bobby said quietly, his gaze flickering between them, “What’s going on? What happened to him?”

“I don’t know, Bobby,” Eddie replied softly, trying not to let the panic rise in his chest. “He— he just... he started crying, calling me ‘daddy,’ and I don’t know what’s happening”

Bobby knelt beside them, his hands gently pulling Buck away from Eddie’s chest so he could look at him. “Buck?” Bobby said, his voice calm but firm. “Hey, look at me.”

Buck’s eyes flickered toward Bobby for a moment, but the same distant, lost look remained. He didn’t respond to Bobby’s voice, didn’t acknowledge him in any way. It was like Buck wasn’t really there anymore, like he had vanished into himself and left only a shell behind.

Bobby’s heart sank. He’d seen this before. He had seen Buck regress before, during moments of overwhelming stress or emotional turmoil, though it was never this extreme. Bobby understood in an instant. Buck wasn’t Buck right now. He wasn’t the confident, charismatic firefighter they all knew. He wasn’t the reporter who kept his distance from his emotions, the man who kept his pain hidden behind a grin.

No, right now, he was Evy. A side of Buck that only a few knew about, a side that he kept hidden out of shame.

Eddie, on the other hand, was still so confused. His eyes searched Bobby’s face, desperate for answers, but Bobby knew this wasn’t something Eddie would understand immediately. Not yet.

Bobby gently moved Eddie aside, instinctively pushing him out of the way. “Eddie, I need you to give him space,” Bobby said quickly, his voice sharp with authority that Eddie hadn’t heard from him before. It wasn’t harsh, but it was insistent.

Eddie blinked in confusion, but he stepped back, watching as Bobby immediately wrapped his arms around Buck and pulled him close to his chest. “Evy, ” Bobby whispered gently, using the name Buck only responded to during these moments of regression. “It’s okay, Evy. You’re safe. Bobby’s here.”

Buck’s body stiffened in Bobby’s arms for a moment, but slowly, the distant expression in his eyes began to fade. His small, trembling hands reached for Bobby, fingers curling into his shirt as he pressed his face into Bobby’s chest. A soft, broken whimper escaped his lips, and Bobby knew the worst of the storm had passed. Buck— Evy —was back, even if just for this moment.

“Evy, I’m here. It’s okay,” Bobby whispered again, rocking him gently, trying to offer the comfort Buck needed. It was a comfort that Eddie, despite his affection for Buck, could not provide in this moment. Only those who knew about Evy’s existence could truly understand how to navigate through this.

Eddie stood frozen for a moment, still processing everything that had just unfolded. His eyes darted between Bobby and Buck— no, Evy —his mouth slightly agape. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to process the sight of the man he loved regressing in front of him, reduced to someone else entirely.

Bobby continued to hold Evy, the broken man now resting in his arms, a small bundle of vulnerability and fear. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe here. You’re not alone.”

Eddie’s voice trembled, thick with emotion and confusion. “Bobby... what... what’s happening?”

Bobby didn’t pull away from Buck, didn’t break his protective embrace. Instead, he looked up at Eddie with understanding in his eyes. “Eddie,” he said softly, “Buck... Evy... he’s regressed. This happens sometimes. It’s a coping mechanism. He—he can’t always control it when he gets overwhelmed.”

Eddie blinked, still not fully comprehending. “Regressed?” he echoed, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. “But... why now? What happened?”

Bobby sighed deeply, holding Evy tighter as the younger man began to relax, his sobs quieting, though there was still a hint of fear in his eyes. “The fire,” Bobby explained quietly, his gaze never leaving Buck. “It was too much. He’s been through a lot, Eddie. The lives saved, the ones lost... it broke him in ways we didn’t see. He’s... he’s regressed to this place, to a time where he feels safer, more secure. He’s not Buck right now. He’s Evy.”

Eddie’s heart shattered at Bobby’s words. His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything, but it wasn’t clicking. This wasn’t the Buck he knew. This wasn’t the strong, fearless firefighter who was always there to help. This wasn’t the man Eddie loved, at least not the way he recognized him in the moment.

