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After packing his dirty clothes into his duffel bag, Buck stares into the emptiness of his locker for a few more minutes. He's washed his hair, face, and body, yet he still feels heavy from grime and soot. He's not thinking of anything really; he puts in the extra work to make sure his mind is wholly blank. He stares into the corner of the locker, at a smudge that resembles an exploded ink mark, and he tries to keep his mind as empty as possible. If he puts it to work, then all the space is oversaturated with loneliness that surrounds his grief and tenderness.
He cradles his fist in the palm of his other hand, pressing on the back of his knuckles to ease the twinges of pain. Everything hurts, but that's typical after a major-scale extraction like the explosion from today. His back aches, his knees feel heavy, and there's discomfort in his throat and eyes that he hopes is collateral from the rescues, and not something else. He takes a deep breath, balancing on the heels of his foot, front and back, front and back, before closing the locker. The emptiness is gone, and the bustle of the locker room fills his ears.
The b-shift prepares to take over as Buck cradles some courage in his chest to navigate his way around them and exit the locker room. He's probably the last person out of there because he decided to take his time in the shower, scrubbing away the filthy mud from earlier and purposefully pressing deeply on the bruises etching his abdomen. Everyone's gone home to their families, and he stayed longer to feel the ghosts of his. He swings the duffel bag over his shoulder, pushing his car keys into the pockets of his sweatpants, and then he stops outside the fire station.
Eddie leans against the brick walls of the entrance, his white Henley smudged into a messy shade of gray and black from the explosion earlier. His usual gelled-back hair delicately falls over his face, making his eyes appear darker than they are when he turns around to look at Buck. His face is covered in grime, he's clean-shaven, but from the dirt, it's hard to tell. He gives Buck an almost sheepish smile, and Buck grips onto his sweatshirt.
Eddie pushes himself off the wall and takes the few steps to close the distance between them, walking straight towards Buck's heart, but he doesn't quite reach it. He clears his throat and smiles again before speaking, "I, uh, took an Uber."
Buck's lips quirk up at his gravelly voice, and he's sure that his voice would match Eddie's. They've been practically screaming all afternoon, trying to locate more civilians who were stuck in the buildings, but there's a different hoarseness in Buck's voice when he replies, "So, I'm your ride then?"
He tries for a humorous tone, one that shows that he's relieved about the events of the day, that he's glad that Eddie is deciding to stay. It doesn't matter because it comes out wrong, stilted, and manufactured. After all, he tried too hard to make it seem casual; he overdid his mannerisms in a way he never does with Eddie. He can tell it bothers the other man because Eddie's brows twitch just a little, something that's impossible to notice unless you know him well, and Buck does. The microexpression is gone in a second, before he nods and holds his hand out for the keys. Buck hands them over; he's in pain and there's distress weighing on his shoulder he doesn't want to think about, so yeah, he doesn't feel like driving.
Eddie grabs the keys from his hands, and for a second, their hands are touching. They fist-bumped earlier, but it was through gloves, so it wasn't possible to make out Eddie's skin from the layers. Now, he can feel Eddie's warmth, and maybe if they were closer, he could hear his breath too, and if Eddie let him, he could hold his wrist and memorize his heartbeat. Just to make sure he was alright.
They're silent on the drive back home. The scene is so familiar; it used to be so habitual between the two of them. Finishing up 24-hour shifts and driving home together to put on movies and share cases of beer, or even build forts with Christopher. Sometimes, they'll follow each other in their different vehicles; other times, they'll take turns driving while the other puts on some cheesy music. Buck likes to explore different pop playlists, and Eddie rolls his eyes whenever Buck belts out of tune. Now, there's only stillness in the jeep.
