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Buck hadn’t meant to ask.
The words had slipped out as Eddie stood by the couch, blanket in hand, the same way he had every night since returning from Texas. “ You can sleep in my bed, if you want. ” And now they were here, back-to-back, not touching, not sleeping.
Chris was down the hall, asleep in his own room, the one Buck had never quite brought himself to change in the quiet hope that maybe Chris would need it again someday, even if only for a visit.
Behind him, Eddie coughs. Side effects of collapsing buildings, too much dust in the air. He would have been fine had he not shoved his respirator into Buck’s hands when his cracked one gave out. The taste of dust still lingers in Buck’s throat even after half a bottle of mouthwash.
“Are you ok?” Buck asks into the dark.
“Yeah.” A pause. “You?”
“I think I’ll be tasting drywall for the rest of my life, but other than that, great.”
“Maybe the next time you decide to get trapped inside a collapsing building, make sure you’ve got a working respirator, yeah?”
Buck snorts, amused. “Noted.”
Silence stretches again. The bed creaks when Eddie shifts, and then his voice cuts through the quiet, softer than before.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“I know.” He turns onto his other side to face Eddie who is lying flat on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t even supposed to be there,” Eddie says, voice low. “I only went to the station to ask Gerrard for my old job back,”
That’s new. Buck hadn’t known. They hadn’t talked about whether Eddie was staying. And he hadn’t really thought about why or how Eddie had shown up, wearing turnouts that weren’t his, to pull him out of that building.
“Then I found out what was happening,” Eddie continues, “and all I could think was, this is Bobby all over again. I’m going to lose you and I won’t be there to do a damn thing about it.”
“You were there this time. That’s what counts.”
Eddie, still on his back, lets his head loll towards Buck and makes a noise in the back of his throat, not quite agreement, but not a scoff either, something in between.
“I was going to call you,” Buck confesses. Eddie turns onto his side to face him fully. “After I got Ravi out and the rest of the ceiling came down. I- I didn’t think I was getting out of there and I was thinking about what I would want people to know, if things had gone the other way.”
Buck looks past Eddie, eyes flitting to the window where light from the street outside seeps through the edges of the blinds. Eddie waits, letting him figure out the words he’s trying to say.
“I just needed to make sure you and Chris knew what you are to me.”
He hadn’t said it back. When Bobby had stood on the other side of the glass and said I love you, kid . Buck had pounded his fists against the glass, throat burning, but he hadn’t said it.
“We know, Buck.” They’ve both gravitated towards the center of the bed without meaning to. They’re not touching, but Buck can feel the heat of Eddie’s hands against his own where they’re almost brushing. “I would’ve known it even if you hadn’t said a word.”
Buck swallows, throat catching on the ever-present taste of soot and plaster. “Good.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Eddie says, voice fading under the weight of exhaustion. He yawns, then nudges the back of his hand against Buck’s and leaves it there. “Get some sleep.”
Buck doesn’t pull away. They lie like that, curled toward each other in the dark until they fall asleep.