“But... why didn’t he tell me ?” Eddie whispered, his voice thick with hurt and confusion. “Why didn’t he tell me about this? Why didn’t he trust me with this?”

Bobby’s expression softened. “It’s not about trust, Eddie. It’s about shame. Buck... Evy is ashamed of this side of himself. He hides it because he feels weak, because he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.”

Eddie’s chest tightened at that, and he felt a rush of guilt pour over him. “I don’t want him to feel like that. I don’t want him to feel alone. ”

Bobby gently rubbed Evy’s back, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Then you need to give him the space to come back when he’s ready, Eddie. He’ll need you when he’s able to. Right now, he’s not Buck, he’s Evy. And you need to let him find his way back to you.”

Eddie nodded slowly, though he felt like he was losing something. The weight of it all was too much to bear. He wanted to reach for Buck, to make everything okay again, but he didn’t know how to help him.

Buck— or Evy —finally looked up at Bobby, his wide eyes full of confusion and fear. He blinked a few times, his voice small and shaky. “Daddy?”

Eddie’s heart lurched at the sound of the word, but he said nothing, unsure of how to respond. It was clear that Buck— Evy —wasn’t able to comprehend the situation fully.

Bobby met Eddie’s eyes, his own filled with quiet understanding. “It’s okay, Eddie,” Bobby murmured. “He’s not ready yet. Just... let him take his time.”

And as Eddie stood there, watching Buck— or Evy —curl further into Bobby’s arms, he realized that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy. But he was going to be there for Buck, no matter how many pieces of him he had to put back together.

Evy had quieted now, still hiccuping softly, his face red and streaked with tears. His strong, adult body was folded in on itself, arms wrapped tightly around Bobby's neck, fingers clinging to the collar of his shirt like a scared child holding onto their favorite blanket. He looked so out of place— too big for how small he felt.

Bobby kept his voice low, gentle. “Hey, Evy,” he said, brushing a hand through Buck’s sweat-damp curls. “You wanna help me in the kitchen? Maybe we can make something yummy. What do you think?”

Evy hesitated, then peeked up at Bobby. His voice was small, soft, barely above a whisper. “We makin’ snacks?”

Bobby smiled. “Yeah, buddy. Let’s go make snacks.”

He stood with care, still holding Evy close. Despite the mismatch of size, Evy clung to him like a little kid being carried away from a nightmare. His legs dangled awkwardly, his grip tight but trusting.

“I’m coming too,” Eddie said quickly, voice low but steady. He wasn’t going to leave him. Not now. Not ever.

Bobby gave him a small nod and turned toward the kitchen, Evy cradled against his chest. Hen and Chim stayed behind, exchanging quiet, bewildered looks but saying nothing.

Once in the kitchen, Bobby gently lowered Evy onto the counter, placing him in the safest spot where he wouldn’t fall. Evy sat cross-legged, big hands resting on his knees, eyes wide as he took in the cabinets and shelves like he’d never seen them before.

“Okay,” Bobby said, opening a few drawers. “You wanna help me spread some peanut butter?”

Evy lit up—actually lit up. “I can do it! I big ,” he declared, puffing out his chest proudly, though the adult voice coming from that mindset made the moment almost surreal.

Bobby chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re big alright.”

He handed Evy a dull butter knife and opened a jar of peanut butter, placing a stack of graham crackers nearby. Evy took the knife like it was a precious treasure, tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrated hard on scooping and smearing the spread. His movements were clumsy and uneven, and peanut butter ended up more on his hands than the crackers, but his face was beaming.

Eddie hovered for a moment, watching with his heart in his throat, then slowly stepped forward and placed a small bowl of banana slices on the counter. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently, the word unfamiliar on his tongue but natural somehow. “Wanna help me with these?”

Evy blinked up at him, recognition slow but warm. “Hi,” he said simply, lifting his peanut-butter-covered hand in greeting.

Eddie smiled, reaching to gently wipe some of the mess from his wrist with a nearby napkin. “Hi,” he said back. “You’re doing a great job.”

