Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buck’s trying to do more things on his own in the months since Eddie’s been back. 

He takes two free boxing classes at May’s gym, but learns his bad leg twinges in warning when he’s putting most of his weight on the balls of his feet for an hour at a time and trying to be light and mobile isn’t worth the ache the next day. Maddie gets him a Groupon for a cooking class to take with Chimney of all people because she says she wants more home cooked meals, but Buck begs out after the third because it makes his chest ache for Bobby. Chim must have told on him because he doesn’t get any pushback from her, just big sad eyes that he avoids meeting when he delivers some freezer prepped meals as an apology. Karen gets free tickets for science lectures through work and passes them along, and Buck goes to the ones he thinks are cool until Denny expresses interest and asks if he can bring Chris, so that fizzles out because Buck would never try and take up that space. 

Ravi perks up at work when Buck breaks down and asks what the rules of Frolf even are, but before he can even respond Eddie pops up and suggests hiking and Buck starts looking up trails. There’s a ton in the area and he can’t keep himself from reading through ranked lists of hidden gems while lying down in the bunk room between calls. 

There’s something nice about reading descriptions and then scrolling down to the comments to read the very different opinions from ‘this was a breeze’ to ‘I thought I would die!’ – the variety makes him want to experience it for himself to see who is right. Maybe he can find a reviewer he trusts.

The next twenty four off Buck picks a moderate loop that people say has a nice view and sends a photo from the top to the group chat that’s been quieter since everything happened, Bobby’s number still in it, his messages saved for as long as Buck’s plan will allow. It hurts to know that they’ll never get another response with a signature unless Chim or Eddie really start leaning into the dad life a bit harder than they currently do.

He gets a bunch of heart reactions, and Ravi responds with killer! Which is objectively a little dorky, but it makes Buck smile because Ravi’s been a good friend– helped him move, gave him a recommendation to the landlord that Buck doesn’t really deserve so Buck didn’t have to pay an extra deposit or anything, and has kept his mouth shut about the whole Tommy debacle.

Eddie sends a separate text to just Buck of hiking alone?

Buck sits on a rock, looking around him, and takes a photo of the couple of other people who have decided to trek up a mountain at ten on a Tuesday in summer, don’t worry, trail’s pretty busy today

Bubbles appear and disappear before Eddie just gives the photo a thumbs up react and goes quiet.

It’s been stilted with Eddie recently and Buck doesn't know how to get back the easy closeness again. They’re the same at work, shoulder to shoulder, always watching each other’s backs. And when Chris is around it feels like it always did even though Chris is definitely a teenager with an attitude now and neither Buck nor Eddie really know how to deal with the bite in his humor and eye rolls at their jokes, so they share looks over his head or behind his back making fun of whatever new slang he’s using. But when they get food or give each other a ride there’s a weight to the air that Buck doesn’t know how to clear. It feels like Eddie keeps opening his mouth to say something and then swallows it back down and Buck doesn’t want to ask in case it’s a question Buck doesn’t want to answer.

He’s been trying to be more open because Eddie asked, trying to check in more on his friends and not sink into himself, but he still doesn’t want to talk about the empty spot at the table every family meal. Doesn’t want to admit how often he listens out for Bobby’s voice at calls and almost misses Chim’s orders.

And Eddie looks at him sometimes like he’s going to pry Buck open with the jaws of life right along the fault lines Buck has barely plastered over and make him talk about it if Buck doesn’t at least try and heal, which brings Buck to the solo adventures.

He looks at the view again, admiring the sprawl of Los Angeles. Some people hate it, the seemingly endless spread of the city, but it’s part of why Buck settled– the feeling like L. A. goes on forever in every direction. The way it feels like a bowl, keeping inhabitants in, hard to scramble out of, slides sloped up. He feels a little smile on his lips, takes a couple more photos, and makes his way downhill back to his car.

Sitting in a car that’s been baking in the sun feels a bit like standing in a structure that’s on fire, and Buck’s bare shoulders miss the protection of the turnouts, but the exertion was good– he feels lighter, and some of that is endorphins, he knows, but there’s also something else he thinks. He feels more tethered to the ground, less out of phase.

It becomes a thing. 

Nothing too strenuous, just a few miles each day or two off, climbing to a view and remembering why he built his home here in the first place. After the first one when Maddie had made concerned dispatcher noises he makes sure to share his location with her, and always texts the name of the trail when he starts out. 

Eddie had been weird about it too, hinting about the hike without asking more, and Buck had whipped out his phone and shared his location, holding up his phone with an exasperated “Eddie, I promise I’m being careful!”

Eddie’s frustrated noise in reply had made no sense, but thankfully they’d been saved from avoiding the conversation in the loft of the station by the bell, both locking into their roles the second they climb into the engine.

On a ninety six off Buck decides to spend a whole day climbing a ten mile loop that’s more of a challenge than he’s been giving himself because he doesn’t want to be in his apartment alone for that many days. He figures he’ll do it first day so he can spend some of the next day icing and rolling out his muscles if he needs it, and then Eddie invites him to come over and watch the Indiana Jones marathon on the third day so he agrees because movie marathons work better than anything else for letting them feel more like they were.

And because he’s come to realize that the feeling of surety he gets when he’s standing at a view; the one that says he’s made the right choice, that he’s accomplished something, is the same one he gets sometimes when Eddie’s laughing at one of his jokes, or Hen’s smiling at a gesture he’s made, or Maddie’s passing over Robbie to let him hold.

It’s the same feeling he used to get when Bobby would nod approvingly when Buck made a tray of enchiladas or brought in a nice loaf of sourdough.

It feels like a confirmation that he’s on the right path and building towards something, so he chases that feeling and packs a backpack of snacks and water, checks the weather and the ten percent chance of rain makes him pause to throw an extra pair of socks in his bag just in case because he hates wet feet and the blisters that come with them.

The trail’s emptier than he’s used to, which is fine with Buck because he has an earbud in (just one because he likes being able to hear what’s happening in the trees and bushes around him) and a history podcast telling him quietly about the origins of national parks.

The trail markers leave something to be desired, and Buck takes a couple of photos of places where they’re being obscured or are just missing so he can post about them. The podcast is really fascinating so it takes him nearly an hour to realize he is off the path for sure and the ‘trail’ he’s been following is more likely made by animals than humans. 

He sighs in annoyance, hands on his hips, and finds a good rock to lean against while he eats a bar and tries to figure out the best way back to the actual trail. His phone informs him he is in an area that only has SOS level of service, which is never good, and he decides he’ll just head back the way he came from because retracing steps is easier than trying to walk across unknown paths, especially since the one he took was pretty easy to traverse.

It’s just his luck that ten percent isn’t actually zero and the sky darkens only about five minutes later, clouds moving in fast enough to make him feel the pressure change in his ears, and he’s already cursing himself for choosing to leave his compact rollable poncho in his apartment.

The sky opens up with a force that feels a little like someone hates him, soaking the path quickly, ground slippery and sticky with mud almost immediately and he’s looking around for cover when he loses his footing and slams to the ground, hip hitting a rock hard and he’s sliding only around fifteen feet but it’s far enough to scrape up his side and he flails to grab some traction and stops the fall but not before his bad leg catches on something and fuck .

Fuck.

The pain isn’t comparable to being crushed, but it’s sharp and he immediately knows it’s bad. He’s not going to shake it off whatever he just did. He gasps into the wet mud at his side, wanting to throw up from the pain and shock of it.

He doesn’t have to look down to know his knee is definitely fucked up. He can feel it, and when he reaches down with his cleaner hand he can tell it’s not in the right alignment– kneecap off center and weird.

“Shit shit shit.” He gasps through his teeth, hissing, because he may not be an EMT but he’s seen enough dislocations to guess that’s what he’s done. The rain is still streaming down around him, soaking him down to bone and making the mud around him deeper as the minutes pass. 

He reaches into his pocket and tries to get out his phone, grunting as he jostles his leg, feeling the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes. It’s dry because he keeps it in a ziplock bag after watching more than one nightmare hiker story of water damage, but the screen is shattered badly enough that he knows he won’t be able to use it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Buck stuffs the bag back into his pocket, wondering if maybe he’ll be able to use the side button to call for help even without the screen working, but unwilling to try until the rain lets up. 

He looks around, unwilling to just sit in the chill of the mud if there’s somewhere better to position himself to be found. He tries hard not to think about the fact that he wasn’t on an official trail, that no one is going to be looking for him for hours at least, and that the rain has obliterated any signs of his movement. Because he shares his location with two people and once they realize he’s gone missing they’ll send the whole LAFD hunting for him.

There’s a little overhang about twenty feet away, and Buck can see that the ground underneath is dryer, so he pushes himself up onto his uninjured knee, stomach rolling from the pain of the other one, and drags himself up the hill, stopping every few minutes to suck in deep breaths and convince himself it’s worth the effort as the chill soaks into his skin.

It only takes about eight minutes for him to make it over, but he’s gasping from the pain and the effort, jaw aching from squeezing his teeth shut tight so he doesn’t scream, hands muddy to the wrists, scrapes on his side smarting, bruises already forming.

It’s nice to not have the rain falling on him, but the dry ground sticks to his skin and makes the mud crust up more, which even with the pain makes him wrinkle his nose in distaste.

He moves until his bad knee is out in front of him, back against the stone, and sucks in oxygen desperately, the overhang making it echo. He closes his eyes shut as tight as he can, trying to think clearly while also shivering from the water on his skin and soaking into his clothing.

He doesn’t know how to do a knee reduction solo. 

Eddie would comes to his mind unbidden and he shakes the thought off because that doesn’t matter at the moment, even if it’s true. He pulls off his backpack, glad he invested in one that is pretty damn waterproof. He keeps a towel inside because he knows he sweats and doesn’t like it on the seats of his truck, and it’s thankfully dry, so he uses it to wipe his torso down as best as he can. He also has a first aid box because no matter what everyone thinks he doesn’t actually have a death wish. 

It takes a few minutes and a lot of hissing but he cleans out the scrapes on his arms with alcohol swabs and patches up the worst with a few wide band aids and swallows down some pain killers.

Once he feels certain he won’t make anything worse if he opens the bag holding his phone he pulls it out and presses the side button repeatedly, hoping he’ll hear the siren that alerts him calling emergency services. It stays silent and the screen doesn’t light up, which means he’s well and truly screwed and he just has to hope his last location was close enough for the response team to have a good starting point.

The thought occurs to him that they sometimes call in helicopters for lost hikers and if the first time he sees Tommy after the funeral is like this, all broken and covered in mud and blood he would probably rather just be left in the mountains to die because he’s had enough of the universe at this point. 

Needing a new line of thought he looks down at his legs, bends his uninjured one, and wipes it down as well as he can, leaning his head back to curse when he jostles the other one. The rain is slowing and if he can figure out a way to make his way to somewhere more visible he will, but only once things have dried out a little more so he doesn’t eat shit and take out his other leg.

He closes his eyes against the surge of fear that takes over his chest at the idea, and hopes someone notices he’s missing before tomorrow morning because he’s in a thin shirt and shorts and while he doesn’t think he’s at risk for hypothermia since he’s mostly dry, it won’t be a good night at all, the stone at his back isn’t soft and there’s no way he’ll be able to lie down comfortably with his leg hurting as much as it does. Plus his hip is banged pretty badly so he doesn’t think he can sit comfortably for that long either.

He leans his head back against the cool of the stone and inhales noisily through his nose, gritting his teeth, and pleads with the universe to give him a break.

_

Eddie hasn’t checked his phone that much, he doesn’t think. It’s just– he’s spending the three days off doing boring shit: Chris has a dentist appointment, so Eddie gets the slot right after, and then they have to go get new shoes and Eddie’s relegated to coat hanger while Chris talks to the associate about how each one feels. 

It’s important for him to advocate for himself. And Eddie loves that he does it. But it does mean he’s bored because apparently Chris needs to try on like ten pairs of sneakers.

The 118 chat is quieter on days off than it used to be. They’re all still reeling and they don’t know how to be the same again. They can’t be, not really. Because Chim has a new baby, and Ravi’s full time, and Hen’s got her whole family together finally and feels guilty about her own joy, and Buck’s adrift no matter what he keeps saying, and no one knows how to talk to Eddie about Texas, and Bobby’s fucking dead.

He checks it anyways. Because he wants it to ping. Wants the comfort of it. The family of it.

Eddie is working on feeling like he’s back home, because he is, and it is better– El Paso hasn’t felt like his home since he was nineteen and signing his name on some government forms– his parents won’t even talk to him when they call to chat with Christopher, so he thinks he’s burned that possibility for good. Thankfully the house sold quickly and for a profit thanks to the work he’d put in, which is a gift because it means he doesn’t have to head back to deal with it anymore.

He just– he’d thought that maybe Buck would have stayed. That maybe they could have leaned on each other because that’s what they’ve always done. 

But since Eddie’s been back it’s like there’s this chasm between them. And on one side is Eddie, staring over at Buck and begging him to look back, and the other it’s Buck, back turned, ready to bolt. And every time Eddie tries to reach out, to talk, to get Buck to come back to realize Eddie’s here , Buck finds a new thing to keep him away.

Eddie deserves it, he thinks. Buck doesn’t like people leaving him, and Eddie’d been ready to do it a second time. Right after Bobby at that. So Buck’s been closing himself off ever since their fight and Eddie hates it.

He’d hoped that maybe with Buck in the house he could corner him– make him realize Eddie was sorry, that if he’d stopped to think to talk to his son that he wouldn’t ever have accepted the offer.

But Buck had looked at places with a speed that felt pointed and signed without Eddie even having seen the place. Which, given how Buck was about his own search felt like a door slamming in Eddie’s face. 

They talk less than they did when he was in Texas and Buck is less than ten miles from Eddie most days. And maybe if they were a different pair of friends that would make sense, because now they see each other for whole days at work and Buck still comes over at least once a week to hang, but they’re not talking to each other. Buck doesn’t start rambling and mention a place and say “we should go there!” like he used to. He doesn’t invite himself over– it always has to come from an invite from Eddie. He doesn’t call unless Eddie texts first, doesn’t make a recipe with Eddie over FaceTime, doesn’t text every thought that passes through his mind anymore.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with the way he missed Buck being fully with him. Misses the way he filled up the empty space in Eddie’s life so effortlessly.

