Archive of Our Own

Buck stared at himself in his mirror, turning his body this way and that, frowning as he took himself in. He didn’t look much different than he normally did, with one small exception. He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers along the scars branching off from the base of his neck and down over his collarbone and chest. His stomach turned over. His frown deepened. 

He’d known it would scar. The doctor had called it a battle scar, saying he was lucky to be walking away with just that. A coma was nothing to laugh about, and if Buck was being honest, he did feel lucky. A little too lucky. The scars, conveniently shaped like little lightning bolts, were stark reminders of the very thing he never should have survived. It was a little too poetic, if you asked him.

Buck shook himself, taking one last look at the brownish purple scars before tugging his t-shirt over his head and brushing his hands down the front. He was being ridiculous. The scars were a part of him, just like his tattoos or his abs or the small birthmark on his eyebrow. They were part of what made him Buck , and he was sure he’d get used to them eventually. He just hated whatever feeling was now settling uncomfortably in his stomach. 

He made his way to his kitchen, cooking himself up some eggs and bacon and toast. He needed his strength today. First days back always tended to be crazy busy, and though Buck was cleared by his doctors and physically felt rearing to go, there was that little voice in the back of his mind that always said the most awful things, telling him that nothing would make him strong enough to do his job and he might as well give up now. He was determined to do the exact opposite of what the voice wanted. 

When he pulled up to the firehouse an hour later, he sat in his car for a solid ten minutes before getting up the courage to go inside. That stupid little voice wouldn’t shut up, no matter how loud he blasted his music on the way in. 

As Buck walked towards the firehouse, he could feel the fabric of his shirt rubbing against his chest. It almost felt like his lightning scars were burning through his shirt, on display for the world to see. The idea made him very uneasy for some reason, but he pushed that feeling away. He needed to focus. 

“Buck, you’re here!”

Buck heard Eddie before he saw him, and the knot in his stomach lessened significantly. Eddie had been at his loft almost every hour that he wasn’t on the clock, but to see him here, at work, where Buck was fully ready to be, felt different. 

A chorus of greetings reached him, and he was suddenly surrounded by his entire team, all of them clamoring for hugs. Once he’d gotten to everyone, somehow hitting Eddie twice, he smiled, feeling fully relaxed for the first time since he’d woken up from his coma. 

“It’s so good to be back here,” he said with a satisfied sigh. 

“We’re happy to have you back, kid,” Bobby said. “But that doesn’t mean slacking off for the rest of you. Come on, let’s get to work.”

Hen, Chimney, and Bobby all split off to start their chores, but Eddie stayed with Buck as he made his way towards the lockers. 

“How are you?” Eddie asked as Buck dumped his bag in his locker and pulled out his button up work shirt. Buck wasn’t exactly a fan of that question, and Eddie was fully aware of that, but it didn’t feel placating this time. It felt like Eddie could see right through him, that he knew something was wrong. But Buck himself barely knew what was wrong, so there was no way to answer without it sounding like a lie. 

He whipped his t-shirt off over his head and tossed it into his locker, like he always did. This time, however, he caught Eddie staring. Buck looked from Eddie and then down at his own chest, where his scar was. His stomach dropped, and he felt a strange sense of shame. He pulled on a tank top quickly and buttoned up his shirt with shaking hands.

“I’m fine. Ready to work, you know me. I hate sitting around like I’ve been doing the last few weeks.”

“You were in a coma, Buck. You were literally dead for-”

“Three minutes and seventeen seconds, yes, I know,” Buck said with a sigh. “Eddie, I swear I’m fine. I just want to get back to normal.”

“Okay. If you say so,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes slightly, like he didn’t quite believe him. Buck knew Eddie meant well, knew he was just trying to make sure Buck wasn’t pushing away his pain or his emotions, but it now felt a little overbearing. He really was fine. This was just first day back jitters. 

He pulled on his boots and stood, following Eddie out into the firehouse and grabbing his spray bottle. He and Eddie were always on window-cleaning duty, because they had somehow convinced Cap that it was a two person job. It felt freeing to be doing something so routine, and he slowly fell into a conversation about basketball with Eddie, the weird feeling from before fading into nothing. He was just overthinking, like he always did. Everything was fine. Great, really. He was finally back where he belonged.

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Over the next few days, Buck fell back into his work life with ease. He did his first 24 hour shift since the coma, climbed his first ladder since getting struck, and had absolutely no issues with any of the rescuing. He felt on top of the world. 