Buck scratches over his thighs, shifting around in his seat to not putting too much pressure on his back. It hurts; before, it was only an ache, now it seems to have gotten exacerbated from the discomfort he feels within. Instead of making an effort to fill the silence, Buck decides to find some mental stability from the only things moving in the truck: Eddie's hands. His hands are lightly grasping onto the wheel, turning it around whenever they change direction. They're big, bigger than Buck's, and Buck finds a semblance of comfort from that. Eddie is dependable, with his big hands and broad shoulders. He often catches Buck with those same hands, and when he struggles, he uses his thumb to press onto that spot on his collarbone to reassure him. Eddie's hands are nice, they're rough because they're firefighters, and they have to do messy work. Buck wonders how it would feel to hold his hand instead of bumping it. If Eddie's generosity would spread to him like a disease, or maybe the warmth he radiates would finally reach Buck's heart, and he'd feel it beat in unison with Eddie's.
Eddie's right hand strays away from the wheel, and Buck almost shakes when it comes to squeeze at his shoulder. His eyes widen, and he looks up at Eddie, who stares at him with a concerned look in his eyes. He realizes that they're home, and the front porch light is off. His hand is hot on Buck's shoulder, the back of it still covered in dirt, but it's nice.
"You okay, bud?" Eddie asks him, and he's so sweet. Honey lacing around the worry in his voice, his eyebrows wrinkle together in worry, and his lips curl into a small frown, which Buck wishes he could mend. Buck nods once, and then again, dipping his head down towards his thighs and taking a deep breath. He hears Eddie hum in reply and takes his hand back, as Buck has to grip onto his thighs to hold back his whine from the loss of contact. He grabs his duffel back from the backseat and hurries out of the jeep, desperate to avoid another touch. His mind is so loud, almost like static that bounces around from one corner to the other like a balloon that's slowly losing air.
He walks to the front, knowing that his keys are with the car keys, but he's still surprised when Eddie presses a hand on his lower back to twist around him and unlock the door. He pats Buck's back once, and then again when Buck freezes up, before opening up the door for them both. Eddie pulls his hand away, again, and enters the dark house. It's empty, and it's a bit warm, but Buck stays waiting at the entrance before forcing himself to enter. He follows Eddie's back muscles as he stretches his arms and yawns, as his Henley quirks up just a little bit.
He hears himself ask, "Where's Chris?"
Eddie twists his neck around to look at Buck, almost surprised to hear him speak before replying, "I asked Pepa to take him for the night, I didn't know when we'd be back, honestly."
Buck nods at that and dumps his duffel bag at the entrance. Having no Christopher in the house means that there's no buffer between him and Eddie. That means that they're alone together, listening to the sound of each other's breaths, and winces, until one of them drops a conversational bomb that will lead to another argument. It would mean acknowledging the elephant in the room, how Eddie isn't leaving, how he won't be going back to El Paso, and instead staying in their house for another night.
Buck bites on his lower lip for just a second before releasing a quivering breath. His heart feels so heavy, and his eyes feel so grainy, like all the dust from earlier is still coating over his vision and reaching the crevices of his skull to fill him up with this itchy sensation. He wants to cry, he wants to shout and yell at Eddie for no real reason, he wants to bury his face into his neck and breathe in his scent to reassure himself of his presence. He wants so much, maybe too much, because he knows if he stays in silence between this moment and the rest, something he's buried deep in his chest will explode, and he won't be able to control himself anymore. He doesn't want everything inside of him to implode over the carefully crafted rhythm they've tuned for each other. So, it's easier for Eddie to make the first move.
"Buck," he starts, and it's kind, it's Eddie, and from the tone, he can tell he's giving him an out, "We'll talk tomorrow, okay? I'm going to take a shower. I think Pepa left us some food."
Buck nods and gives a shaky grin, but it's not genuine, and the smile Eddie gives him back doesn't quite reach his eyes. Eddie turns and hesitates for a moment, but shakes his head and rushes to the bathroom. Buck watches him go, and wants to go after him; he really wants to make sure he's alright, but he can't. He sits down on the couch, his back leaning towards his knees, and thinks about what to do when Eddie comes back, whether he should eat and shut himself up in his room, or he should wait for Eddie.
He stands up and heads to the kitchen, finding containers of pesto pasta and some side salad. He warms the pasta in the microwave and places a hefty portion of both on two separate plates. He grabs utensils from the drawer and stares at the plates on the counter. Eddie takes quick showers, especially after an exhausting shift. He knows that Eddie prefers to get into bed as quickly as possible and sleep all the annoyance off. So, it's only a couple more minutes before he hears the bathroom door open, and Eddie's walking into the kitchen.