He’s tried inviting Buck over more so Buck will realize Eddie wants him there, tried suggesting hiking as something for them to do together, and then Buck turned around and climbed a mountain without him.

“Dad?” Chris’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, “can I get both?”

Eddie looks at the two pairs at Chris’s feet, mentally calculates the month’s budget as best he can, and nods, “of course.”

Chris smiles, and Eddie shouldn’t keep letting him have whatever he wants, but he missed out on months of treating his son to things and a pair of shoes won’t break the bank.

He checks his phone. Buck still hasn’t texted him. The last two messages Eddie sent were reacted to but not replied to, which may as well be Buck for leave me alone . 

“I’ll box them up!” The salesperson says cheerfully, and Eddie stuffs his phone back into his pocket because he’s with Christopher and he shouldn’t be staring at his phone because his best friend won’t text him back. 

Buck’s coming over in a couple days, Eddie offered a marathon of Indiana Jones movies so he’ll be in the house all day, and Eddie’ll make him talk.

_

Every since Braeburn Buck always tries to check in with Maddie at the end of his hikes. Sometimes he gets a little distracted by something like lunch or an errand and it takes him a few hours, or he thinks about writing her a quick text and then forgets he didn’t actually send it, but nine– ok, seven times out of ten he checks in after the hike.

He always at least sends something before bed– ice packs on his knees or the line of a burn on his skin or the dinner he made or a request of a photo of his perfect niblings. 

The point is he usually checks in, which means at the latest someone will be worried by nightfall.

Buck sucks in air through his teeth because he doesn’t like the thought of being trapped under a rock for at least seven more hours. 

He hates how his brain reminds him that if it were a couple of months ago it would have been sooner. Because Eddie would have called and noticed he wasn’t answering. Would have texted and seen that it only said delivered and not read. 

Buck had forgotten to plug in his phone after a long shift and then had woken up and almost immediately gotten really into a gnocchi recipe he’d found in a cookbook Bobby had given him for Christmas and a delivery driver had rung his doorbell with a bag of chips and an energy drink in one hand with a stapled on delivery note saying to pick up the damn phone .

Eddie and he– 

Buck squeezes his eyes shut against it but he can’t stop the spiral. He thinks about the fight in the kitchen, about the heaviness that had weighed in the air, the bite at the family table in the firehouse, the feeling of seeing Eddie across the street and then the way his stomach had felt like it was going to fall out when Eddie was rebooking his flight until Chim yelled at him.

Buck wonders sometimes what would have happened without a building collapse. If it had been a normal shift. Eddie heading to the airport during Buck’s shift, packing Chris back up and away from Buck just days after he’d brought him. Buck’s paperwork moving through the system at the LAFD until someone picked him for their crew.

Neither of them would have the 118 anymore. New numbers on their helmets. Strangers watching out for them each shift. He doesn’t like the idea, not really, but there’s also something that still appeals about it. At least he wouldn’t be missing something that can’t come back every time he steps into work.

He looks down at his knee that’s starting to go mottled and bruise already, at the ground around him that has started to dry, and mentally sets a timer for an hour because by then he can start moving to nearer to the trail. Crawl up the slope he slid down, find a stick to use as a crutch, and get somewhere someone can find him because right now no one is coming and if he keeps thinking about why he’ll have to look pretty hard at some truths he’s been trying not to even glance at for months.

He looks around him for anything to stabilize his knee once he’s moving. There’s a couple of sticks within reach if he stretches that he thinks he can use as a brace when paired with the ace bandage in his med kit and maybe some cushioning from the towel or the extra socks he always packs.

He reaches over to the branches, gasping in pain from both moving his knee and leaning into his bruised and scraped side, and is glad to find they’re not too wet, just damp like him, and they’re a manageable length. He has a utility tool in his backpack that he technically could use to whittle down the tops, but he’d tried that craft for like an hour once and gotten some splinters and annoyed at the slow pace and given up, so he doesn’t think he’d be much good at it.

He puts one extra sock on each stick so it won’t rub his skin raw at the sides of his knee, and sucks in air as he has to move his leg into the best possible position, which sends a wave of nausea through him from the pain. He’s got enough training that he knows to place bracing on either side of his leg, and that he needs to wrap tightly enough that it won’t shift too much when he’s moving.

The voice in his head instructing him sounds suspiciously like Eddie.

It takes time, but he’s got plenty of that, and eventually he has a pretty serviceable brace that he sacrifices his shirt to as an outer layer so it won’t get dislodged when he has to drag the leg. It’ll leave him vulnerable to scrapes, bugs, and sun burn, but he needs his knee to stay immobilized if he’s going to get somewhere he can call for help.

It’s been thirty minutes by the time he’s happy with it so he rests, eats a protein bar, and drinks some water. He needs to steel himself for the climb.

__

Chapter Text

Chris is playing games and Eddie’s trying to read the book Buck had left behind when he moved but it’s not catching his interest in the way it had when Buck had talked about it. 

He opens his phone to their chat and sends you said this was true crime but theres so much science sure that Buck will know what he’s talking about. It’s a good way to goad him into an info dump, and Eddie wants the stream of texts, but after a few minutes his message hasn’t even switched to read, which is unusual for Buck even with the quiet tension that’s been growing between them.

He gives in and checks Buck’s location, and it’s somewhere on a mountain– he knows Buck doesn’t always get the best reception on his hikes and also doesn’t notice the vibration of his phone while walking, so he figures once Buck’s back to his car or stopped for a snack he’ll get a response.

He manages to read another chapter with the goal of collecting data for his responses to Buck, and then gets a call from his sister, which leads to her adding in his other sister, and then it rains and he has to bring in some stuff he had drying in the yard in a panic, and then Chris gets hungry so he’s halfway into making dinner before he realizes Buck still hasn’t responded.

His message remains unread and it’s already six thirty. Still summer light out, and warm, but Buck’s usually off the trail before this. Because Buck’s impulsive and a man of action but no matter what other people joke he’s not dumb.

Eddie opens the app and sees that Buck’s still basically in the same place he was over two hours ago. Eddie feels his pulse ratchet up a notch because logically he knows this could mean something as innocuous as Buck having dropped his phone on the trail but–

He presses call on Buck’s photo, ladle outstretched and chatting with Maddie, but it goes to voicemail immediately. That makes Eddie swallow nervously because Buck doesn’t turn his phone off. He used to, every so often, when the world got loud and painful or he just needed a night off, but since Maddie went missing and especially since Robbie was born he keeps his phone close.

Eddie feels the familiar drop in his stomach from worry.

He turns the burner down to low and calls Maddie.

“Hey Eddie.” There’s a faint question in her tone because Eddie doesn’t call her very often, but no sound of panic.

“Maddie, hi, I’m just wondering if you’ve heard from Buck?” Eddie tries to keep his voice calm, hoping maybe Buck’s in her house bitching over his lost phone with a baby in his arms.

The calm tone doesn’t work, because she immediately sounds tenser, “no, I was about to check–” her voice gets farther away like he’s now on speaker, “why is he still on the trail?”

Eddie inhales through his nose to calm himself, “it looks like he hasn’t moved in a couple hours– I think I’m going to head over there and see if his car’s in the lot. Maybe he just lost his phone and is at the Apple store trying to get a new one before we all make fun of him again.” He tries to laugh around the concern clogging up his throat.

“Sure.” Maddie gives him a half-laugh because Buck’s had five phones in the last two years. 

It’s a wonder they still let him buy the insurance plan. Eddie at one point thought he might have to co-sign for the store to even consider letting Buck have another because who leaves their phone on the roof of their Jeep twice?  

“I’ll call you when I get there so you won’t worry.” He assures her as best as he can, wondering how he’d feel if someone said the same to him about Adriana.

That earns him a little snort of disbelief, and she sounds more like herself when she replies, “me stop worrying about Buck? Unlikely.”

Eddie swallows down the agreement– somehow too much of an admission. Instead he says goodbye and turns off everything on the stove, putting lids on what will still be okay even if he takes a bit to get back.

He walks over to Chris’s room, knocking before opening, and Chris looks up expectantly, knocking a headphone off one ear, likely thinking dinner is ready, but his brows come together at whatever face Eddie’s making, “what’s happening?”

Eddie doesn’t lie to Chris anymore. It’s a point of pride, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy. “I gotta go check on Buck– he went hiking and his phone hasn’t moved in a couple hours.”

Chris’s frown deepens and he removes the headphones fully.

“Hopefully it’s just lost, but Maddie’s worried–”

Chris rolls his eyes, “Maddie– sure.” He shoots Eddie an unimpressed look, “go find him.”

“Dinner–”

Chris shrugs, “I’ll eat the leftovers I was gonna have for lunch tomorrow and whatever you were making can be lunch instead.”

Eddie has a pang of loss of how much more grown up his kid is now, but he nods in appreciation, “call me if anything happens.”

Chris nods, looking concerned, “same.”

Eddie wants to step into the room and press a kiss to his son’s curls, promise him that everything will be okay, but he only likes hugs every so often now, and it’ll probably just make Chris worry more if Eddie asks for one. “I’ll call, but you can always check my location.”

“Sure.” Chris’s jaw tightens, like he’s trying to keep himself from asking more, to be strong. Eddie hates how much he’s learned that coping method, but also he knows Chris knows now that he can always come to Eddie and be raw and emotional. He’s learning to trust his son to know his own limits and only press when it looks like Chris is taking after his father and bottling more up than he can handle.

“Love you, mijo.” Eddie doesn’t leave without saying that– not anymore.

Chris colors as he often does when he finds Eddie a little embarrassing, but he says it back, “love you.”

Eddie grabs a backpack before leaving, throwing in some water bottles, and puts on good shoes because if he has to hike up to Buck’s location he’s not turning around and losing time. 

__

The slow crawling climb sucks so much. 

He talks to himself the whole time, mostly “shit shit shit” and “I hate you” at offending obstacles, but he needs the sound of a human and talking helps keep him focused.

Buck’s got scratches on his palms from where he has to grab onto branches and rocks and support the weight he can’t put onto his leg. The last time he was one legged he had gained some tricks for maneuvering by hopping, but he dislocated the other knee this time and his crushed leg isn’t as good at balancing so he slipped a few times and his elbows and hips took the impact. He finds a good walking stick that makes it easier, but it’s no crutch, and he doesn’t trust it enough to put his whole weight on it– if it collapses and he falls on the dislocated leg he doesn’t have enough ibuprofen to manage that.

It’s so slow going, and Buck still hasn’t seen any other hikers, which means he is farther off the real trail than he thought, which makes worry clench in his gut because he still isn’t sure if anyone will have even an inkling of where he is by nightfall.

He thinks he probably makes it about half a mile in an hour before he needs to rest and drink water because it’s exhausting to hold himself so carefully, spikes of pain in his leg every time he moves forward and jostles it.

The skies overhead are darkening again, and there’s thunder which always makes his pulse race, and Buck wonders what exactly he did to make the world hate him so much because apart from holding Robbie for the first time and seeing Christopher back in his home– smiling and real and so much taller– Buck’s not sure he can remember the last time things went his way.

There’s a flash of memory of Eddie’s voice telling him he’s right in front of Buck, but Buck shoves it away because that assurance had lasted a couple of hours before Eddie’d pulled out his phone and looked for new flights.

He starts looking for another overhang– not a tree, he knows what gets struck by lightning first– and it’s all just mostly exposed dirt and big stones that are going to get slippery once there’s more rain. He needs to keep walking for as long as it stays dry and then wait it out.

It’s harder to get himself moving the second time– his body knows how painful it is and keeps second guessing his own movement, and since it’s all downhill he has to keep half sliding down slopes he’d happily scaled only a few hours ago. It occurs to him that coming up must be the series of boulders he’d navigated unquestioningly, even though they should have alerted him earlier that he wasn’t on a trail.

Boulders that will be soaked by the rain he can hear approaching, the thunder rolling closer, and that were tough to climb with two legs while dry. 

Buck gasps in a deep breath and holds it, trying to calm himself because panicking over too many things at once won’t help him get off the mountain. 

There’s a fallen tree that’s under a good amount of cover from the larger ones around it, and Buck sits on it like a bench, grits his teeth, and scrubs at his face to distract himself from the throbbing in his knee and the looming certainty that he’s about to be some station’s fucking call– he just prays whatever medivac crew gets to him is devoid of exes and people who know his exes.

The rain falls, and Buck is dryer than he thought he’d be, which he’s glad about as he stretches his leg out onto the log and tries to elevate it as best he can. He’s got a few hours until the sun sets, and he doesn’t want to think about the night. 

He eats some homemade trail mix and tries to think about nothing at all, but all he can think about is how much Bobby hated trail mix. Said it was too dry, too sweet, too messy for what it was supposed to be. 

“I used peanuts and almonds and pumpkin seeds and a herby spice blend.” Buck talks to the Bobby he can practically hear making annoyed Midwestern hums, “a lotta black pepper. I read if you use egg whites you can get things to stick together in clusters so it’s more cohesive, kind of like those candied walnuts you made for Christmas a few years ago.” 

He swallows down the still too dry mouthful, feeling the prickling of tears at the corners of his eyes that always happens when he thinks of Bobby.

“You’d probably still hate it, but I bet you’d have a handful anyway. You were that kind of leader.”

He sniffs, wiping his face again, and squeezes his eyes shut and listens to the rain hitting the trees around him, tries to breathe through the pain that’s twisting through him, tries to blame the hurt on his knee and nothing more.

__

Eddie keeps Buck’s location open the whole time he drives to the parking lot at the bottom of the trail, willing it to move . He swears it’s drifted a bit, maybe, since the first time he looked, but not off the trail and down the mountain. He just wants it to blink and then pop up at some Apple store miles away and make Eddie turn around. Praying to doesn’t disappear. He realizes he doesn’t have a back up and takes a screen shot of it at a stop light just in case. 

He calls Buck again but gets sent directly to voicemail.

Buck had told him once that phones can only show location when on, which means he should be answering. Means his phone should ring .