“Snack makin’,” Evy said proudly, his grin wide.

“You sure are.”

Bobby was working quietly beside them, staying close but letting Eddie take over the interaction. There was a rhythm forming now— gentle, safe, soft. Eddie helped Evy place banana slices on the crackers while Evy made up stories about each one, speaking with the open honesty of a child who didn’t know shame.

“This one’s a boat,” he said, sticking a slice onto a cracker. “It go vroom in the peanut butter river.”

Eddie chuckled, voice thick. “That’s a very fast boat.”

Evy beamed.

For a moment, there was peace. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet sound of peanut butter being smeared, bananas being squished between crackers, and laughter that didn’t quite sound like Buck’s but didn’t feel out of place either.

And Eddie thought, If this is what Buck needs, then I’ll be here. Even if I don’t understand it all yet. I’ll learn. For him.

Because no matter how big Buck looked, right now he was just Evy. And Evy needed to feel safe.

Evy was humming softly to himself now, swinging his legs off the side of the counter as he licked peanut butter from his fingers. The crackers had fallen apart the second he tried to stack them into a “snack tower,” but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes were bright again, focused entirely on the peanut butter and banana mush in front of him, and for the first time since the fire, he looked— if not okay, then at least calm.

“Okay, Evy,” Bobby said gently, brushing a hand over his curls, “we’re just gonna be over there, alright? You stay here and finish your snacks. You’re doing a great job, bud.”

Evy gave a big, exaggerated thumbs up with his sticky hand. “I eat all of it!” he promised.

Bobby chuckled and motioned to Eddie. They stepped a few feet away, out of Evy’s line of focus but still close enough to jump in if he needed anything. Eddie glanced back once, watching as Evy dipped his finger straight into the peanut butter jar and then made a quiet little “vroom” sound with the cracker boat again.

Then he turned to Bobby, jaw tight, voice low.

“What the hell is going on?”

Bobby sighed. “It’s… complicated .”

Eddie folded his arms. “Try me.”

Bobby leaned against the edge of the fridge, watching Evy for a moment like he was gathering his thoughts. “It’s called age regression. It usually happens when someone’s overwhelmed or under a lot of emotional stress. They mentally retreat to a younger age where they felt safe—before the weight of everything.”

Eddie stared at him, processing.

“So… this has happened before?”

Bobby nodded slowly. “Once. Maybe twice. Not like this, though. Not this deep.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Eddie’s voice cracked, but he kept it low so Evy wouldn’t hear.

“It wasn’t mine to tell,” Bobby said gently. “Buck— Evy —he’s ashamed of it. He’s scared of what people would think. He only ever told Maddie and me.”

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, then stared down at his boots. “He called me ‘daddy.’ I thought— God, Chim thought we were doing some kinky—” He stopped himself and looked away, cheeks burning.

Bobby gave him a knowing look. “That wasn’t you he was talking to. That was Evy. That was a scared little kid reaching for the safest person he could find.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “That safe person is me? ”

“You’re who he trusts,” Bobby said simply. “Even if he didn’t tell you this part of himself… you’re the one his mind reached for. That says something.”

Eddie didn’t speak for a long moment. He was watching Evy again, who had started licking peanut butter straight off the knife now, smiling like the world hadn’t just caved in around them hours ago.

“Do I need to babyproof my house?” Eddie asked suddenly, like the thought had just hit him full-force.

Bobby blinked. “What?”

“Like, do I need outlet covers? Or those little foam corner things on the table? Should I hide the scissors?” Eddie’s eyes were wide, serious. “Is he gonna try to climb my kitchen cabinets? Should I buy crayons? Do I need to get juice boxes or something—?”

“Eddie,” Bobby interrupted, laughing under his breath, “you don’t need to turn your house into a preschool. He’s not actually three. He’s just… thinking like he is.”

“Right,” Eddie muttered. “So I can’t exactly buckle him into a car seat.”

Bobby grinned. “No. Though I’d pay to see you try.”

Eddie groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “This is insane.”

“It’s different, ” Bobby corrected. “But it’s not insane. It’s just another way his brain is coping. And it doesn’t make him any less Buck.”