That was, of course, until he was in the weight room with Chimney and Hen and a few others from their shift. He’d taken off his hoodie after a decent few sets, and Chimney had whistled through his teeth. 

“Damn, Buck, those look nasty!”

Buck’s throat tightened immediately. He looked down at the scars peeking out over the edge of his tank top.

“Don’t listen to him, Buck. They actually look super cool. You know, the whole dying to get them notwithstanding,” Hen amended quickly. “Do they hurt?”

Buck shook his head. “Umm … no, not really.”

That wasn’t strictly true. They weren’t painful, but every time Buck moved, he could feel them, like there was still lightning beneath his skin, searching for a way out. Touching them made him feel sick. He knew it would pass eventually, but right now, almost every moment, waking or sleeping, he was thinking about how he’d gotten them. About his own mortality. About how he had this strange feeling that he had stolen someone else’s life and he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“You should show them off more often, Buckley,” said one of the other firefighters from a few machines away. “They give you a bit of a macho cool dude look.”

“Yeah,” Buck said, laughing even as his insides felt like they were curling in on themselves. He reached for his hoodie and pulled it back over his head. His hands were shaking, even as he lay back and gripped the bar above him. He didn’t know what was going on with him, but he did know that he had a workout to complete, and he was going to do just that, despite the weird looks Chimney and Hen were both shooting him.

He focused on his reps, counting them as loudly as he could in his head, hoping that it would distract him, but it didn’t. He finished his workout early, took a quick shower, and then planted himself down on the bench by the lockers, elbows on his knees and staring at nothing.

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck looked up to see Bobby sitting down next to him. He towelled over his still wet hair, wishing it would dry faster.

“Hey, Cap.”

There was a moment of silence before Bobby spoke. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been a little closed off since coming back. Wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it.”

Buck shook his head. He was fine . “I’m fine, Cap. Just getting back into the groove.”

Bobby gave him the same look Eddie had given him that first day back. “Okay. I believe you. Just know you can talk to me. About anything.”

“I know, Bobby.” Buck considered, in that moment, telling Bobby everything. About how out of place he felt in his body. How he couldn’t stop thinking about his scars. How he had barely slept since coming out of his coma because his dreams were full of bright white light and pain and the feeling of his heart sitting dormant in his chest. How he felt like he didn’t deserve to be alive. But those were all just temporary things that Buck had to get over by himself. There was nothing Bobby or anyone else could do to help him with that. It was his journey and his alone. “But I’m fine, really.”

“Okay, kid. If you say-” The bell went off, and Bobby gave him a half smile. “Come on, then, let’s go.”

Buck had never been more grateful for an interruption. 

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His arm started to feel weird as they were winding up the hoses. 

The rest of the 118 were talking animatedly, cleaning up the area and making sure they had all the gear back on the truck. Buck and Eddie were on hose duty, which was Buck’s least favorite job, but it meant that he didn’t have to participate in conversation. He was exhausted.

As he hoisted the hose up to Eddie, who was folding it back into position, a muscle in his shoulder twinged. Buck shook it out and continued to hand the hose up to Eddie, but by the time there was only a few feet left, his shoulder was aching. He paused, rolling his shoulder back and forth a few times, trying not to let his brain run away with it.

But it was too late. He was already well on the path to the worst case scenario. He should have known it was all too good to be true. He’d come out of his coma aching, sure, but it had all melted away in the weeks that he’d been recovering. Now, it seemed, reality was catching up with him. He knew how it would go – first his shoulder, then his arm and hand, and then he’d be finished. No more being a firefighter. No more helping people. Muscle deterioration was a thing that victims of lightning strikes experienced sometimes, and it was the thing Buck had been most afraid of. His leg injury years ago had almost ruined his career, and now he was here. Was this the price he was paying for being alive? Was this going to be what took him away from the job? From his team? From Eddie?

“Buck, where’s the rest?” Eddie called from above him. Buck jumped, his thoughts releasing their hold on him. He cleared his throat and lifted it up to him, his hands trembling. What was happening to him? He’d always been so good at keeping things compartmentalized.

Eddie jumped down from the top of the rig, looking at Buck with mild concern. “You alright? Kinda zoned out on me there.”

Buck nodded, probably too enthusiastically for it to be believable. “Yeah, yeah, I just … got lost in my thoughts.”