Eddie pulls into the lot and scans over the couple of cars that remain– people wrapping up their day of hiking as the sun starts to go lower– only around an hour or so left til sunset, maybe two hours before it’s really dark.

There’s a moment of hope before he drives forward and sees Buck’s Jeep that had been hidden behind an RV when Eddie stopped. It makes Eddie’s hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles white. He drives over and parks in the spot next to Buck, eyes scanning the windows– willing to just be mad at Buck for losing his phone and scaring Maddie.

But the seats are empty and Eddie’s shoulders are high and tense because based on the ping on his phone Buck’s about three miles up the trail and if he’s just sitting with his phone on do not disturb enjoying the view or rescuing a baby mountain lion or something Eddie is going to lose it.

He taps on Maddie’s contact, and she picks up immediately, “did you find him?”

Eddie licks his lips, “his car’s here. I think I can hike up to his location in less than an hour.”

He can hear her little gasp of worry, but her voice is steady, “and you’ll let me know if I should call dispatch?”

“Of course.” Eddie looks around at the parking lot that’s emptying even as they talk, “I’ll share my location with you too so you can know where we are.” 

He knows how, Buck had taught him, so he chooses the twentyfour hour option and climbs out of the car, backpack on, and starts up the trail at a run. He’s always liked a trail run, even as a kid– the way his brain has to focus in on nothing but finding safe footing and controlling his breath. It’s part of the reason he’d wanted Buck to come with him, the quieting of the brain had always felt good to Eddie, and Buck needs that kind of sensory narrowing sometimes.

Which is probably why Buck had taken to hiking so quickly, just– without Eddie.

Buck’s been notably without Eddie more and more in the past weeks and Eddie hates it.

They’re both better together. Eddie knew that before he moved, but he needed Chris, and now that that’s solved Eddie doesn’t know why Buck keeps trying to keep them apart.

Because they’re BuckandEddie and Eddie wants that back, but Buck doesn’t seem to agree.

Eddie wonders if he broke that permanently by going to El Paso in the same way he did by not going to Los Angeles when Shannon asked. What he’ll do if he did.

He swallows down the thought and speeds up.

__

Buck manages to hobble slowly so so slowly to the boulders he remembers. Through it all he talks to the world, narrating the infinite ways this day has turned to shit, gritting his teeth and hissing in pain anytime he stumbles and his fucked up leg has to take the impact.

He thinks he’s experienced worse pain, but pain memory is fleeting in that way, and he’s starting to wonder if he has because all the other times he’s been incapacitated at some point. He’s passed out, or been given meds. All the other times he’s been with his team and someone has been there for him to look at and talk to.

He needs to get back to somewhere with other people because he’s starting to notice the way the sun’s lower than the trees and even though he’d mentally known he might not be found before dark it’s so much worse to face the reality that is pressing in.

Because he’s slept out in the rough before– the years he was making his way around hadn’t always been easy– but usually in places like a public park bench, or a shitty half-tent situation. Not on the ground that’s still damp from the passing storms and with animals that Buck knows are rare but not non-existent in this area. 

Sometimes knowledge isn’t helpful, because he thinks he’d rather not know about what lurks. He’s got an imagination that he can barely rein in on good days and it’s been established that he is not living a good day.

He checks his backpack for the flashlight he usually brings and is grateful that it seems to be working– it hadn’t occurred to him that he could have fallen on it, but there’s a little relief knowing he won’t be in the dark all night. Plus if he hears any search choppers it has an SOS setting that flashes for him.

He sits at the top of the stack of boulders, looking down at the impossibility of the path, trying to think of a way down that doesn’t require the ability to balance on two legs.

“There are climbers with only one leg.” He tells himself. “It has to be possible.”

His inner voice is of no help. They usually have the benefit of not having that leg weighing them down.

Buck had watched Free Solo one night when he couldn’t sleep without waking up an hour later covered in sweat and screaming for someone on his team trapped behind the glass– a carousel of victims bleeding from their nose right in front of him. The last straw had been him screaming uselessly into the transparent surface as Eddie asked him to call Chris for him.

So he’d been up for a few hours and gone on a deep dive of climbers and who was making waves in the scene and why they did what they did, and sat and watched the documentary with a gnawing need to see someone beat the odds. Buck knows he’d never try to climb anything like the peaks they did, but it’s nice to feel anxious about something on a screen instead of inside his own mind.

Dr. Copeland had shrugged when he said he was worried how he’d been watching deep dives into true crime during lock down. She said it wasn’t uncommon– the instinct to make the never ending gnawing worry have a cause.

He doesn’t have anything to distract him from the very real and present problem at the moment, and that’s probably good from a problem solving perspective, but Buck would give pretty much anything to have a podcast going. His headphones had survived the rain and the fall, and they’re tucked into their charging case, but without a phone there’s nothing he can do.

He pulls out the phone and tries the side button again, but it remains dead.

He sighs, puts the plastic bag back into his backpack, and takes some more ibuprofen. If he’s going to slide and jump down the rocks one-legged then he’d like it to hurt the least possible. The boulders are still wet in the spaces between, puddles held in crevices, but they’re drying off on top so the slide won’t be as bad as it could have been. The skin on his legs and bare back is going to be worn raw and scraped, but his memory is that the last time he was sure he was on the trail was just about twenty minutes of easy walking before the boulders, so if he can get past this obstacle he’ll be in better shape.

The only way he can see to get down is to sit on the rock, holding his weight and lowering himself for part of the way, then sliding, aiming to catch himself on the next rock with his good leg.

He realizes he needs to find a way to protect himself a bit better because he’s already pretty banged up from the original fall and all the times he’s had to catch himself since, and he won’t be any better off if he’s bleeding all night from cuts.

There’s not much in his backpack, and thankfully he’d stuffed a compact reusable bag in at some point, so he transfers what he is carrying into the reusable bag, ties it as tightly as he can, and loops his arm through it. Then he takes the now empty backpack and tightens it against his back, using the chest strap to keep it in place. 

He feels a bit like when he was little and playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with some other kids in kindergarten, the image making him snort even as his stomach clenches with anticipation of the things he’s about to do.

He scoots, wincing at the chill in the back of his thighs from the stone, and takes some deep breaths as he grips, lowering as best he can half-blindly, inching down until the slope is too much and he slides, twisting so he can land on his healthy foot.

It’s a jolting sting, trusting all his weight to the leg he still doesn’t rely on if he can help it, but it doesn’t feel like he’s done any new damage, and he’s eight feet farther down the stupid fucking mountain than he was a few seconds before.

There’s a familiar thrill of adrenaline from it– a rush that something worked , and it makes him bark out a laugh, looking around for the right rock to choose next, weight off center and body twisted. 

It’s going to take a while but he thinks this might actually work. “Let’s fucking go.”

__

Even in good shape running uphill for miles isn’t easy, so about halfway to Buck’s marker Eddie stops and takes a sip of water, checking on Buck’s location again. He frowns at the dot, then pulls up the screen shot he’d taken before.

Buck’s moving. It’s slow, far slower than Buck would move if he were hiking, but his ping is definitely closer to the line of the trail on the map than it was before. He’s moving, which means he’s with his phone, but not fast, which means he’s hurt.

Eddie’s chest tightens in fear, and he sends a quick text to Maddie his dot is moving but too slow for him to be ok. I’ll get to him faster than paramedics, but we might need them.

Maddie is a professional, and her reply makes Eddie respect her even more than usual calling it in. ETA to the trail 20 or so. Get to him, then me.

The I’ll handle it from there is implied, but Eddie hears it loud and clear. Maddie’s no damsel in distress, she’s got as many scars as Eddie, maybe more. 

Eddie swallows and starts running again. It’s only around ten minutes later when he sees two hikers coming towards him. He waves, “hey– I’m looking for my friend, have you seen him?”

They look at each other, then shake their heads, “sorry, man. Didn’t see anyone on the decent.”

Eddie frowns, pulling out his phone, and looks at the icon, “he’s only a bit away it looks like.” He points in the direction, “that way, you sure you didn’t pass him? He’s kind of hard to miss– tall, kind of blonde?” His brain wants to add more descriptors, but the hikers don’t need to know Buck’s eye color or how broad he is – how much space he takes up until he’s cradling a baby in his arms or comforting a scared kid at a scene.

They both frown, and one turns to look behind them, gesturing and checking with Eddie, “that way? Nah, we didn’t see anyone that way, the trail goes over there and doesn’t bend back that way for a couple miles.”

Eddie swallows down the frustration, “he must have gone off trail.”

The guy looks apologetic, “it’s not well marked, we were actually gonna to call it in to the park services tomorrow. There’s a kind of confusing split just a bit ahead, at that big rock. The next marker isn’t until a ways down on the left, but it kind of looks like it could head right.”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the bit that had fallen over his forehead. “Shit.”

The two look at each other uncertainly, “do you need us–”

Eddie shakes his head, “I’m a firefighter, so not up there, but if you could point the way for the emergency crew that’s on their way? Maybe take them to the fork and send them in the right direction?”

The guys nod, “of course.”

Eddie tries to smile, “okay, thanks.”

He heads up, finding the rock quickly, and notes the way mud and feet have worn both directions from the rock down, the rocks flat and wide looking enough like a made path that Eddie can see Buck taking the right and then getting invested in something like the podcast he was telling Hen about on shift and not noticing the missing markers.

He runs along the path that isn’t a path, looking for signs of Buck, checking his phone often until their icons are close enough that at the normal zoomed out they’re almost overlapping.

“Buck!” He yells out, it’s instinct to add on “call out!”

Theres a pause where all Eddie can hear is his own breathing and a bird somewhere far off, then muffled but clear, “here! I’m here!”

Eddie had read a short story once about some tempting swamp creatures that guided people off paths with lanterns, back when Chris was in his mythology phase, and they’d both agreed a lantern wouldn’t tempt them deeper into an unknown wilderness, but with the way he runs to the sound he knows with a kind of concerning level of certainty that if the creature had Buck’s voice he’d follow it over a cliff if it called pleadingly enough.

“Buck, keep yelling!” He calls, trying to orient to the voice, glad the sun is still above the horizon.

“Eddie!” Buck sounds shocked, and closer, and Eddie’s looking around, desperate to get his eyes on Buck. 

He moves past a set of trees and there’s Buck, leaning against a boulder, chest bare and covered in mud and bruises and blood. He’s the best thing Eddie’s seen in weeks, so he has to yell out,“Buck!”

Buck waves and makes no movement to rise, and it’s only once Eddie’s closer that he takes in the makeshift bandaging on Buck’s leg, and Buck sees it when he spots it, “it’s been a pretty shitty day.”

Eddie can feel his eyebrows raise to his hairline, “only pretty shitty?” He looks over Buck’s face for any sign of a concussion, then back down at Buck’s immobilized and dirty brace, “would hate to see a really shitty one.”

Buck’s laugh is loud and bright, teeth flashing, night stretched, “well, give it time. The sun hasn’t even set.”

Eddie can’t keep himself from laughing back, kneeling in the dirt by Buck to look him over more fully, “I’m about to call your sister, so maybe that’ll help nudge it one way or another.”

Buck groans, “she’s gonna yell at me.”

“I don’t blame her.” Eddie nods, hands itching to touch Buck, but instead pulling out his phone to make the call. “You scared her.” He swallows, looking over Buck again, voice quieter, “you scared us .”

The smile falls off Buck’s face, eyes going sad, and Eddie clicks call rather than deal with the admission.

Chapter Text

Eddie spends the time Buck’s on the phone looking over Buck’s injuries as best he can without doing any new damage or making Buck’s knee worse than it already is. He doesn’t unwrap the leg all the way, but he checks on Buck’s foot mobility and circulation, and takes off the shirt layer so he can see how bad the bruising is getting, feeling a churning in his gut at the mottled splotches on Buck’s pale skin.

Once Maddie hangs up to give an update to the team at the foot of the trail Buck looks over at Eddie pleadingly, “can’t– do I have to go down by stretcher? I got this far, can’t I just lean on you–”

Eddie frowns in disbelief at the man on the ground next to him, resisting the urge to shake Buck until he understands how stupid that sounds, how risky , “it’s miles downhill, Buck.”

“I know, it’s just–” Buck worries at his lips and Eddie has a weird urge to reach out and stop the bite with his thumb so Buck won’t cause new injuries. “I feel stupid enough without some other crew strapping me down and carrying me down.”

Eddie gets it, it doesn’t matter how little he judges their patients for needing help, it’s different to be on the receiving end. He stands, offering a hand out, “we go as far as you can before anything hurts.”

Buck looks up, eyes blue and a little annoyed, gesturing at himself, “everything hurts.”

Eddie crosses his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow, “then no dice.”

Buck leans back, crown of his skull hitting the rock, neck long and pale under the thin layer of mud, voice whiny at the edges, “Eddie, c’mon.” He leans forward and meets Eddie’s gaze again, “just– like a little bit. Let them see I I don’t need–”

They both know the second the team sees Buck he’s getting on the stretcher, but Eddie does understand wanting to meet them standing, so he rests his weight on one hip, thinking, “fine. One condition.”

“Name it.” Buck perks up, and something in the recesses of Eddie’s mind wants to admonish Buck for how easily he gives consent, but simultaneously warms to how much Buck trusts him even with the recent discomfort between them.

“You come home with me after the hospital.” Eddie looks pointedly at Buck’s leg, “you’re gonna need help for a couple of days at least.”

Buck’s shoulders fall, “Eddie, come on. I’ve managed before, and you know my new place doesn’t have stairs.” The unspoken for Christopher hangs in the air between them because even though Buck had rushed the process in a way Eddie still can’t understand he hadn’t sacrificed that requirement.

“Which is why I’m not asking you to stay til you can walk. Just a couple nights while you adjust.” Eddie sets his jaw, trying not to think about the fact that there was a time when Buck would have jumped at the time together. That not too long ago Buck gave up his place just so Eddie didn’t have to worry.

Buck stops meeting his eyes, opening his mouth to turn down Eddie’s offer again.

Eddie cuts him off, “Chris will worry less. I had to leave him to come here, he’s been watching our locations.”