It's a little intrusive how familiar the scene compares to their argument a couple of days ago, with Eddie waltzing into the kitchen and Buck grumbling at the counter, but there's a different kind of pressure in the air. Buck looks up from the plates, just a little bit, to observe the white shirt Eddie's sporting, and how he's changed into grey sweatpants. He looks clean now, doesn't look like he just completed an extraction, so it brings some relief to Buck's chest. He hands a plate over to Eddie, their fingers touching for a short moment, and Buck's ears tingle, before turning back to grab his plate. Eddie beats him to the chase, grabbing the plate from around him and turning around to place them both at the kitchen table. Buck opens and closes his fist, unsure what to do with the heat filling up the back of his neck.
So instead, he stands at the counter, facing away from Eddie.
"Is it your back?" Eddie asks him, and he doesn't reply, but he nods his head. He turns around slowly and looks at the table, not meeting his eyes. He leans gently against the counter, pressing it against his hip and sighing. He watches Eddie stand up from the table, grab both plates, and walk over to his side. He leans against the counter beside Buck, grunting under his breath. He hands the plate over to Buck and eats quietly. Buck nods and takes a few bites, trying to ignore the burst of heat inches away from his body. The pasta is good, he can tell Pepa's used the pesto he made last week, but it's salted perfectly and doesn't taste off like his usually does.
He doesn't realize how hungry he is until he gulps down the first few bites. The last time he ate was at the goodbye barbecue party for Eddie and Chris, and he couldn't stomach most of the food. He's stuffing bites into his mouth, and finishes in a couple of minutes, and he looks to the side to look at Eddie's half-finished plate on the counter. He quirks his eyebrow and hears Eddie say, "I'm not that hungry."
Buck nods and looks back at his feet, hearing Eddie's weary sigh. Eddie takes a deep breath and speaks, "Can you look at me?"
He knows what he's asking, but Buck doesn't want to. He doesn't want to look at Eddie and have everything that's happened in the past few months hit him square in the chest. He doesn't want to think about how easy it is for Eddie to stay after Chim asked him to, how Buck wishes that he had asked him sooner. How he could've gripped onto his shoulders when he was about to drive away, and begged him to stay for him. He doesn't want to think about how Eddie would have left without him asking him to stay, and Buck never could have asked him.
He wants to say this, he wants to shout and scream, he wants to shout accusations and make passive-aggressive comments to get underneath Eddie's skin. He wants to stick a knife into his side and wait for Eddie to blow over and stick it right back. He wants the familiarity of their previous arguments, how they both hurt and hurt each other with their words, so uncomfortably lost in their own feelings and intertwined into each other's. He wants it so bad, but he takes one look at Eddie, one good look, and realizes it's not worth it.
Because then Buck looks at Eddie, really looks at Eddie. The wet hair draped over his face looks darker than his usual shade, mostly because he never manages to dry it after he's taken a shower, cause it makes his scalp feel itchy. His dark eyebrows pulled together to exhibit his worry, emphasizing his brown eyes. His lips pursed together just slightly, quirking up because Buck finally met his eyes. The slight darkness underneath his eyes is because he's probably uncomfortable to hell and back from sleeping on Buck's couch every single day. He watches as Eddie gives him a small smile, and a lightness spreads over Buck's chest, and his ears feel like they're burning. He knows he's done for, because he's too exhausted to argue, and because he just realized how badly he wants to be in Eddie's arms tonight.
Tonight, or maybe for the rest of his life.
Eddie tries to speak, but Buck cuts him off, "You wanna share the bed tonight?"
Eddie seems dumbfounded by the statement, and understandably so. Buck's been practically closing him out for hours now, staying numb since Eddie rescued him from the rubble. Since Buck's heart froze because Eddie admitted how he tried to imitate Buck's actions to save the day, and he couldn't stop staring back at him until his eyes started to water. How Eddie stared at him until Ravi hurdled into his body, and Buck still couldn't look away. Now, he's asking him to share the bed with him, even Buck can't believe he managed to get that out.