Eddie slowly nodded, taking that in. He glanced back at Evy again. The man-child had finished one of the graham crackers and was now lining banana slices up on the counter like toy soldiers.

“He’s gonna be so embarrassed when he snaps out of this,” Eddie said quietly.

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed. “But he’s lucky to have you.”

Eddie’s voice softened. “I just want to do this right. I want him to feel safe.”

“Then you’re already doing it right.”

Evy suddenly looked up and shouted, “’Scuse me! I need more nanas!”

Eddie smiled despite himself. “Coming, sweetheart.”

He stepped forward, already grabbing another banana from the fruit bowl.

Yeah. It wasn’t going to be easy. But for Buck— for Evy —he’d figure it out.

Even if that meant keeping a stash of juice boxes and peanut butter in his kitchen forever.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The loft was dim, bathed in the soft gold of the afternoon light that bled through the blinds. The firehouse had finally quieted. Chim and Hen had gone home. Bobby had retreated to his office, giving them space. And Eddie— Eddie hadn’t moved in over an hour.

Buck was curled up on top of him like a weighted blanket. His breath was warm where it ghosted against Eddie’s collarbone, slow and steady with the kind of heaviness that only came after a storm. His arms were tucked tightly against his chest, his knees drawn up slightly like he was trying to make himself smaller even in sleep.

Eddie hadn’t dared move.

He’d just held him.

There had been something grounding in the way Evy had clung to him before slipping into sleep. Something achingly innocent. Eddie had wrapped his arms around him without hesitation, one hand resting lightly on his back, the other gently running through his curls until Evy’s sniffles had evened out and his body had gone heavy with exhaustion.

It didn’t feel strange anymore. Just fragile. Like something he needed to protect.

Eddie’s hand was still in Buck’s hair when Buck stirred.

It was subtle at first—the way his fingers twitched, the furrow of his brow, the sharp inhale. Then his head lifted slowly, groggy and confused.

“Buck?” Eddie whispered, instinctively soft.

Buck blinked at him, still not fully awake, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Then— like a switch —the confusion sharpened into something more aware. His gaze darted down to the position they were in, to the way he was practically draped across Eddie’s chest like a child.

And Eddie felt it—the moment Buck realized.

Buck jerked upright as if burned, scrambling away from him, limbs tangled in the blanket that had been thrown over them. His back hit the arm of the couch, and he stayed there, breathing hard, eyes wide.

“ Shit, ” Buck whispered, voice raw. “Oh my god.”

“Buck,” Eddie said gently, sitting up but not moving closer. “It’s okay—”

“I— no, I didn’t—” Buck’s hands flew up to his face, trying to cover himself, hide from the world. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t mean to—Eddie, I’m so sorry. ”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice stayed calm. “It’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I called you—” Buck’s voice cracked. “ God, I called you daddy. In front of everyone. I—I couldn’t stop it, I didn’t even know—”

“Buck.”

Buck froze.

Eddie leaned forward just slightly, elbows on his knees, his eyes steady. “You were hurting. That’s all I saw. Someone I love hurting.”

Buck looked away. His throat bobbed. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that. With me like that.”

“You think I haven’t seen you hurting before?” Eddie asked softly. “This was different, yeah. But you were safe. You are safe.”

Buck’s eyes filled again, but he held them back, wiping furiously at his face.

Eddie wanted to reach out so badly, but he didn’t. He waited.

And after a long pause, Buck finally whispered, “You shouldn’t have had to see that part of me.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet. “I’m glad I did.”

Buck looked at him again, startled. “Why?”

“Because now I get to love all of you,” Eddie said simply. “Even the parts you think you have to hide.”

And for a long time, Buck just stared at him.

Then he lowered his head into his hands and started to cry again—quiet this time, overwhelmed in a whole different way.

Eddie didn’t push. He just sat with him.

He would learn. For Buck. For Evy.

For all the versions of the man he loved.

Eddie reached out, slow and gentle, like he was approaching a frightened animal. Buck didn’t flinch this time—he just sat there, breathing unevenly, eyes still glassy with tears he was trying not to let fall.