It’s underhanded to use his son, but Eddie isn’t above it because Buck should be at Eddie’s. Should be filling the house with his laughter and his little comments at Chris about Eddie, with his opinions about Eddie’s snack selections and his backseat driving while Eddie cooks and Buck keeps his leg elevated.

Buck’s eyes close, but he sighs, and eventually looks back up at Eddie, eyes tired and sad in a way Eddie can’t read fully but is determined to understand. “Fine.”

Eddie bites his tongue to not lash out with try not to sound too excited, bud , just reaches out and grabs hold of Buck’s forearm, levering him up and forward.

Buck’s balance is clearly shot, one legged and shaky after a day of stress and overwork, but Eddie compensates automatically and catches him at his sides as gently as he can, hyper aware of the cuts and bruises under his hands the second he touches Buck’s skin.

He moves to Buck’s hurt side, crouching slightly so Buck’s arm fits just so over his shoulder, and it’s only once he’s got half of Buck’s bulk leaning into him that his brain remembers how bare Buck is. His arm is wrapped around Buck’s wide back, the nape of Eddie’s neck is against the curve of Buck’s bicep, Buck’s pec is pressed into Eddie’s side. He’s cooler to the touch than Eddie’s used to– the day pulling heat from Buck’s skin, and Eddie wants to press all of his warmth into every one of Buck’s cells.

For such a big guy Buck gets cold too easily. He’d made some argument at one point that more surface area explained it, but Hen had scoffed and informed him even when he was a little slip of a thing he’d been a shivering mess after water rescues. Buck had whined he was never little and then gone and worked out in a huff so Eddie’d gone over and spotted him so he didn’t die under a barbell from a light tease from Hen.

Taking half of Buck’s weight is easy and familiar at this point in Eddie’s life. They’ve helped each other out of enough scenes that he knows how to match Buck’s longer stride. It’s just usually there’s layers and layers of thick fabric and this is the first time he’s been so barrierless– Eddie’s so aware his arms are bare to the shoulder in his cut off– but Eddie stays steady so Buck can move safely even as his skin prickles.

“How’d you find me?” Buck asks, teeth gritted against the pain he’s clearly trying to cover so Eddie won’t stop moving him. “My phone’s been dead since the fall.”

Eddie can’t shrug while holding Buck, so he hums, “your location was still on. Watched you move a little.”

“That’s not how it works.” Buck sounds interested, mind already moving towards the pull of a puzzle, and Eddie lets him drift so he can focus on the best footing for their path and listen to Buck think. “The location services needs power. It could have given you old data from before I fell, but–”

Buck quiets for a second while thinking, and Eddie feels a little smile on his mouth because he likes when Buck is turning something interesting over and over in his mind even when it’s in combination with a sort of pathetic limp that Eddie’s doing most of the work for.

“My headphones!” Buck says loudly and practically in Eddie’s ear, so he winces and wrinkles his nose so Buck will know to chill he’s right here. “Oh, sorry, right–” Buck’s voice lowers, “my headphones were still working. And they can be found too! I think I read once they even help with phones on the bluetooth network.”

Eddie laughs a little bitterly, thinking about all the times Buck’s bitched that he forgot to charge his headphones again , “so glad your survival depended on you remembering to have those charged.”

He can feel Buck go tense under his hold, “uh-r-right. Sorry.”

Eddie immediately feels bad because he’d just been thinking he liked hearing Buck talk and once again he’d stepped wrong, but Buck is hurt and the idea that the only reason he’d been found before a night on a mountain is the same little case of headphones that Eddie has picked up from more surfaces around the firehouse and Eddie’s house and in both their cars than he can count is unnerving.

“It’s fine.” He shifts his bare shoulder, feeling the way it slides across Buck’s sweaty chest, some grit transferring to Eddie’s skin, “I just–” he doesn’t know how to end the sentence.

He’s prevented from having to say much else by the sound of others coming up the path that’s soon accompanied by flashlights moving towards them, so Eddie calls out, “here!”

__

Buck feels the too familiar crawling weight of being a fuck up pulling down on his joints. He wants to push off the paramedics and just hobble down the trail himself, who cares if it would take hours and fuck his knee up worse and in the end he wouldn’t be able manage to drive home on his own? It would be better than the look in Eddie’s eyes when Buck’s answering questions about how this all happened, the tension in his posture.

It would be better than the sound of Maddie’s voice over the phone, her sigh of “oh, Evan.”

It’s not the uneven shuffle down the hill on the board that has Buck’s stomach rolling. It’s the hiker at the point where the path he was on rejoins the actual trail, the frown on the paramedic’s face when she unwraps his leg, the way he recognizes the look from first his parents’ faces, and then from Bobby’s and Athena’s when he was younger.

You fucked up.

He clenches his fists, wanting to repeat the mantra he’s been using, “it was just a stupid accident.” But he knows stupid accidents cost people worse than their knee everyday and all Buck can think about is how many stupid decisions went into the time leading up to the accident.

He hadn’t researched the hike deeply, wanting some surprises for look outs and challenge. He hadn’t kept himself fully alert to the trail, should have noticed so much earlier that something was off. He hadn’t taken the rain warning seriously. He should have had his phone in a safer pocket so the impact wouldn’t have broken it.

There’s a quiet voice in the background trying to remind him of all the ways he was safe– even the best hikers get hurt, but the creeping crawling sticky black inkiness of doubt is seeping into his marrow. 

He should have known.

He should have been better.

He drinks the water offered in the ambulance, absently notes which hospital they’re headed to because Eddie asks.

That sends another pang through his chest– Eddie’s going to be taking him in, and Buck needs to think of a way to get out of that deal. Because he can’t manage the thought of being off work for weeks and the adjustment to his routines for recovery in addition to the constant presence of Eddie.

Because there’s so many reasons Buck had to move out of Eddie’s house, and while out loud Buck said it was about fresh starts and quality time with his son and Buck needing to have his own space– there’s also this nagging something that Buck can’t look to hard at or everything is going to collapse.

He tries to think of other options.

Maddie and Chim can’t take him in on top of two kids.

He would never impose on Hen and Karen like that.

Ravi’s a good guy but there’s no way they’re ready to spend even three hours together solo without an activity again after the night at the bar.

He grits his teeth against the wave of pain he feels knowing he can’t call Bobby. Athena would probably take him in an emergency, but she’s still so raw– throwing herself into every case with an abandon that May and Harry have texted vaguely about without pulling him in too deep.

He closes his eyes, trying to listen to the chatter of the paramedics over him as they continue to take his vitals, but this is the first time he’s going to be in a hospital bed without the knowledge that Bobby’ll lean in through the door and look at him like he’s a little exasperated but also like he’s just glad Buck’s still around.

He can hear his heartbeat quicken, and the paramedics look down, concerned, “something feeling worse?”

Buck wants to be honest, but he knows teams talk, idle gossip between crews, so he gestures down to his leg, “just– adrenaline wearing off I think.”

She nods, smiling, “I bet. Those storms were no joke, you’re lucky.”

Buck barely stifles a snort, “sure.”

“I’m serious.” She looks down, holding his gaze, “we both know too many stories where it went differently.”

“Oh my god, stop.” Her partner gripes, pulling a face at Buck, “sorry, she’s just like that.”

Buck smiles as best as he can, because she’s not wrong that he’s seen scenes that went south way before the 118 arrived and not from any fault, just bad luck, “it’s okay.”

The two bicker over him lightly for the last few minutes before they arrive at the hospital, and Buck tries to think about nothing other than the pain in his leg, shifting it slightly so it screams at him and prevents him from thinking about the empty space that was Bobby, and the things he can’t want.

__

Eddie, strangely, does not hate sitting in hospital chairs. He used to, when they were novel and mostly associated with Christopher’s surgeries or his own injuries, but at this point he’s spent more time in waiting rooms than he thinks should happen in one life time, so he doesn’t hate them anymore than he hates all things about being in hospitals.

He shifts in his chair, sending another text to Chris just another test and then a chat with the doctor and then we’ll be on our way home.

Chris’s reply is quick and clearly full of sass, so 3 hrs

Eddie laughs under his breath, silently agreeing with his son’s annoyance at the speed the hospital works. He’s used to emergency medicine, where things happen fast and solutions are needed in seconds, but once the team had evaluated Buck’s leg and done a reduction everything had become a consultation waiting game.

They’re currently making sure Buck doesn’t need surgery. The first doctor had said it looked hopeful, and Eddie had been silently hoping right alongside Buck that the prescription was a brace and some P.T. because he’s only been back for a few months and he doesn’t want another break in working with Buck.

Doesn’t want Buck withdrawing more.

He’d looked more defeated than he had on the mountain when Eddie had finally gotten to Buck’s side, quieter and avoiding Eddie’s eyes, telling him “this is gonna take a while– I, uh, I can just–”

Eddie had pointed to the stack of magazines in the room, “I have months of local info to catch up on.”

Buck had glanced over at the OK!, Us Weekly, and People on the little table, “Eddie.”

“It’s relevant for work. You never know who we’ll be called to help.” Eddie had settled into the chair, opening the earliest one from the stack, skimming the headlines, “apparently one of the Kardashians went to Italy. So that’s one person we won’t have to deal with on a call.”

Buck made an annoyed grunt, but Maddie arrived and then he’d been too occupied by proving to her he was fine and making grateful noises when he heard Chimney was going to pick up his car. Maddie had nodded when Eddie had assured her Buck would come home with him for a couple of days while he’s adjusting, and Buck’s protests had fallen on two pairs of deaf ears.

Maddie left when a doctor pulled Buck away for some tests with a kiss to Buck’s temple that made Eddie ache for– something. Maybe a better relationship with his own sisters.

Eddie hears Buck’s voice down the hall and straightens up, ready to take in anything the doctor says about steps for recovery and treatment options because when Buck’s tired and in pain he has trouble doing much more than nodding, signing papers, and making assurances that he understands and will do everything in his treatment plan.

Eddie can’t help but smiling at Buck when he rolls in, an orderly nodding along, “it’s remarkable, actually, they can tell from MRI scans that humans can smell fear.”

“Wow.” The response doesn’t have any of the warmth Buck deserves, and Eddie thinks orderly looks like he’d really like to get Buck back into the bed and out of his hair, “now, up we go Mr. Buckley.”

Eddie stands, hand out immediately, taking Buck’s weight at his elbow even as the orderly is moving to do the same, and he knows his eyes narrow at the other man, but it’s because he wasn’t being nice to Buck. Buck who is hurting and still trying to connect with this guy who won’t even listen to his fun fact.

The orderly throws Eddie an unimpressed look, but Eddie turns away from it, looking at Buck, a silent dismissal of the guy, “how do they even know people can smell that?”

Buck frowns, blinking a little owlishly from the pain killers Eddie knows make him loopy, “smell what?”

“Fear.” Eddie helps Buck get propped up, leg elevated, and grabs the ice pack from the little tray, resting it on Buck’s knee.

Buck makes a little sigh that sounds like a combination relief and shock at the chill, “they– they went sky diving.”

Eddie hums in encouragement, checking over Buck as best as he can, selfishly glad that Buck’s medicated state means he’s less likely to clam up.

“They put pads under the people’s armpits.” Buck’s head rests back on the pillow, eyes closing a little, “and made people smell things in MRIs and only the ones from sky diving made people’s fear centers light up. Made them better at tests.”

Eddie frowns, “better at tests?”

“More attentive or something. Fear is useful.” Buck’s eyes close more fully, and his words are a little slurred, and Eddie can’t help but smile at how relaxed he looks. 

Eddie wonders if the fear he felt seeing Buck’s car was useful. The way his heart had raced when he realized Buck had barely moved in hours.

It had certainly made the run up the trail easier.

He looks at Buck again, at the scrapes and bruises all over his arms, thinks about how Buck’s own fear propelled him to keep moving, so get to a place where Eddie could reach him. Fear and adrenaline going hand in hand to make this ending possible.

A nurse comes in to ask Buck if he needs anything and Buck blinks awake enough to ask for ginger ale and ice, so Eddie returns to his hospital chair and reads about someone named Jojo Siwa that he swears he remembers buying weird giant hair bows from years ago when Chris had had to go to a friend’s birthday party.

__

The feeling of relief when the doctor says he doesn’t seem to need surgery is like jumping into a pool on a summer day after lying out for hours. It makes him gasp and do a little fist pump in the air because he doesn’t think he could have managed another blow this year.

Buck kind of stops listening after that, letting Eddie take notes because he’s got meds in his system that are making him sleepy and the world kind of soft around the edges. He wants to look at Eddie while the doctor is talking, but his brain reminds him that staring at his friend for no reason while he’s supposed to be listening to a medical professional is on the no list.

He is supposed to look at the person talking to him. No matter how nice it is to look at Eddie instead.

The doctor leaves, and Buck is grateful that he’s now allowed to look at Eddie, and is only expected to wait for some paperwork and then–

He remembers he’s going to Eddie’s, and instantly feels a little more in his own skin. Because earlier he hadn’t wanted that, or he had, but he shouldn’t want. Because Eddie is too easy to fit into his life and Buck can’t build his life around people anymore because whenever he does they leave and Buck’s done with living on unsteady ground because he thought something was permanent and then it was ripped away from him. And because he can’t tell that to Eddie because then Eddie will get tight at the corners of his mouth again or worse ask Buck questions and eventually Buck will have to answer them.

“Just a brace.” Buck says with a half-smile, “sounds like something I can recover from just fine at–”

Eddie glares, “I will put you over my shoulder and run you back up that hill.”

Buck’s shoulders fall, “c’mon, man. I’m fine. ”

Eddie inhales noisily in the way he only does when he’s frustrated moving towards angry, “and you almost weren’t , so can you please just let me–”

“I just want to go to bed, Eddie. I-I’m tired and I’m in pain and I want to sleep.” Buck tries to meet Eddie’s eyes, pleading with his best puppy dog look, a vague hope that maybe they can get through this without Buck needing to work too hard.

Unfortunately thanks to Christopher Eddie is mostly immune to that look, “and you will. I have a bed, you can sleep, and I can make sure you actually take those pain killers I know you don’t even plan to fill the prescription for.”