There's silence in the room for seconds too long, so Buck's stomach starts to burn, and his cheeks feel red from embarrassment. He's about to take the declaration back, dunking his head down, and Eddie notices, he always does, so he speaks, "Okay."
"Okay?" Buck asks as his lips curl into a small frown in apprehension.
"Yeah, probably better for both of us, right?" Eddie asks like he's trying to convince himself, with shyness lacing his own words, and Buck nods back to support him. He tries hard not to think about his heart hammering in his chest like a bomb is about to go off. Eddie pushes himself off the counter and takes both of their plates to place them into the sink, running water over them to make it easier to scrub in the morning when they're both awake, to wash the dishes. Together, probably. Because Eddie isn't leaving in the morning, he's staying with Chris, and they'll have breakfast together in the morning, and drive up to Pepa's to pick up Chris, and tonight, they'll be sleeping in the same bed.
Buck's head feels hazy when he watches Eddie clean up the containers and place the unfinished bits into the fridge. He moves around the kitchen so loudly, banging things around accidentally like he usually does. Buck always used to hear it when he had a sleepover on the couch, him knocking things around or cursing because he burned breakfast. These past few weeks, after they had dinner together, Buck would wash the dishes as he listened to Eddie clean things up behind him. Then, Eddie would take his place on the couch, and Buck would bid him goodnight and rush to his bedroom because he didn't want to do anything he would regret. Now, Eddie will be coming to the bedroom with him.
Eddie washes his hands when he's finished and heads towards the door of the kitchen. He stops at the door and turns around to look at him. Buck gives a small oh when he realizes that he's waiting for Buck to follow after him, and pushes himself away from the counter to follow him. Eddie huffs out a small laugh under his breath when Buck's close by, and Buck nudges against his shoulder, "Shut up, Eddie."
"I didn't say anything, you're the one staring off into the wall, man." Eddie laughs, and his tone is so light and airy, finally familiar in a way that Buck finds comforting, a voice he can tuck away into the crevices of his chest. He twists his hands behind his back and follows Eddie into the bedroom. Eddie opens the door and gets on the side of the bed closest to the door, turning on his back and looking around the room.
"It's practically the same, huh?" He asks, not expecting Buck to reply, but Buck just stares at him on his bed. Technically, their bed, because they've both been in that same spot, different mattress or not, they've slept in the same bed, looked up at the same roof and walls, and at some point, dreamt the same dreams. Now, Eddie's in their bed, and he's looking at Buck with that understanding look in his eyes, like he knows how hard it must've been for Buck to change some things around the room, how difficult it was for him to sleep in his very room. Buck's neck flares up, and his mouth feels extremely dry all of a sudden, so he grabs some clothes from his cabinets and rushes out of the room.
"I'm gonna go-uh, change, wait," Buck claims, but he spends the next ten minutes pacing in the bathroom. He changes out of his hoodie and sweatpants into a shirt and pajama pants. The clothes are lighter, and he doesn't feel cold as before; instead, there's a burning sensation that's spreading all across his body, and he's sure it'll only get worse if he shares a bed with Eddie. He closes his eyes, opens them, and does this action again and again until he feels well enough to confront the earthquake in his bedroom. It's weird, he's shared a bed with Eddie before, especially during the pandemic when they were all rooming together in Buck's loft and took turns sharing the bed. It's not odd, Eddie knows all of Buck's sleeping quirks, and how he practically suffocates his partners in bed because of his clinginess, how sometimes he flings a hand out, how he can mutter random facts in his sleep. Still, it's different now. Maybe because there's something new in Buck's chest, something conscious, something that feels too real and close to fantasy than reality.
He wonders if asking to share the bed is weird. Did Eddie find it weird? If he did, he didn't show it, but maybe he's just going along with Buck's whims because he realized how close Buck was to losing his goddamn mind. Eventually, Buck realizes it's weirder to be holing himself up in the bathroom to avoid sleeping in the same bed as his best friend (his best friend who isn't going to leave, his best friend who'll be there all night), so he forces himself out of the bathroom and heads back to the bedroom. He hopes that Eddie is asleep by now, but sadly, good luck is never on his side, and Eddie is staring at the ceiling by the time he comes back, already underneath the warm covers.