Eddie simply nodded. “Totally get that. We better get in, though, or Cap’ll leave us behind. 

Buck followed Eddie to the door and climbed in, leaning his head back against the headrest. He wanted nothing more than to go home and crash, but he still had six more hours to go.

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“Come on, Buck, we’re waiting!”

“Yeah, I’m starving!”

“Alright, I’m coming. God, you’re like impatient children,” Buck grumbled as he set a stack of plates at the end of the table. He’d drawn the short straw and been put on dinner duty tonight, but he didn’t mind it. It gave Bobby a break, anyway. And cooking, surprisingly, got him out of his head a little. People pulled muscles on the job all the time. People almost died on the job all the time. It was the nature of the work they chose to do. It was just his turn to deal with that.  

Yeah, but no one else here has been struck by lightning , said that very unhelpful voice in the back of his head. He really, really hated that voice.  

Buck went back and forth several times, passing down the meat, warmed shells, and various toppings as everyone else dug in. Their satisfied smiles were enough to overshadow the anxiety that had been simmering since that morning. He ate his fair share, polishing off four tacos in under 30 minutes, and that chased away the queasiness in his stomach.

Buck looked up and caught Eddie’s eye. Eddie was looking at him a lot more often than he had before, and under any other circumstances, Buck would welcome his attention. But right now, it was like Eddie was checking to make sure he was still there, that he was actually alive, and that … made him feel even worse. 

Buck stood abruptly, gathering up the empty plates and heading for the sink. He’d do the dishes too, he didn’t mind. Anything to get away from Eddie’s probing glances and the now permanent feeling of no longer belonging.

As he went to place the stack of plates in the sink, however, his shoulder locked up completely. His hand went numb and he lost hold of the plates. They all clattered into the sink, silencing any discussion that was still happening at the table. Buck leaned heavily against the sink, gasping as pain radiated down his arm and across his chest. 

Fuck, not this again. 

Buck closed his eyes, trying to breathe in through his nose. Just a pulled muscle, just a pulled muscle.

“You okay, Buck?”

Bobby’s voice sounded so far away. Buck tried to breathe, but there didn’t seem to be enough room in his lungs. 

No. He could not do this here. Not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Eddie.

He swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat, the pain slowly ebbing away. “Yeah, Cap,” Buck said, trying to inject as much good-natured humor into his voice. “They slipped. It’s fine, I’ve got them.”

Buck kept his back to them, scrubbing at the dishes with almost too much pressure, his focus purely on the task at hand and absolutely not on the ever-encroaching fear that he was experiencing the end of his career in slow motion.

“You sure you’re alright, Buck?” Chimney asked as he placed his plate in the sink. 

“Yeah, fine,” Buck said shortly, taking his plate and starting to wipe it clean.

“Sometimes lightning strike victims have muscle spasms. I can massage it out for you if you ne-”

“I said I’m fine , Chim,” Buck snapped, terror clogging his throat. The thought of Chimney touching his shoulder, seeing and feeling his scars, forcing Buck to confront them yet again, it was too much. All of this was too much. 

“Sorry I brought it up,” Chimney said quietly, a bit of a bite to his voice, and Buck’s stomach dropped with guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck said quickly. “I’m just … it’s been a long day. I didn’t mean to-”

But Chimney had already walked away, towards Hen and the extra video game controller. Bobby and Eddie were still eating, and Buck looked away quickly, not wanting Eddie to catch the frustrated tears burning in his eyes. 

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The rain fell in his face, obscuring his vision, but Buck was used to weather playing a factor in their rescues. He reached the top of the ladder and looked up into the dark, cloud-filled sky. He squinted, wiping the rain out of his eyes. 

“What is that …” he muttered aloud, a rumble of thunder accompanying his words. 

A flash of blinding white.

A second, barely, of excruciating pain, like he was on fire from the inside out.

And then … nothing. 

His body, useless. 

His lungs, empty.

His heart, not beating. 

Buck sat straight up in his bed, a storm raging against the windows of his loft. He gulped in lungfuls of air, pressing a frantic hand to his chest. There was his heartbeat, faithfully pounding on. He was alive. He was here, safe in his bed, and he was alive.

And his shoulder was on fire.

Buck let out a pained groan and reached for it with his other hand, hoping the pressure of his own touch would soothe it, but it did nothing. He imagined that he could feel the ridges of his scars, like they were trying to press their way out of his chest. Touching them felt like a violation of his own body. He flopped back down on his bed, tears coming quickly to his eyes. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted everything to stop hurting so damn much.