Buck can’t help the little noise of annoyance from escaping, why is he so stubborn , “Eddie, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Eddie’s arms are crossed, the magazine set down, “Buck we made a deal. You can’t drive, your sister is coming over to mine tomorrow to check in on you. You don’t have a phone, so what would you do if something happened overnight?”

Buck juts his lower lip forward, “nothing’s going to happen .”

“And I’m pretty sure you told me that hike was a ‘chill one.’” Eddie snarks, “and look where we are. So you can just fucking suffer through a couple nights of my presence.”

Buck frowns, brain still a little sluggish and unwilling to give him good reasons for what he wants, so stuck on the word suffer , “it’s not– I- Eddie, you know it’s not you.”

“Do I? Because you’ve happily stayed over in less bad shape.” Eddie looks at him accusingly.

Buck doesn’t want Eddie to think he doesn’t like him. He lo– Eddie is one of his favorite people in the world. “Eddie, it’s not . I love hanging with you and Chris. I just–” he sighs, looking down at his hands, “I hate that I fucked up.”

Buck can see the fight go out of Eddie, “you didn’t fuck up, Buck.”

Buck looks at Eddie disbelievingly, “no? Pretty sure I’m currently in a hospital bed with another smashed phone’s insurance going on my cell bill and multiple weeks of downtime ahead of me. All because I couldn’t read trail signs.”

Buck watches as Eddie’s jaw tightens, then relaxes, “the other hikers said it was an easy mistake to make, Buck.”

“And yet they made it just fine to the summit and I had to be carried down.” Buck shakes his head, “I finally found something I thought I could do without adding to everyone else's plates. Without making me working through my shit you all would have to think about.”

Eddie just looks at him like he doesn’t know how to respond. Like he doesn’t know what to say to Buck, and there’s that gap that Buck’s felt between them recently because Eddie always knows how to respond to Buck even when it’s biting or unfair. 

Buck waves his hands in the air, “and here we are. Again.”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond but for what feels like the tenth time since Buck arrived at the hospital a nurse comes in, but this time it’s with discharge papers and instructions and Buck tries to process all the information at once as best he can but it’s always been a lot– medical information and papers and signatures all needed at once, and even with everything he just said to Eddie he’s still grateful when Eddie gathers up the instructions for exercises and the prescriptions while Buck’s trying to make sure he signed and initialed everywhere he has to.

In the moment after she leaves Buck can’t look at Eddie, “can you hand me something to wear?” Maddie had brought some clothes over for him in a duffle bag that Buck can tell has a few changes and his toiletries in it.

Eddie nods, reaching in and bringing over some briefs, which makes Buck blush realizing Maddie had been in his underwear drawer, some sweats and a soft T-shirt that Buck usually sleeps in.

“Buck–”

“Please don’t, Eddie.” Buck says as he navigates the brace on his knee and is so glad he remembers the skills he developed years ago. “I’m tired, so let’s not. I’ll come to yours, okay? I said I would.”

Eddie doesn’t look like he considers the conversation over, but he doesn't push Buck, which he supposes is a win.

Chapter Text

Eddie lets Buck close his eyes and stay silent on the ride home. It doesn’t take long for Buck’s posture to slump, the day catching up to him as Eddie drives. Eddie turns on the radio, finding a station of ‘oldies’ that he remembers playing as new pop at school functions when he was a kid, turns it down low and and tries to focus on driving through the city without thinking about Buck’s face when he talked about his failure.

Because that’s what’s hurting worse than Buck being injured– that Buck didn’t fuck up, not really, and he still got hurt because he was unlucky and alone.

If Eddie had been there, had insisted he join Buck, had told him he really wanted to see what the new hobby Buck had decided to throw himself into was like– he could have had Buck’s back. Could have done the reduction on his knee and then helped him down the slope. Could have used his phone to call for help instead of relying on the headphones that died in Buck’s backpack while they were at the hospital, making Eddie’s gut twist.

Because what if he hadn’t checked his phone? Hadn’t noticed Buck’s original location? Had let himself talk himself out of worrying– believed the story about a lost phone Eddie himself had started weaving?

He looks over at Buck. He’s got his face turned away from Eddie, birthmark stark against Buck’s pale skin as a passing car with too bright high beams illuminates Buck.

Eddie’s watched Buck close off for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe ever since Eddie had thrown cruelty his way in the kitchen– hissed fury and guilt lashing out in the only direction he’d had. He apologized wordlessly with Chris and Pepa, and then once out loud and haltingly a couple weeks later in the darkness after a movie on his couch.

Buck had just shrugged and told him he didn’t need to, that he got it– water under the bridge. But he hadn’t met Eddie’s eyes for longer than a couple seconds during the whole conversation and after, when he claimed he needed to make up the couch so he could rest, his yawn had been fake. Eddie knew because Buck always makes a weird little exhaled and quiet kind of squeak when he yawns for real.

And now after the clumsy truthfulness of the meds Eddie knows Buck’s still thinking about what Eddie said– that he’s trying to make his processing quieter so no one will think he’s making everything all about him. 

Eddie doesn’t know how to tell Buck that’s not what he meant. That he’d been begging for Buck to say something real and not just assess Eddie’s grief on some scale Buck had googled while not sleeping. That he was tired of walking on eggshells around his best friend because he didn’t know how to let both of them mourn Bobby. That he missed Bobby too and needed someone to sit with, not someone to analyze him.

Eddie worries that maybe he broke them that night.

Maybe he finally said the wrong combination of hurtful things that made Buck realize Eddie was the man Eddie always feared he was deep down. The man with parents who didn’t want the unfiltered version of him, who escaped across the ocean and came back scarred, whose wife ran away, who couldn’t make a relationship work without a panic attack, who let his son leave and then needed everyone else in his life to tell him to get him back– couldn’t even take the step without Buck telling him to dad up.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s true. If Buck really is done. Because Buck’s different. He’s– he’s always plunged in alongside Eddie, gripped tighter, sunk his teeth into things like a stray mutt and refused to let go even if they were hurting him.

And Eddie– Eddie’s had Buck cut him off before and hated every bit of it. Unanswered messages and a kid whose face crumpled when Eddie said Buck couldn’t be around anymore and five beers in his fridge that Eddie doesn’t like from a six pack Buck brought over.

He hadn’t lied. The fighting wasn’t about Buck, but the way he felt when he went to text his friend and remembered he couldn’t had been a thing Eddie had used as fuel for his kicks and punches right alongside the cruel words of a father when Eddie and his partner came in second behind a couple that had been dancing together for ten years and the shuttered sad expression on Shannon’s face when he said they should try again.

Eddie had a lot of fuel to drive him down bad paths if he wanted to. On his best days he’s proud that he doesn’t let himself. Doesn’t even need to think about it, the gentleness coming easy.

On his worst he wonders if anyone should feel safe in his presence. 

He clenches his fists around the wheel, exhaling slowly because Buck is okay. Eddie got to him in time. He’ll be back to work in a few weeks with nothing but a slightly more prone to dislocation knee for the rest of his life.

He takes another look over at Buck. There’s a scrape running across the tendon on the side of his neck where Buck’s skin is thin and stretched across muscle and veins. It’s already scabbed over, will probably be fully healed in only a couple days, but Eddie wants to run his finger across the rough texture. He thinks it would help to remind the both of them how close Buck came to worse. 

The drive isn’t very long, so before Eddie is ready for it they pull up to his home and Buck curls his shoulders, stretching out as his body recognizes the lack of motion, his breathing louder as he wakes up.

Eddie moves quickly because Buck will definitely try and get out on his own, but Eddie had meant it when he said he would help Buck adjust. He’s there with a crutch faster than Buck can blearily get his bearings, taking advantage of the sluggish way Buck moves when he’s on painkillers. 

“Thanks.” Buck says quietly, mouth clearly dry from the nap. 

Eddie nods as he gets the rest of their stuff from the car, eyes tracking Buck’s balance in case he needs to help as they make it to the front door, “anytime.”

Buck stops moving, looking at Eddie, opens his mouth, then closes it around the words he was going to say. Eddie hates when Buck shuts himself up, wants to encourage Buck, but Buck doesn’t look like he can handle prodding at the moment. He’d probably call an Uber if Eddie pushed him more. And if he had a phone to call one on. 

Chris is walking over to the door when they get inside, clearly having heard the key. Eddie nods a greeting as he juggles prescriptions, Buck’s overnight bag, and Buck’s backpack.

“Hey Chris, you didn’t have to stay up–” Buck starts, voice more cheerful immediately at the presence of Chris. Eddie chest warms because it’s so obviously not for show.

“It’s midnight, I’m a teenager, i-it’s whatever.” Chris waves him off, looking him up and down, and Eddie can see how intently his son is checking over Buck’s injuries even as he aims for nonchalant, “how long on the crutches?” 

“At least a week on two, then we’ll see about one.” Eddie answers because Buck had been making the face he makes when he’s trying to attend fully but is feeling overwhelmed by everything while the doctor had been explaining the various ways his treatment could go.

Buck looks over and there’s definite gratitude in his eyes when he does it, so Eddie just shoots him a half smile.

“Sucks.” Chris says with all the sensitivity that teen boys muster at midnight.

Buck takes it in stride, laughing, “it does.”

Eddie can see the exhaustion in both their postures, “okay, you saw Buck, so it’s bedtime.” Chris shoots him an offended look at the phrasing, and Eddie puts his hands up in defense, “for both of you.” 

“Fine.” But Chris doesn’t start moving, still looking at Buck, and Eddie puts a hand at the small of Buck’s back to get him moving into the house, and Buck steps forward with the practice of a man who has been on crutches more times than most.

Chris relaxes a little at the sight of Buck moving confidently, and Buck must notice too, because he smiles softly at the teen, “I’m okay, bud.”

“I know.” Chris frowns for a moment, then smooths, “I was just making sure you didn’t need an e-expert opinion on best routes through the house.”

That startles a laugh from Buck, “think I’m okay but if I wipe out you can say I told you so.”

Chris nods like that’s what he was waiting for, “goodnight.”

“Love you.” Eddie responds at the same time Buck says goodnight back.

Chris turns and makes his way into his room, a muttered “love you” thrown over his shoulder as he goes.

He says it more easily now that they’re back home, which always makes Eddie’s sternum buzz with warmth.

Eddie moves into the house, pouring the content of Buck’s backpack onto the coffee table, picking up the clothes Buck had worn for the day and the dirty towel, “I’m gonna throw this in the wash.”

“You don’t–”

“I’m running a load.” Eddie cuts Buck’s protest off, moving to the machines, “the backpack too.”

Buck sighs, “fine.” Eddie can hear him crutch to the bathroom, the sound of the water running.

Buck emerges with the faint smell of mint on his breath and Eddie points to the bedroom, “go lie down. Your meds are on the table.”

“I’m not kicking you out of bed, Eddie.” Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder in the direction of the couch, “I can–”

Eddie puts up a finger, “it’s after midnight. I’m not arguing over this. You’re injured, the couch is fine for a crash, but not healing up.”

Buck’s jaw is set, and Eddie sees him grip the handles of his crutches tighter, gearing up for an argument.

“I’m serious, Buck. Just get in the bed.” Eddie crosses his arms. 

“No.” Buck’s mouth is a straight line.

Eddie forgot how fucking stubborn Buck is, an immovable object when he feels like it. And Eddie’s tired– he’s tired of Buck’s shit, feeling the collapse of energy that comes from a night of worry, so he just uses the same tone he would on a combative patient. “Bed. Now.”

Buck’s cheeks go pink, but he just shakes his head in response and Eddie thinks he’s about a minute away from sticking out his bottom lip and pouting. “You’re already taking me in, you don’t need the back pain.”

Eddie wants to groan in frustration because Buck is so fucking selfish in his selflessness, so unwilling to be the one who gives things up, always giving. “Then we share. That way I know you’re not doing more damage, and you can rest knowing I didn’t have to sleep on a couch.”

Buck looks startled at the offer, “uh- that– that’s not what–”

“That’s the last offer, Buck. I can and will pick you up.” Eddie points at the bedroom door, really hoping Buck won’t make him prove it because he did run miles uphill and then shoulder most of Buck’s weight for a considerable distance, “or you can crutch your way over there yourself and keep your dignity.”

Buck’s cheeks go even pinker, and he moves quickly, “n-no no no, I’m going.”

Eddie follows, ignoring the muttered “mister bossy pants” thrown at him as they go. 

Buck tries once more, looking at the bed, “I really like your couch.”

“Me too.” Eddie snorts, moving to the side he sleeps on, plugging in his phone and pointing at the spot next to him, “look, we can rehash this argument tomorrow night. Now take your meds and get in bed.”

Buck finally moves, sitting and leaning the crutches against the nightstand, back tight as he complies and takes the two pills he is supposed to. Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes at the posture, voice low and biting, too tired for a filter, “God forbid someone worry about you, asshole.”

Buck’s shoulders freeze, then lower, and he looks over his shoulder at Eddie, mouth downturned. “Sorry.”

Eddie feels bad immediately, but he doesn’t know what to say to smooth the hurt. Buck at least lies down and figures out how to lie with the brace on his knee. After he turns off the light Eddie turns on his side, studying Buck’s barely lit silhouette in silence, glad to be able to see him safe even with the heaviness in the air.

He wants to reach out; to bridge the space between them, put a hand on Buck’s arm to make sure Buck’s there and safe for the whole night, but Buck would go all tense and probably sneak out anyways.

He tucks his hands under his pillow so he won’t do anything in his sleep.

Each of his blinks get longer, and eventually he lets his eyes stay closed, listening to Buck’s steady breathing.

__

Buck stares at Eddie’s ceiling, brain squiggly from the pain killers, repeating Eddie’s tone over and over in his mind. He looks at the same ceiling he stared at each night while Eddie was in Texas, tracing the slight imperfections he knows better than he ever thought he would.

He hears Eddie fall asleep, the way his breathing goes quiet and slow, and Buck looks over to where Eddie is turned, facing him. 

Worry about you echoes through him, the sting of asshole nothing compared to the pointed reminder that Eddie had felt that way.

He’d known, at the back of his mind, that Eddie was worried for him. Of course he had, it had been on his own mind how worried he was probably making people, but more in a feeling bad for it way than a real consideration of the impact it was having.