He looks at Buck with the same perplexed look and jokes, "I thought you fell asleep in the bathroom."
Buck shakes his head, trying to make his voice stop quivering when he answers, "No, I just, I was brushing my teeth."
He goes around the bed, and Eddie lifts the covers for him to help Buck slide in easier. Buck thanks him under his breath and lies down beside him, unsure whether to face Eddie or the roof. He decides on his side to avoid the twinge in his back, which is difficult because that means he's face-to-face with Eddie Diaz, who also turned over. The light is off, but their door isn't closed shut, and the light from the hallway gives some sort of a viewing. Buck has built up a habit of having at least one light on inside the house, and it's betrayed him because now he can see Eddie's face, albeit not clearly. His eyes are bright, even in the near-darkness, and Buck feels this urge inside of him.
He doesn't want to start anything, he doesn't, but Eddie's mouth twists into a small smile, something that looks weightless compared to the last couple of weeks, and Buck has to ask.
He asks in a whisper, "Are you staying?"
Eddie seems to contemplate his words before giving him a small nod, "Yeah, I mean. I have to talk to Christopher about it, and we'll have to get our stuff back, but yeah. Probably."
Buck nods, and a bitter taste fills his throat. He bites on the corner of his lip, and he watches as Eddie follows the gesture, just a little, before breaking away and looking back up into his eyes. They're so close together, crammed together in his queen-size bed surrounded by a gazillion different pillows (they're comforting and Buck finds it easier to fall asleep when he's wrapped around something). So, it's easy to breathe together in unison, and maybe if Buck moves closer, their hearts could beat together too.
"Would you have stayed if I asked?" He bites the bullet and finally says it, and it feels like the worst thing ever. The constriction in his chest loosened, but it also feels so cruel to put it out there, to ask and wonder, and try to relieve his own anxiety, knowing it wouldn't do anything.
"I..." He starts, and Buck closes his eyes to not hear the dreaded answer he's been doomsdaying about for hours, "Yeah, I would've."
Buck's breath fastens up, and he opens his eyes, confused at the answer, "What?"
Eddie looks a little abashed. "Yeah, if you asked me to stay, I probably would've." He says, and Buck feels his body light up.
He wants to reply, he wants to say anything, he wants to grab his shoulders and ask him why he would stay for Buck. But Eddie speaks first, "But you wouldn't ask, Buck."
"What's that supposed to mean?" His tone is a little more testy now, more annoyed at the implications.
Eddie takes a deep breath. "You wouldn't ask, Buck. Because you think I would say no, but I don't.." He pauses for a moment, his face twisting in agony just a bit before it huffs out into a humorless laugh, "I don't know how to say no to you."
Hearing that makes him blink furiously, too confused and exhausted to understand what Eddie is putting down, while Eddie fights his own battles in trying to make sense of what he's saying. Buck doesn't want to think about it; he doesn't want to dissect what any of that means right now, especially when they're this close together. He looks down at Eddie's hands and wishes he could hold them right now, hold them close to his chest so Eddie could hear his heartbeat. So, he changes the subject.
"I'm sorry, um, about the other night. I guess I was just upset about you not telling me, and with...Bobby, and," His voice hitches on his name, but he keeps going, "I guess I just took it out on you a little."
Eddie shakes his head and replies, "No, we were both just...ramped up, y'know? It wasn't a good blend, and I said some pretty mean things, too. I'm sorry, Buck."
Buck nods and sniffles, water crinkling the edges of his eyes before he blinks rapidly to stop it. It's difficult, it's impossible, because it's only seconds after that everything he's been holding in implodes, and a sob pours from his throat. Eddie gasps a little, and Buck lifts his hands to roughly rub away at the liquid pouring out of his eyes, but it's difficult because his heart feels so tight, and everything is so much, and he just wants to be in Eddie's arms and forget about everything that's happened.