There was a knock on his door, followed immediately by a crack of lightning and an immediate rumble of thunder. Buck shuddered and dragged himself from his bed. He stumbled down the stairs, only vaguely wondering who would be knocking on his door at nearly midnight.

He should have known Eddie would be on the other side. He opened his mouth to say something but Eddie just smiled and nudged his way into Buck’s loft, one hand on a case of beer and the other hand holding a half-soaked bag of burgers.

Buck closed the door and stared at Eddie, who was pulling plates from the cabinet and popping the caps off the beer, dripping water steadily onto the floor.

“Eddie, what … what are you doing here?” Buck finally managed to ask, taking a few steps into the kitchen.

“Thought you could use a midnight snack,” Eddie said, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes. 

“Did you swim here?” Buck asked, and Eddie’s chuckle went straight to his chest, warming the iciness that had settled there since waking up. 

“Nah, but that rain is pretty nasty. It decided to dump on me just as I was getting out of the truck. I did my best to protect the food. No one likes a soggy burger.”

Buck was tempted to agree with him, but he was still confused. It didn’t make sense … Eddie didn’t know that Buck barely slept anymore. He didn’t know that Buck often woke from his nightmares ravenous, for whatever reasons. He didn’t know that Buck had been craving burgers today. 

He might have asked all that if he wasn’t completely distracted by Eddie’s hair hanging in his eyes. He looked … well, he always looked good, but right now he looked utterly delectable. There would be no concentrating for Buck if Eddie continued to look this good. He turned and hurried back up his stairs, coming back with sweats, a t-shirt, and a towel.

“At least dry yourself off before you sit on my couch,” he said. Eddie grinned and took the steps two at a time, heading for the bathroom. Buck watched him go, digging a thumb into his shoulder muscle, which was still aching. He’d nearly forgotten about it in the midst of Eddie’s arrival, but now that he was no longer distracted, it was back in full force. 

Buck went and settled himself on the couch, rolling his shoulder and wincing with every movement until he heard Eddie close the door to the bathroom. Moments later, Eddie was walking towards him with their plates and beers. Buck had really made a mistake in giving Eddie his clothes. Now he just looked like Buck’s , and Buck knew that wasn’t and would never be the case.

“Where’s Chris?” Buck asked, hoping to distract Eddie from the grimace he was definitely making as he took his plate and beer.

“Got a babysitter,” Eddie said, flopping down next to Buck like they did this every night. They kind of did, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Why are you really here?”

Eddie, who had just been munching on his burger, completely at ease, blushed and swallowed. “It’s the first major storm since … that night. I thought you might not want to be alone.”

And that … that was not what Buck was expecting him to say at all. He stared at Eddie, his beer bottle halfway to his mouth, and Eddie’s cheeks grew redder under his gaze. God, he was beautiful.

No. Bad Buck. Eddie is not yours, he chastised in his mind.

“I …” Buck put his beer down, wincing at the stretch in his shoulder. Eddie’s eyes followed his movement. What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to interpret that? Best friends did that for each other, right? Right?

“Your shoulder has been bothering you all day,” Eddie said calmly, like it was a fact that Buck had shared with him instead of an observation. Buck supposed there was no point in lying to him now. 

“Yeah. It’s … it started with the hose, and just got worse.”

Eddie’s mouth turned down slightly at the corners. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know why,” Buck mumbled. He was grateful, at least, that he didn’t have to explain himself to Eddie most of the time. Eddie just … got him.

“Muscle spasms are common after lightning strikes,” Eddie continued. “Your body has been through trauma, Buck. Everyone reacts differently to that.”

“I know. I just …”

“Got it into your head that your life was over because of a minor muscle pull and spasm,” Eddie finished for him. Buck nodded pathetically, and Eddie let out a huffed laugh. “Predictable as always, Buck.”

“I haven’t slept a full night since the coma,” Buck blurted out suddenly. He didn’t know what made him say it. Maybe it was the way Eddie was still calm, not getting angry at Buck for not confiding in him. Maybe it was the storm scaring him into admission. Maybe he just couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

Eddie took a sip of his beer, waiting, and Buck’s words spilled out of him without preamble.