Because Buck knows Eddie cares deeply, always has, and it wasn’t until he was sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed, trying to think of a way to get out of the room, that he’d heard how much fear was behind the anger and worry. The same fear that he’d seen immediately on Chris’s brow when he came in, teenage body posture and jokes doing nothing to hide the way his eyes had moved over Buck.

It was the same look Maddie had given him when she brought his bag– the checking all of him hungrily, making sure he’d been all there. The hand on his arm as she looked up at his monitors and tracked oxygen and pulse rate. 

Chim had said once that he used to wake up sweating and gasping and would walk into Jee’s room, counting her fingers and toes, feeling her chest rise, hand soft on her forehead for a fever. The need to know she was okay. That she was healthy and whole.

He’d felt it himself after the tsunami– late night texts to Eddie to make sure Chris was okay were never left unanswered because Eddie got it. 

He’d scared them. 

There’s a curl of guilt in his stomach again, the confirmation that he’d fucked up and scared his family making him feel worse. Hears Eddie’s scoff at the headphones in his bag, tries not to think about what would have happened if he had forgotten to charge them again.

His phone isn’t enough. He thought he’d been smart with location on, but all it had done was give him a false sense of security. If he’d lost it earlier in the hike or it had tumbled down the mountain when he fell Eddie could have been looking for him in the wrong place. 

Eddie could have been hurt hunting for a stupid piece of technology while Buck was somewhere else all together. It could have been somewhere more dangerous, both of them stranded and struggling while Chris was home alone.

He shifts, trying to ignore the bruises and scrapes on his back because he can’t sleep any other way with the brace on. 

His phone isn’t enough. He needs something more. Something more reliable. Eddie doesn’t deserve the fear. Chris is growing up, he shouldn’t be spending his late nights worrying over where Eddie is while he searches for Buck. He shouldn’t have to be up at midnight waiting for them to come home, shouldn’t have to do things like looking over Buck, cataloguing his injuries.

Buck turns his head on his pillow, watching the soft relaxed lines of Eddie’s face. Now that he sees it it’s more obvious Eddie was holding tension in his brow and jaw all night, even as he looked at an article about Sydney Sweeney in Entertainment Weekly.

The people he loves deserve better from him. Bobby had said they’d need him, and Buck was failing again to be there for them. 

There’s a clench in his heart at the memory, but sometimes it’s easier to think about Bobby when he thinks of him as a captain giving him orders. Buck’s job is to be there for the team.

He tries to think about what that could mean, how he could follow through on that instinct, but the pull of the painkillers is strong, as is the fatigue in his muscles from the impact of the fall and the hobbling climb, and Eddie’s bed is warm and smells like Eddie’s fabric softener.

He resolves to look into what can be done in the morning. Maybe after breakfast Eddie will take him to the store for a new phone so he can search for a solution that makes sense.

He closes his eyes, listening to the quiet life of the house around him, and promises the universe that he’ll make it up to Eddie.

__

Eddie bumps into consciousness, the jostling of the mattress pulling him up and out immediately, too trained by his whole life to ignore.

He hears a quiet inhale, a kind of wet gasp, and recognizes the sound of Buck trying to muffle his pain immediately, which makes him open his eyes to the sight of Buck’s back curled forward as Buck leans on his thighs, breathing through the pain.

Eddie knows it well, the experience of waking up and being hit by a day’s injuries, the needed moments to settle into the soreness and figure out what doesn’t hurt. He looks over at the pill bottles at the same time that Buck leans over with a hiss to grab one and shake out a dose.

Eddie’s glad he’s not suffering through it, but that means Buck’s in a considerable amount of pain if he isn’t trying to muscle through it for an hour or two before giving in.

He’s struck again with the urge to reach out and put his hand on Buck, smooth a soft path across his shoulder blades like he used to when Christopher was having a bad day.

Buck’s arms tense as he grips the edge of the bed, looking at the ceiling, and Eddie knows that position too, the mental preparation to try and face the day while hurting. The conversation Buck’s probably having with himself– a bartering system of risk and reward for the bathroom and breakfast.

He quickly tries to think of a solution that will allow Buck to rest. “I’m ordering breakfast burritos.” His voice is louder and raspier than he’d meant it to be, the unuse of the night making it a low growl.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie.” Buck startles, turning too fast and then grimacing from the movement, which Eddie had been trying to avoid.

He makes an apologetic face, trying to clear his throat before he speaks again, “sorry, just– wanted you to know.”

Buck shakes his head, looking back at the wall he had been facing, “trying to kill me.”

“Not in here. I sleep here.” Eddie says as he sits up, reaching for his phone to make the order, suddenly very aware his dinner had been interrupted and left up to the hospital vending machine gods. 

Buck huffs out something close to a laugh, “if you kill me I am haunting you forever.”

Eddie thinks he should be less charmed by the thought of a ghost Buck just pushing spices across his counter while Eddie cooks. He taps through to the last order from his go to place, “yes or no to chorizo today?”

“Yes.” Buck answers as he stretches, still with his back to Eddie, letting out a little grunt when he twists.

Eddie makes his selection, “how’s the pain?” He mentally prepares himself to up the number by two or three based on Buck’s posture alone.

Buck sighs, looking over his shoulder, “my whole body feels like a bruise.”

The honesty in his tone makes Eddie raise his eyebrows because usually he has to drag things like that out of Buck. “I have IcyHot.”

Buck hums, “let me see if the meds help, but I might take you up on it.”

That makes Eddie blink in surprise too, Buck’s willingness to be helped, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it in case Buck backpedals. He looks back at his phone, “you want anything else?”

“Are you done with the bag of bad coffee?”

Eddie had tried a little cup of coffee from a nice kid with a table at the grocery store. The story behind the beans and the environmental practices by the farms had been compelling, and the kid had had curls like Chris and Buck and had looked so nervous – he’d apologized for the fact that he’d burnt the beans a little when making the pot, since it’s his first time being sent out as an ambassador for the brand.

Eddie scowls, both at himself for trying something new and at Buck for calling him out on it, “it’s fine.”

“That’s a no.” Buck reaches for his crutches, “and I am already hurting, so one black iced coffee, please.”

Eddie sighs because now he’s going to drink the awful roast alone, but he can’t bring himself to buy a whole new bag when this one is technically perfectly fine. Buck gets up, his shirt bunching up under the armpits and exposing a sliver of pale skin above his sweats that’s covered in bruises and scrapes.

Eddie wants to reach out again. Maybe carefully apply IcyHot across the worst of the purpling marks. 

He keeps his eyes on Buck, making sure the man gets to the door without too much issue, that he’s keeping his leg from taking any weight.

It’s only once Buck’s safely in the bathroom that Eddie scrolls to the beverages section of the menu and adds one iced coffee. He looks over the options lazily and notices they have guava and tamarind juice, so he adds one and presses order quickly so he won’t talk himself out of it.

He stands up, feeling the previous night’s run in his thighs as he does, and heads into the kitchen to make a couple cups of coffee because for all of Buck’s bluster he knows Buck will need a cup to get him through til the food comes.

Entering the kitchen he is hit with the realization that he’d been cooking dinner when he rushed out. The pans are all still out, filled with half-finished sauce and sides. He hates the thought of throwing away so much.

The echo of a memory when Bobby had lectured all of them once about the safety of foods left in the ‘danger zone’ for too long comes into his head, the serious face he’d made when Buck had protested about day old pizza being fine. Eddie had been ready to agree– a memory of lying in bed with Shannon early on in their marriage, pizza box on the ground, reaching for slices between giggling gasping orgasms– but Bobby had shut it down quickly and Hen had reluctantly backed his medical information. 

It was all so they would stop leaving stuff out and make sure the man behind did their job and put away food safely, but Eddie’s thrown away anything he’s unsure of ever since. It feels like honoring Bobby in a way, listening to his advice still.

He starts the coffee brewing, annoyed again at how it smells nice but he knows it will taste burnt and acidic no matter what he does.

He scrapes the beginnings of a sauce from one pan into the trash, glad he hadn’t added the meat, and pours out the salted water. The sound of crutches approaches, and Buck appears, looking around the kitchen.

“Coffee’s almost ready.” Eddie nods to the pot as he’s scraping the last of the green beans into the trash. “Sit.”

Buck looks at the pans, “what–”

Eddie waves him off, “beginnings of dinner, should have cleaned them last night.”

Buck’s face does something complicated, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie replies quickly, because the point of washing the dishes was not to guilt Buck more. “It was just some sauce and vegetables.”

“Right.” Buck worries at his lip, and rather than make him feel bad for it Eddie pulls down two mugs and grabs the too-sweet creamer he’d bought as a last ditch effort to cover the way the coffee tastes. 

He brings Buck over his cup, sitting across from him, letting the warmth of the coffee pull him out of the last of his sleep, thinking about the day in front of them. He lets himself look at Buck, check and see if he’s still holding himself gingerly. There’s tension in the corners of Buck’s eyes, but he looks better, more color in his cheeks.

Eddie lets himself think, selfishly, that even hurt and clearly struggling with guilt it’s nice to have Buck in his kitchen.

Buck makes a face when he finally takes a sip, “you cannot be trusted at the store alone.”

Eddie swallows down the knee-jerk response of if you had stayed I wouldn’t have been alone. He takes a theatrically large sip, keeping his expression wholly neutral, “I think it’s fine.”

“Oh yeah? Well, next time I’m there I’ll pick you up a couple more bags.” Buck challenges, “throw them in your freezer and really stock up.”

“So thoughtful. Thank you.” Eddie hides his smile with the cup.

Buck rolls his eyes, taking another sip and wrinkling his nose. Eddie feels warmed all over, the coffee’s impact faster than normal.

Chapter Text

“Tell me he’s not being judgy.” Buck whispers to Eddie when the sales person leaves to get the phone he’s chosen from the back.

Eddie looks up from the display phone he’s been tapping, “he is absolutely judging you. The face when he pulled up your account?”

Buck groans, “there have to be other people worse than me.”

“You’re paying off three phones already, bud.” Eddie says unhelpfully, and Buck doesn’t regret bringing him, couldn’t, he’s Eddie. And Buck is embarrassed at how much he needs help, especially since he has to keep handing things off to Eddie because he can’t move and hold things unless he tucks them under his chin or holds them in his teeth and that’s frowned upon in stores.

The salesperson, Jonathan according to his name tag, returns and his face is all sickly sweet as he circles things on a page, “now, Mr. Buckley, the insurance you purchased does allow for free replacements, but as you know from the past two times you’ve used it that only means a discount on starter price.”

He sounds so much like Buck’s parents anytime Buck lose his mouthguard or Gameboy that Buck has to shove away the impulse to start an argument.

“He’s fine. We’re first responders, so sometimes emergencies happen.” Eddie cuts in, short and snippy, and Buck looks over to where Eddie is looking Jonathan up and down, “and if the case had worked as advertised we wouldn’t need to do this again.”

Buck really doesn’t need this day to include the version of Eddie that had clearly been raised by Helena Diaz, but it is nice to be defended because Buck had bought the heaviest duty phone case. He just hadn’t expected to test it by landing on it with his full mass onto a rock. The screen protector replacement is already in the mail because Buck had had a weird burst of energy one night and actually registered all the shit he had lying around and the box had promised ten years of free replacements.

Jonathan puts a hand on his hip, mirroring Eddie, “as it says on the box cases can’t be guaranteed for all accidents. I can get you a form so you can file a reimbursement claim with that company if you would like.”

Buck internally groans at the thought of more paperwork.

“We would. Thank you.” Eddie doesn’t sound thankful, and Buck needs this to deescalate, so he shifts on his crutches, moving a bit more into Eddie’s space.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” He draws Jonathan’s attention, trying to smile, “I’d just love to be off my leg as soon as possible.”

Eddie shifts, and Buck can tell just from the movement in the periphery of his vision that Eddie feels bad for lengthening the appointment, but if that means this whole purchase is over sooner Buck will let him stew in it for a couple of minutes until they’re in the car and he can confirm with Eddie that yes Jonathan was an asshole.

Jonathan looks unaffected, which is another tick in the asshole column, but he hands the box over to Buck who then passes it to Eddie, “no, we have your account on file and everything will just be put on your monthly bill. If you have any questions please feel free to go to our app or to the website where there are agents available twenty four seven.”

Buck nods along even as he is silently vowing to never use their agents because he knows they’re eighty percent chat bots as best and the last time he tried they took him in circles that ended with Buck almost cancelling his contract.

Eddie takes the paperwork Jonathan gave them, folding them and adding them to the bag with the phone, and Buck is already spreading the idea of submitting anything to a case company no matter how much they promise about durability.

“What was up with him?” Eddie gripes as they leave the store, “it’s not like you meant to break it.”

Buck holds the feeling he gets when Eddie coming to his defense as tightly as he can, wondering, not for the first time, what it would have been like to have someone on his side when he was younger. “I dunno, it’s been a- a long time since I worked retail.”

“I don’t think being nice to customers has changed, Buck.” Eddie gripes as he holds a door open for Buck to pass through, his body brushing Buck’s elbow as Buck passes, warm in comparison to the chill of the air conditioner. “We deal with plenty of jerks and we don’t act like that.”

Buck laughs, “we took deescalation courses, man. Also I think all of us have yelled at someone getting in the way of the hose once or twice.”

Eddie had almost gleefully smashed the window of a car parked at a hydrant a year ago, looking blithely at the owner when she came over and yelled at him that the city would have to pay for it. Buck had had to turn away to not laugh at the tiny woman screaming about her parents’ law firm until Bobby’d gone over and shut her down.

There’s a pang at the memory, because they lost that. Lost the man who would handle those situations with the perfect amount of steel in his voice and Midwestern calm– Chimney doesn’t have it, and he’s the first to admit that’s not his style as a captain.

Once they’re in the car Buck plugs the new phone into the charger that doesn’t fit Eddie’s phone but is always plugged in for Buck and begins the process he knows all too well of downloading everything from the cloud back onto his phone.