Eddie slipped his arms around him and pulled him in.

At first, Buck didn’t react. He stayed tense in Eddie’s embrace, shoulders tight, hands limp in his lap. But then Eddie’s hand moved up to the back of Buck’s neck, his fingers threading into his curls, and he pressed a soft, firm kiss to Buck’s forehead.

Buck let out a shaky breath and sagged into him, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder.

“You could’ve told me,” Eddie whispered, lips brushing against his temple. “You didn’t have to carry it alone.”

“I was scared,” Buck said, voice muffled. “I thought— I thought you’d leav e. Or look at me differently. That it’d be too weird, or too much .”

Eddie shook his head, tightening his hold. “I’d never leave you. Not for that. Not for anything.”

Buck let out a choked laugh, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. “You say that now…”

“I say that always, ” Eddie said, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “Buck, I’m not going anywhere. Okay? I love you. And if Evy’s a part of you—then he’s part of what I love too .”

Buck’s bottom lip trembled. “But it’s… it’s not normal. I’m not— normal .”

Eddie gave him a small smile, thumb brushing a tear off his cheek. “Since when have we ever done anything the normal way?”

Buck let out a watery laugh. “That’s… fair.”

Eddie rested his forehead against Buck’s. “You’re not too much. Not for me. Never for me.”

And Buck believed him. For the first time, he let himself believe it.

He leaned into the warmth of Eddie’s touch, the safety of his arms, and for a few seconds, he let go of the shame that had weighed him down for so long.

“Thank you,” Buck whispered.

Eddie kissed his temple again. “Always.”

They sat there for a while in silence, Buck curled into Eddie’s side like he belonged there, like maybe this time he wouldn’t talk himself out of being held. Eddie rubbed slow circles into his back, letting Buck’s breathing settle against him.

“You hungry?” Eddie asked eventually, his voice low.

Buck shrugged. “A little.”

Eddie smiled. “Well, you did go through half a bag of goldfish crackers as a grown man with the mind of a toddler.”

Buck groaned into Eddie’s chest. “Don’t remind me.”

Eddie chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “It was kind of cute, honestly.”

Buck lifted his head just enough to look at him. “Seriously?”

Eddie raised a brow. “You were wearing your 6’2” body and crying because Bobby wouldn’t let you stir the mac and cheese. I think I earned the right to call it cute.”

Buck let out a laugh—quiet, but real. “God. Chim probably thinks I’m completely unhinged.”

“Chim thinks everyone is unhinged. He thrives on chaos.” Eddie pulled him a little closer. “Besides, he doesn’t know what it was. None of them do.”

Buck looked up again, hesitation in his eyes. “Do you think I should tell them? Hen? Chim?”

Eddie hesitated, then said honestly, “When you’re ready. But I think if they knew what I know now, they’d only want to help.”

Buck nodded slowly, leaning back against him, forehead pressing lightly to Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s just… hard. I’ve always felt like I had to be strong, you know? Like I have to hold it together or else I’ll fall apart in front of everyone.”

“You don’t have to hold it together for me,” Eddie said. “You don’t even have to hold it together for yourself—not all the time.”

Buck closed his eyes.

Eddie watched him with soft eyes, the kind of gaze that had nothing but patience in it.

“Can I ask you something?” Buck mumbled.

“Anything.”

“Were you… freaked out?”

Eddie thought about it for a long moment. “I was confused. I was scared for you. But no—I wasn’t freaked out.”

Buck pulled back, just slightly, enough to see his face. “Why not?”

Eddie smiled. “Because it was still you. Just a part of you I hadn’t met yet.”

And Buck… didn’t know what to say to that. So he said nothing at all. He just let himself be held.

Across the room, the golden light had shifted, casting long shadows on the floor. It felt like the kind of silence you only got after surviving something. And maybe that’s what this was—survival. A softer kind.

Buck didn’t know what would happen next.

But right now, he was wrapped up in someone who wasn’t afraid of his broken parts.

And that was more than enough.