"Oh, Bud, c'mere," Eddie says, so kindly and so gently, barely opening his arms before Buck collapses into them, tightly gripping onto Eddie's t-shirt. He presses his face into Eddie's neck, bawling like a hungry child, and trying to retain as much of his scent as possible for comfort. Eddie's arms wrap around him, carefully, because even in a moment of panic, Eddie remembers the pain in his back. He's wailing, mumbling words that don't make sense, and sniffing between his sobs, all while Eddie rubs up and down his back, massaging the aches. He's reassuring him between his sniffs, shushing down the cries whenever it's too much, and speaking lowly, "Yeah, just let it all out, it's okay, I'm here."
It's all he's needed in the last couple of weeks, and it's so comforting, and he doesn't feel so full of everything anymore; the grief and pain loosen out of him in waves of distress. Eddie holds himself throughout all of it, and by the time he's reduced to just sniffling and clearing his throat, he's not sure how long it's been. He knows that the back of his knees are covered in sweat from the heat overflowing his body, and he's pretty sure Eddie's t-shirt is completely wet from his tears, but he doesn't want to move from his position.
He's no longer crushing Eddie's shirt, and he's wrapped himself around Eddie, who seems to have one hand around his waist, and another cradled into his hair, pressing into the right parts of his skull. Buck sniffles and tries to pretend like his lips aren't pressed against Eddie's neck, and how he wishes he could just take a bite and taste his blood. He curls his toes at the thought and twists the bridge of his nose until he's cradled just right into Eddie's neck. He hears Eddie grunt, and he whines when Eddie grabs his shoulder and the side of his neck to lift him off him gently.
Buck doesn't want to get off; he wants to melt into Eddie and his warmth, even though he is overheating. He doesn't want to be away from him now that he knows how it feels to mix with him. Eddie shushes him, just a little, "Wait, bud, it's hot, lemme just."
Before he finishes his sentence, Eddie pulls away from him, just a little, for Buck to observe the redness of his eyes. Then, Eddie just lifts the white t-shirt off his body and tosses it on the ground behind him. Suddenly, it's all tan skin and smooth muscles, and Buck knows his mind is about to blow itself inside out. Then, he pulls Buck right back into his arms and onto his neck. Buck shudders and pulls back. Eddie is the half-naked one, but somehow he feels more exposed. A part of him wants to give back the favor, to reveal himself as much as Eddie does to him, so he quickly takes off the pajama pants and scrambles back into Eddie's arms. He doesn't want to see Eddie's reaction; he doesn't wanna overthink a twist of the brows or darkened eyes, so he just resigns himself to the depths of his neck and hopes that Eddie gives him the benefit of the doubt.
Eddie laughs because, of course, he does. He bellows out in laughter in the most absurd way, and Buck finds himself laughing with him, twisted together in his arms as Eddie massages his back up and down, and keeps a hand in his hair. He's messing around with Buck's curls, scratching at the skull, and occasionally pulling on the individual curls to untangle them. Buck's got his hands wrapped around him, too, and he feels the smoothness of Eddie's upper back. He wants to scratch up and down his back, and he wants to sink his nails inside to leave a mark, but he probably shouldn't. Instead, he just soaks in the warmth, and maybe there could be too much warmth, but nothing with Eddie feels like too much; it's just right.
He smiles into his neck, and a part of him should feel embarrassed at the fact he's been sniffing Eddie's neck like a dog trying to scent, but he's too tired to care. Eddie takes all of his mannerisms in stride and just holds in his arms until his body loosens and his mind shuts up. Maybe he should push and prowl around in the other's mind, but he'll still be here tomorrow, so they can just enjoy each other's presence tonight.
It's so easy to say what he's been fearing for hours, so easy to admit when his limbs are loose and his smile is genuine, it's so easy to mutter it when Eddie's hand is petting his head, and he can feel his smile surround them back. It feels so right to whisper, "I love you," under his breath, just as sleep starts to overtake his senses. For a second, he feels Eddie's hand pause in his hair, and he whines a little, but then, his hand is stroking again, and it's alright. He feels Eddie's head duck down to place a kiss into his locks, and he holds onto him tighter as his eyes close for the night.