The way texts and numbers repopulate is always kind of strange to him. Different apps require different amounts of confirmation and two-factor authentication and the hours after a new phone are filled with trying to recall what his password is for things he doesn’t remember signing up for. He updates all his apps, and his eyes catch on one he knows he hasn’t opened in years because he knows exactly why and when he downloaded it.

It’s the app that connected to Taylor’s bracelet. Just for registering the information and receiving the distress call if activated, but it’s still in his phone because Buck had thrown it into some folder group and therefore it disappeared from his memory. 

He looks over at Eddie who is frowning at the traffic in front of them.

He could do that . He could do something– Eddie wouldn’t need to worry. There has to be more tech like it. Things he can wear whenever they’re not on shift.

Eddie looks over, “how bad is it?”

Buck blinks, “huh?”

“The messages? Your phone’s been buzzing.” Eddie frowns at Buck’s confusion.

“Oh!” Buck looks back down, “most of it is notifications about logging back in to things.” He clicks over to the messages that finally have names attached instead of just the anonymous number, clicking on Eddie’s name first, skimming over the couple of messages he missed, “wait– there is true crime with the science!”

Eddie’s laugh is a bark of surprise, “Buck, why are you reading my messages, we’re in the same car! And that’s what you’re answering first?”

“Yes! Eddie, it’s a good book! And the science has rivals fighting and country drama– there’s a world war brewing!” Buck’s mind catches up to his mouth, the realization that Eddie had started reading a book just because Buck left it in his move and had talked about it hitting him– he’d even meant to pick it up when he’d noticed it missing while unpacking. 

But Eddie apparently had seen it and tried it.

Eddie deserves to know Buck is safe. Just like they call out to check in on shift. Buck can give him that. 

Eddie’s smiling, “okay okay I’ll give it another chapter, but after that you’re just going to have to explain it to me instead.”

“Deal.” Buck would probably be willing to give Eddie a play by play of the novelizations of Star Wars if he asked for it, and he’s never even opened one and doesn’t really like whole chunks of the lore of that universe. Also at some point Chimney had said some of them weren’t even canonical, which sounds like a chore to shift through, but he bets Reddit would have advice on the approach.

Eddie’s grin is worth the reckless promise that will require Buck reread the book just so he can be accurate if it’s needed.

__

Buck’s face is going more angular at the jaw and the circles under his eyes are looking deeper which means he’s hurting more than he’s letting on, so once they’re back from the store Eddie makes him sit on the couch and heads into the kitchen to make everyone sandwiches.

By the time he’s back, family sized bag of chips under his arm and three plates of sandwiches balanced a little precariously on his arms Christopher has joined Buck in the living room, tucked into the armchair so that Buck can stay stretched out across the couch, both of them laughing at something on the television. 

Eddie doesn’t want to step in, to break the spell. The joy in the room, Chris feeling comfortable and home – no more hiding in his room, not retreating into his screens, just showing Buck some video that makes him laugh because Buck will too.

Buck senses his presence, and scoots up, reaching out to offer to take a plate, and Eddie shifts so Buck’s plate is in Buck’s hand, and is immediately glad for the length of Buck’s limbs because Buck manages to both take his own food and also catch the bag of chips without much difficulty.

Eddie puts down his own plate onto the coffee table and then goes to the wall to grab the new folding table he got so Chris could eat in the armchair on the nights when they decide to watch something together. 

Buck starts moving, to put his foot onto the table and eat that way, but Eddie catches him, “stop.”

Buck does, surprisingly, and Eddie pulls the second of the tables out, putting it in front of where Buck’s feet are, and scoots in, letting Buck’s injured foot rest on his thigh, the other folded up so only Buck’s toes barely touch Eddie. Eddie keeps his hand on Buck’s ankle to prevent Buck from pulling away and doing more damage when Eddie’s perfectly fine with his foot on Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie leans forward and pulls the sandwich and table closer. He has found that if he just doesn’t acknowledge it when Buck is trying to get Eddie to silently agree to something Buck thinks is best that they can move forward without needing all the song and dance.

Buck makes a frustrated little noise and Eddie knows the face that he would have on if Eddie looked over.

“What’re we watching?” Eddie looks at Chris, ignoring Buck.

Chris clicks play on a video of three guys with accents dropping a giant Thor hammer onto a trampoline covered in ball bearings and for a moment they all pause to stare at the slow motion result because the impact is like a bomb.

He looks over at Buck who is looking at him like he knows just what Eddie just did, and stares right back because he’d said he was going to help Buck with recovering.

They have a silent argument in just looks, and Eddie thinks he wins when Buck pouts and eats, looking back at the screen instead of fighting Eddie with more glares.

The weight on Eddie’s thigh gets a little heavier, which Eddie knows means Buck has relaxed his leg, letting himself actually rest his bulk onto Eddie. He tries to hold in the smug smile of victory, but based on how Buck’s good foot pokes into his thigh in the lightest version of a kick he doesn’t manage it.

Buck’s weight settles after that, and Eddie lets himself warm at the press of him, the solidness of Buck letting Eddie support him, even in a very small way.

Eddie does not care about the bowling balls being destroyed on screen, but he still would happily have hundreds or thousands of afternoons like this one. Chris snorting in laughter as he eats, Buck gasping in surprise and pointing at a piece of something shooting off camera as he adds some chips to his plate.

Chris selects something else and Eddie takes the bag of chips from Buck, pouring out a handful next to the second half of his sandwich.

The guys make a dirty joke that clearly goes over Chris’s head, which Eddie silently thanks god for because he doesn’t have the energy to explain anything like that right now and he had promised himself when Chris was born that he would answer questions and not shut him up because abstinence education is exactly how Eddie ended up with a wife and a kid before he could legally drink.

He looks over at Buck, trying to communicate the phew with just a widening of his eyes, and Buck nods minutely, smiling then turning to look at the screen his hand coming to his lips as he does, shiny with grease and salt that Buck licks off his thumb unconsciously. It’s just a swipe of tongue, but Eddie can’t pull his eyes away, tracking the movement, the way Buck swipes his thumb on his tongue.

Eddie feels the heat of a blush on his cheeks, a dryness in his throat that he doesn’t really know what to do with, so he stuffs a couple chips in his mouth at the same time as he tries to swallow down the moment of heat, the combination making his mouth feeling even dryer as the salt and potato hit his tongue.  

He doesn’t cough, but his eyes water a little and he has to clear his throat quietly so Chris and Buck won’t look over. 

Buck looks over anyway, because he’s Buck, and Eddie takes a bite of sandwich to hide his blush and mild throat discomfort, eyes turning to the screen where apparently they’ve moved on to the three guys trying to hit basketball shots from the top of a dam in some mountains Eddie’s never seen.

“D-do you think you…” Chris asks and Eddie and Buck look over, and Eddie’s glad the focus is off of him, “be able to do th-that?”

Buck tilts his head like a dog hearing an interesting sound, looking at the set up seriously then over at Eddie, “your dad probably could.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “could I?”

“Sure, it’s basketball.” Buck points at the screen where one man has managed to miss by what must be hundreds of feet. “You’re great at basketball.”

That makes Eddie’s chest tighten in fondness, the complete and sort of insane and unwarranted amount of belief Buck has in him sometimes, so he just looks over and smiles, shaking his head, “ that’s not basketball. That’s like threading a needle from ten feet away.”

“They’re professionals.” Chris chimes in, “a-and they miss most times.”

“Exactly.” Eddie smiles over at his son, because even though a part of him misses the kid who thought his father could do no wrong, a far bigger part loves how practical Christopher is. How realistic and honest. It makes him feel like he must have done something right to raise a kid like him. 

Buck frowns, popping another chip in his mouth and crunching loudly, gesturing widely at the screen, “basketball plus hoop. I still say you could do it.”

Eddie can’t help himself from putting one hand on Buck’s shin in thanks, nearly down at the bone of his ankle, surprised at how he could probably encircle it with his whole hand, unsure if that’s because Buck’s not known for his attention to leg day or if it’s because his own hands are big.

Shannon had liked it when he had his grip around her, a hand around her wrist when she was in bed next to him, arm around her waist when they were kids at high school parties, a light press of fingerprints on each side of her throat when they got back together.

Some part of his brain wonders if Buck likes it too, but he shakes his head and pulls his hand back, covering up the quickness of the movement by reaching for a potato chip.

He’s been drifting too much today, probably could have slept more last night after the rescue and hospital. 

The important thing is Buck is home and safe and letting Eddie care for him. Eddie doesn’t need to think about anything else.

__

Buck wakes up when his knee gets jostled, a jolt of pain making him wince and suck in a breath. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says quietly, “just getting your meds.”

Buck opens his eyes, looking around, surprised it seems like a good amount of time has passed since he drifted off when Eddie and Chris had put on some movie that Buck didn’t recognize. The main page of Netflix is open, which means they finished the movie while he was out.

He sits up, annoyed at how his back and arms complain from the work of the hike on top of his leg. He feels like with how much he suffered he deserves to at least not have normal levels of soreness from a work out. 

Eddie’d moved him to get up, which means– Buck tries to remember how long the movie had been– means Eddie had been his pillow for at least a couple hours. Had stayed there while Buck slept, seemingly unbothered by having Buck’s leg on his.

He’s in a little too much pain to hold on to the thought, but he tries to remember anyone letting him just lie on them, even just his foot. Maddie had let him fall asleep on her on the couch when he was a kid, but Abby hadn’t liked it when Buck threw an arm over her for too long while they slept– too used to her own space. Taylor would get too hot quickly and liked to work on her phone whenever she got an idea, and Tommy had been more the type to hold Buck rather than be held– not liking the feeling of being caged in.

But Eddie doesn’t mind when Buck leans in close, puts a forearm on his shoulder to yell across him at Hen on a night out, or sometimes climbs over his legs to get to the showers first after a particularly gross call. He’d shouldered most of Buck’s weight on the mountain without question.

Eddie comes back, looking down at Buck with soft eyes, a glass of water in one hand and a pill in the palm of the other. There’s a loose strand of hair on his forehead and a half smile on his lips. He’s a little rumpled, like he maybe also fell asleep while Buck napped, and Buck thinks if he touched Eddie anywhere he’d be radiating heat. Like if Buck even brushed Eddie’s skin he’d be warmed through.

This is why Buck needed to move out.

He reaches out, accepting the pill and glass, and chugs it to avoid thinking too hard about Eddie and so his hands and mouth have something to do other than say something stupid or reach out to touch things he shouldn’t.

He hands back the glass, plasters on a grin, and looks around, “how long was I out?”

“Few hours.” Eddie doesn’t say it like he’s frustrated that Buck took up his space, or like he minded being trapped, he says it like he knows Buck needed it.

Buck nods, then turns away from Eddie, putting his foot on the ground, looking around for the crutch he’ll need once he can lever himself up onto his working leg.

Eddie’s there faster than Buck can stand, which isn’t saying much because Buck’s slow at the moment, but he’s handing Buck crutches and knocking the table out of Buck’s way and it’s so kind that Buck kind of wants to scream because he’d been doing so well . He’d found a hobby and worked to make sure he was seeing everyone in his life more– he’d even gotten to sit with Connor and Kameron without feeling like maybe he’s in a parallel universe where his dreams were all almost answered. He’d decorated another apartment and tried not to feel like the walls were closing in around him while he put up the photos of his family– hadn’t succeeded when he put a framed picture of Bobby and him at the grill from some night he doesn’t really remember with much detail but wishes he could step back into anyways. He’s given people space and processed as best he can on his own and not thought about the things he can’t think about because once he does he’ll have to process yet another thing he just can’t and that might actually break him.

Eddie’s close enough that he’s filling most of Buck’s vision– he hasn’t stepped back to let Buck move, seems to be waiting to see where Buck will head, but Buck doesn’t know he doesn’t have a plan he just needs to escape the all-encompassing presence of Eddie. “I gotta shower.” He blurts out because it’s the only place he can think of where he will be alone and if he has to cry it’ll be washed away by the time he’s ready to be near people again.

“I was gonna say something.” Eddie jokes like he doesn’t notice Buck’s freaking out, which maybe means Buck’s hiding it better than he thinks, but probably just means Eddie’s letting him get away with the freak out for a bit so he can see what kind of bad it is. 

Buck needs to get it together so Eddie can stop worrying.

Eddie brings him the towel Buck thinks of as his, it’s blue and big and has a bleach stain on the corner from when Chris and he had tried to make some bleach art shirts for a spirit day at school and Buck hadn’t really considered how far liquid bleach would travel across a surface.

“You have fifteen minutes.” Eddie points at the middle of Buck’s chest with intent, “those meds will make you loopy and even with the grips and handles I don’t trust you hopping around high on one foot.” 

“Kill joy.” Buck rolls his eyes because even though it’s nice to be cared for sometimes Eddie can be a bit of a dad and needs to be made fun of to keep it in check and joking is the only thing he can think of doing to keep himself sounding normal.

Eddie scoffs and pushes him lightly, “go. You stink.”

Buck sticks up his middle finger and only once the door is closed does he sniff himself. He doesn’t smell great , but he doesn’t stink. 

The shower feels good on his aching back, even though he has to hold onto the wall handle the whole time and spinning is annoying. He hadn’t considered the accessibility feature of Eddie’s bathroom when Eddie had taken him in, and it makes him wince thinking how much it’s going to suck balancing in the stall of his shower. Thankfully it’s flat to the ground at least.

The thought of the next few weeks in his apartment, trying to heal and rest without making it so he’ll need any further interventions makes his chest ache. He knows it’s nothing like the truck, but the thought of battling back again, of being hobbled like he was again makes his heart rate tick up.

The dark corner of his mind jokes that at least this time he knows his captain won’t sabotage his return.

He feels immediately like the worst person for the thought. Like he’s glad . 

He knows that’s not how it is, dark humor is a coping strategy for nearly everyone in their field, but he still feels like an asshole.

He keeps his mind carefully fenced in as he lathers himself up with Eddie’s shower gel. He needs to find a way to give Eddie security and peace of mind and to also get out of Eddie’s house as soon as he can because it’s too easy. It’s too easy to sink into the home that Eddie welcomes him in to.

Too easy to want things that he should not and that he cannot ask for.