“I keep … remembering it. The moments before the strike. And then it’s all gone, and I’m … I’m stuck in my body and my heart isn’t beating and I can’t get out.” Buck could feel his chest tightening just thinking about it. “And then I wake up and I’m alive but I’m in pain and it doesn’t go away, and I … I-” Buck swallowed hard, trying in vain to push down his panic. “I hate them, Ed.”

“You hate what?” Eddie asked gently, moving a little closer to him in concern. 

“My scars.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “But … why?”

“Because they’re just a reminder that I shouldn’t be here. That lightning should have killed me. It did kill me. And every time I see them or touch them I feel sick. I feel … ashamed.”

“Buck …”

Buck hated how pained Eddie’s voice was. This was why he didn’t want to talk about it. It made Eddie sad, and he’d spent too much time doing that lately. 

“I can’t live like this,” Buck whispered, his chest aching in tandem with his shoulder. “I can’t-”

“Buck, listen to me,” Eddie said, putting a hand on his knee. “There is no reason for you to be ashamed of anything. Those scars prove that you’re a survivor. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“Then why do I feel so shitty?” Buck’s lip was trembling now as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. He didn’t want to cry in front of Eddie. 

“I can’t answer that for you. But I’m here. If I can help in any way, you know you can tell me.”

Buck knew that. Of course he did. Eddie had always been there. He was one of the only people that hadn’t left him at one point or another. Buck trusted Eddie with his life. So why was showing vulnerability such an issue for him?

Buck breathed slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth, and Eddie nodded with a smile, not saying anything but not pulling away. His hand was warm against Buck’s knee. 

“My shoulder really fucking hurts,” Buck said with a wet laugh, and Eddie snorted. 

“Yeah, I kinda got that.”

Buck pressed his lips together, gearing himself up for what he knew he needed to ask. “Can you … would you maybe, uh … massage it?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “Of course. Did you … want to do that here?”

Buck nodded. The couch felt less intimate than his bed, and those were the two options he had. 

“Alright then. Lay down flat for me, okay? And … could you take off your shirt?”

Buck’s stomach flipped uncomfortably. “Umm …”

“It’s just easier to work when it’s skin to skin, that’s all,” Eddie said quickly, and Buck obliged slowly, feeling the fabric brush over his scars as his shirt went up and over his head. 

Sitting in front of Eddie shirtless was not an uncommon occurrence for them, but it felt different this time. Buck felt like he was very on display, and part of him was begging to curl up in a ball and hide. But his shoulder really fucking hurt, and he wanted that to stop. He lay down on his couch, stretching out until his feet were hanging over the arm. Eddie had stood and moved over to Buck’s head, and as he knelt down next to him, Buck locked eyes with him. Eddie’s eyes were bright and steady as he took Buck in. Buck’s stomach flipped again in a much different sense. 

“I’m going to feel around a bit, and you tell me where it hurts, okay?”

Buck nodded, swallowing back his nausea. Eddie’s steady fingers pressed into his skin, just next to the scars. Buck tried to breathe through the pain, his face scrunching. “There. Right there …”

“Right on the money on the first try,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “Okay, this might hurt at first, but just try to breathe through it. It will feel better, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” Buck said through gritted teeth, and he meant it. 

Eddie had meant it, too - it did hurt at first. Buck’s shoulder felt like it was being injected with acid, and he heard a pained noise escape his mouth, his other fist clenching around the fabric of his sweats. 

“You’re alright, Buck. I’m here,” Eddie murmured gently, his hands moving over Buck’s shoulder expertly, massaging the pain away. Slowly, very slowly, the pain ebbed into a dull ache. Even his fatigue headache seemed to recede, and Buck took his first full breath all day.

“Thank you,” he gasped, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment, savoring being mostly pain free. 

“It’s the least I could do. I hate seeing you like that.”

When Buck opened his eyes, he realized just how close Eddie was to him. It made his heart skip a beat. He could see every detail of his eyes. And what was more, Eddie’s hands were still on him, over his scars, touching him like it was nothing. And Buck … didn’t feel like hurling. For the first time since he’d been hyper aware of his scars, they didn’t feel wrong and gross.

“Eddie … you’re still …” Buck said, his words breathy.

Eddie’s brow furrowed, as though he hadn’t noticed what he was doing. “I didn’t … sorry.” But he still didn’t remove his hands

Buck’s heart sped up, and Eddie smirked. Fuck, could Eddie feel his heartbeat ?

Buck wanted to kiss him. He could, in theory. Eddie was close enough that he could just lean in and …

“They’re beautiful,” Eddie said quietly, his fingers tracing over the scars on Buck’s chest. 

That was the final straw.

Buck surged forward, his hand sliding behind Eddie’s neck as he pulled him into a bruising kiss. Everything else seemed to disappear - the pain still lingering in his shoulder, the sound of the storm outside, all of it was gone. There was no coma, no lightning, no anxiety. It was just Buck, and just Eddie, and it was everything .

Eddie’s lips moved gently against Buck’s, pressing against them over and over, each kiss lingering slightly longer than the last. Buck never wanted to stop. He never wanted to go back to reality when this was so. Much. Better.

“Buck …” Eddie gasped against his lips, and Buck’s fingers curled almost instinctively into Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck. He let out a pleased hum, nipping at Eddie’s bottom lip. He wanted more. 

“Wait, wait …” 

Eddie pulled back, breathing a little heavier than he normally would. Buck felt a little floaty, but Eddie’s tone brought him quickly back down to earth. What had he just done ?

“Oh, god,” Buck said, sitting up abruptly and pressing himself into the back of the couch. “Eddie, I … I’m so sor-”

“Don’t …” Eddie said sharply. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Evan.”

Buck closed his mouth at once, the shock of hearing his first name stunning him into silence. 

“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t like that. That I didn’t want it. That I haven’t been waiting for it for fucking years. I wanted to kiss you, and I absolutely want to do so again, you hear me?”

Buck nodded silently, his lips still tingling. 

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Eddie spoke firmly, even with kiss swollen lips and slightly glassy eyes. “You’ve been through something, and I want to make sure that I’m not capitalizing on whatever you may be feeling right now. I …” Eddie licked his lips, which was not in any way helping Buck to focus on something other than wanting to kiss him some more. “I have wanted to kiss you for a very long time, and I want to do this right.”

Eddie sat back on his heels, the apples of his cheeks bright red. He was so beautiful like this. 

“I wanted to kiss you way before all of this,” Buck began. “It wasn’t just because of the whole lightning thing … well, maybe a little, but only in the sense that I feel like I’ve been given a chance that I might not deserve, and I don’t want to waste it.” He hadn’t even realized he was thinking that until the words came out of his mouth, but he knew them to be true, and Eddie was nodding, like he understood. “You have cared about me in ways that no one ever has, and you never seemed to question it. And I’m so used to people deciding later that I’m not actually worth their time, so I just … tried not to think about it. But Eddie, I …”

Buck searched for the words that would truly encapsulate exactly how he felt. Eddie reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together. The touch grounded him. 

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I don’t know who I’d be without you. You’re my best friend. You’re my favorite person, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel otherwise, especially recently. It’s hard, umm, to show the rawest parts of yourself to people. Especially when you’re afraid that it will scare them away.”

Eddie’s eyes were shining, a lone tear sliding down his cheek. Buck wanted to kiss it away. 

“You are so special, Buck. I hope you know that.” Eddie sniffed and smiled. “And now that we’ve got all that out of the way … I’d really like to kiss you again, if you’ll let me.”

It was only then, as those words came out of Eddie’s mouth, that Buck fully realized that this was happening. He’d been so scared of losing Eddie in more ways than one, and now that he knew for sure that he wasn’t, his body could relax. His mind could let go of all of those what ifs . He could just exist in this reality, the one where he’d almost died and come back and Eddie wanted him back. The bad and the good. He deserved to have the good too.

“Oh, thank god,” Buck blurted out, and Eddie laughed as he pushed himself forward to meet Buck in another kiss.

“You’re amazing,” Eddie mumbled as his lips kissed down Buck’s jaw, following the line of his neck. Buck let out a small gasp as Eddie’s mouth pressed over his scars. He lingered there, waiting, it seemed, for permission. Buck’s hand slid back into his hair – his new favorite place to be – and Eddie continued, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his shoulder and over his chest. His touch was like a thousand little strings of electricity, tingling in the best possible way. 

“Eddie … please,” Buck whispered, and Eddie pulled away, looking up at him with wide, blown out pupils. “Need to kiss you again.”

“Gladly,” Eddie said, and then their lips were crashing together again. Buck kissed him and kissed him until he physically could not breathe anymore, and when he finally pulled away, Eddie leaned their foreheads together. 

“I’m so grateful that you’re here.”

Buck nudged their noses together. “Me too.”

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