And that Eddie wouldn’t be able to give and would feel guilty about. And Buck won’t be the cause of more of Eddie’s guilt if he can help it.

So, he’ll find something. He’d looked for a bit through the site he used for Taylor, and they have keychains, so that’s a start, but he knows as well as Eddie does that he’s not the best at having his keys, and they can fall out of pockets in a fall, so he’ll need at least another level of assurance.

He can do this. He can take the worry from Eddie.

He shuts off the water, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes and taking in how the air around him smells like Eddie and Christopher. The smell of the shampoo and body wash they both use is so familiar to Buck. 

He shakes his head, letting water droplets cascade down around him, and carefully hoists himself onto the towel on the floor. It’s not easy getting dry, back into his clothes, and strapping on his brace without jostling his knee, but he does well enough that he doesn’t have to do much other than bite his lip and grit his teeth.

Eddie’s weirdly in the hallway when he exits the bathroom, which means he was hovering while Buck showered, which again is nice and thoughtful but Buck needs Eddie farther away if he’s going to survive another night in Eddie’s home. He leans on the crutches, freeing his hands, and does a little ta da motion, “clean.”

It’s just weird enough that it breaks whatever tension Buck had started to feel in the air, and Eddie just shakes his head and turns around, walking towards the living room, talking over his shoulder as he goes, “I have to order stuff for Chris because apparently the supply list got sent out today and for some reason he needs a graphing calculator. Who needs a graphing calculator in freshman year?”

“I don’t think I ever learned how to use mine.” Buck agrees as he makes his way to the couch, since it’s the place he can be most comfortable, and is glad to find his phone on the table where he left it.

He opens the group chat, tries to ignore the ache of loss he has knowing Bobby won’t message in it even though his number remains a member for as long as no one new has it. Athena’s still paying for the bill, but Buck doesn’t know how long she will. She’s not sentimental like that usually, but since Bobby’s funeral she’s been different, and Buck doesn’t really know how to talk to her about anything.

He makes a vow once he’s figured out how to fix things for Eddie he’ll use his recuperation time to see her.

There’s a few messages he can like and he sends a photo of his brace stretched out in front of him so everyone knows he’s alive and not that badly hurt.

He opens the browser and starts looking.

He is going to make Eddie and Chris feel safe when he’s not around because he can’t stay with them and stay sane, but he can do this.

Chapter Text

Eddie does the little things he needs to around the house– a couple loads of laundry, shopping for Chris’s school stuff, the dishes, a quick check to add things to the grocery list– while Buck sits on the couch. He listens out and hears Buck talk to Maddie, comes in to confirm for her that Buck did, in fact, take the recommended dosage both times, brings Buck a can of sparkling water when he decides to have one himself, and checks with Buck about Eddie’s two options for dinner.

They don’t talk very much, Buck is fixated on something on his phone– he has his get down to the bottom of this face on and Eddie knows to wait for Buck’s info-dump, it’s more fun. 

With anyone else it might be a loaded sort of quiet. He’d once allowed an Army friend to crash on his couch for a night before moving to Los Angeles, and he’d felt like he had to keep checking in to make sure there wasn’t anything he could do. But Eddie doesn’t feel the pressure to be a host to Buck. He brings him things and checks in because he’s happy to, not worried to fulfill a social obligation. Even when Tia Pepa comes over Eddie makes sure to ask questions and tell her stories about work, not a performance– he loves her being around, but he has to be more on when she’s over. 

Buck doesn’t make Eddie feel like that. He’s not a weight on Eddie’s mind when he’s there. 

In fact, Eddie spends far more time worrying about Buck when he’s not in Eddie’s house than he ever does when he is. He’s like Christopher in that way. Eddie feels better, more himself, when Chris is home. That’s the whole reason he uprooted his life to live in El Paso again, after all. Chris being with Eddie is right.

Buck being with Eddie is right too. 

Eddie frowns at the bathroom counter he’s cleaning because it’s a day off and he hasn’t done it in over a week. 

He looks at his reflection, then through it, letting his vision rest on nothing, wishing again that he’d somehow managed to pin Buck down and make him stay before he signed another lease. Before he boxed his stuff and himself up and pulled back, away from Eddie. 

Eddie makes brief eye contact with himself, remembering the night that feels like it may as well have been months ago, seeing himself with a clean shaven face for the first time in too long, the taste of a maybe on his tongue. Dancing just for fun, not for judges or points or with everyone watching and tsking at a wedding that probably should have waited until the bride and groom could legally drink the toast to their happiness.

Buck knocking on the door, six pack in hand and sadness in his eyes hadn’t made Eddie happy, but it also hadn’t ruined his night even with the mood shift because even with Buck staring into space at his side while Eddie brought his own heart rate down it had felt like the house was more his home with Buck there.

He frowns, looks down and scrubs harder at a rust stain that has never gone away in all the years he’s been cleaning the bathroom.

Buck doesn’t have anyone in his apartment to scrub at rust spots while he heals. People care about him, of course, but Maddie’s busy with Robbie and Jee and Chim is barely treading water with captaincy paperwork and Hen has a full house and Ravi’s still working out how willing he is to be part of the whole A shift thing and Bobby–

Bobby used to bring meals when people got hurt. He’d drop off a grocery bag of casserole dishes meant for the oven with temperatures and times written on the foil covers. Eddie’s chest tightens in the same way it had the first time he’d found a hair elastic under his bed while cleaning after Shannon’s accident. The reality that he couldn’t ever hand it over, couldn’t loop it over her wrist. 

The job comes with injuries, it’s only a matter of time before Eddie’s on leave again, he knows it, and next time there won’t be a tray of baked pasta ready for him when he opens his fridge. There isn’t anything waiting for Buck at his apartment. No favorite casserole or carefully wrapped garlic bread ready for the oven.

Eddie swallows down the lump in his throat at the emptiness that comes from losing someone like Bobby. It had been too long since they’d last talked beyond some waves when he and Buck FaceTimed at the firehouse. The captain in El Paso had sent Eddie Bobby’s recommendation letter– Eddie hasn’t read it. It’s buried in his email.

He pushes his palms into his eyes, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying not to get pulled down by the sadness while he cleans a bathroom. He’s fine . It’s just the reality hitting him that Bobby’s not here for the first team injury, even if it happened off shift.

Eddie looks at the door, thinks about how shuttered Buck’s face still gets at mentions of Bobby. How many reminders are going to be in Buck’s apartment while he’s healing alone.

Buck should stay. Eddie just– he’ll make a better case for it. He’ll find the right words to get Buck to stay until he’s healthy and not a fall risk. Because Buck is part of Eddie’s home and Eddie hasn’t done enough to make that clear.

He gives up on the rust stain and heads back into the livingroom to start making a plan. 

__

Buck looks up from his phone having lost more time to comparing options and combing through reddit threads than he expected. Usually something would have come up by this point. The dishwasher would have sung its little song, or the upstairs neighbor he hasn’t complained about yet would have moved what sounds like another boulder across the floor, or Eddie would have messaged him about something.

But Eddie doesn’t need to message because Buck’s in his house, and he’s been mildly aware of Eddie puttering around for the past few hours. Something in Buck likes the way Eddie moves without constantly checking in like Maddie would. Without sniffing in annoyance like his mother used to when he spent any amount of time ‘lazing around’ or coming up with chores that had to be done like his father. 

Eddie can be a passive aggressive asshole when he wants to be, no question, but he’s far more likely to just say the bitchy thing so at least Buck doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. But Eddie’s not being judgy or sniping at him, he’s letting Buck be without leaving Buck feeling alone. Buck’s algorithm had, at some point, started feeding him videos about body doubling– having someone else around while you do things your brain can’t without company, and there’s a kind of peace that comes from just having someone else nearby. The fact that that feeling grows exponentially when the person is Eddie is something Buck chooses to not think about too much.

He knows Bobby got him a partner for all sort of reasons, but he can’t help wonder if his captain had known something big about Buck that Buck’s only starting to get far enough away to make out in full. 

From the steady lessening of noise Eddie seems to have done all he needs to do while Buck filled up carts with items and paid for express shipping and made a plan to ask Chimney for a couple extra shifts so they disappear from his credit debt as fast as possible.

His cheeks are warm from embarrassment at some of the brands, but the problem is they don’t really make what he wants readily available, something that makes sense after he’s read through horror stories of people getting found by exes after running away.

Eddie walks in with two clementines in his hand, one already peeled, and Buck notices how small they look, practically fitting in Eddie’s palm, “you want?” Eddie gestures at him, speaking around a segment.

Buck nods quickly to cover for the way his chest screams at him to answer a bigger unintentional question folded in and around the offer of fruit.

Eddie passes him the half he’s already peeled and starts on another, perching sideways on the back of the couch while Buck looks up at him. “You done with your research?”

Buck’s eyebrows go up, because he hadn’t said anything, “uh–”

“You had your” Eddie frowns exaggeratedly, “face on.”

Buck wonders if couches can eat people sometimes. Just hinge like a giant mouth and swallow him whole. He knows pull out couches can, he’s had to get more than one person out of one. “I don’t make a face.”

Eddie laughs as he hand over the second half, popping another segment in his mouth, “you definitely have a face.”

The two halves in Buck’s hands don’t match, which means Eddie’s eating the other parts of each of his bites. Sharing makes them taste sweeter, he thinks. 

“I was trying to see–” he pulls up suddenly, feeling suddenly weirdly nervous and self-conscious. Something in his stomach rolling when he imagines explaining himself before anything arrives. “I-I was reading up on knee stuff.” 

Eddie tilts his head in interest, “any good recovery strategies?”

Thankfully Buck had actually looked at some things as a way to appease Maddie’s concern, “you know the drill. RICE method.” 

Eddie nods, chewing on another segment, “pretty much what the doctor said too. Keeping off it as much as you can.”

Buck stuffs a whole quarter of a fruit into his mouth, turning his head to glare at his own leg, “yeah.”

“It’d be easier–” Eddie starts and Buck can already tell he’s going to make the case for Buck to stay longer. To rest and apply ice and compression and elevate his knee on Eddie’s couch. 

“I’m fine at home, Eddie.” Buck tries to shut the conversation down as fast as he can because they’ve done this argument and Buck only has so much force of will in him, and at some point Eddie is going to ask him to stay and he’ll say yes.

He’ll say yes and then a little bit down the line he’ll break when Eddie very nicely lets him know it’s time for Buck to head back to his apartment. It’s better to be the one to leave than to be the one asked to bow out gracefully. 

Eddie’s eyebrows crinkle in annoyance, “you aren’t , though.”

Buck grits his teeth, “I know what I’m doing, Eddie. I’ve rested a leg before. And this isn’t anything even half as bad. Plus my new place doesn’t have stairs.”

“Neither does this.” Eddie retorts, gesturing at the home around them, “and here you’d at least have someone around if anything is out of reach.”

Buck inhales through his nose, trying not to let Eddie convince him, “I can order in, get a cleaner for a day if it gets bad, but it’s j-just a few weeks, I’ll be fine.”

“Buck–” Eddie sighs, looking over Buck, “I just want–”

Buck waits, wondering if Eddie will say the thing that he’s kept reeling back in so many times in the past few months. Glancing off of full truths. Buck’s not sure what it is, but he’s been running away from hearing it and in his current state there’s no way for him to do that this time.

This time he doesn’t have the energy to fight whatever it is, so he’ll push and finally let Eddie say his piece.

“What?” Buck says, “what do you want?”

Eddie is quiet for a few beats, like he’s looking for words, “I want you to be safe .”

Buck wants to laugh, because even with all the research and prep he’s been doing all day so he can help Eddie feel that way if he’s honest with himself when has being safe worked for any of them? Eddie had just been standing on the street in front of Buck when he got shot, there wasn’t some widespread ban they’d ignored at the tsunami, Maddie had been taken by a cop , Chim and Bobby had both been in full gear when the explosion happened and the universe seemed to not care at all. 

The hysterical giggle gets shoved down and instead he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet Eddie’s, “I know, man. I do.”

“Then why won’t you just stay ?” It’s as close to asking as Eddie has ever gotten, and Buck’s stomach rolls because he can’t answer that.

He looks down at his own hands, still avoiding Eddie’s eyes, “I just want to handle it myself.”

Eddie circles the couch, and crouches down so Buck can’t really avoid looking at him anymore, “fine. Handle it yourself here . I won’t help, I promise. I’ll be hands off– Chris won’t even get you the remote when you need it.”

His eyes are deep and brown and pleading, and Buck knows he’s the one who gets called a dog but Eddie’s got the puppy eyes down when he needs to, and Buck can feel every brick of his resolve crumbling, the thought of being cared for so alluring.

“I- I don’t want to impose–” it’s a weak no, even to his own ears, and he can tell when Eddie sees victory on the horizon, and Buck can feel that he’s going to give in, so he needs to at least throw himself some life preserver to hold on to, a way out before Eddie realizes how much Buck is and before Buck can get comfortable, “fine, but only two more nights. By then I’ll be off the meds that fuck with my balance and then I want to be in my own space, Eddie.”

Eddie’s shoulders drop a little, but Buck can tell he thinks he’s made headway into something more long term. “Good.”

Buck’s going to have to leave while Eddie’s at work. Hopefully Maddie won’t be on shift. And he’s going to have to change where his packages are getting delivered– there’s been some package theft in his apartment recently.

Which actually might help Eddie feel better about Buck leaving, so that’s a win-win.

__

At Buck’s request Eddie helps move him to a kitchen chair, foot still elevated on a second one, so that Buck can join him while he cooks. He’s quiet to start, something clearly still dragging on him, but Eddie draws him out by holding up the worst chopped pieces of onion and pepper and egging Buck into heckling him.

“You and I both know that’s not a mince, Eddie!” Buck groans even as he laughs, “what are you doing to that garlic?”

Eddie smiles down at the board, “making a stir fry.”

“ Murdering poor vegetables, it looks like.” Buck sits up as high as he can, trying to look over the counter.

Eddie points the knife at Buck, feeling warm and right even as he’s being snarked at, “we can start the hands off thing right now, if you want. You can order something all your own.”

Buck’s mouth falls open for a second, and Eddie wonders if maybe it’s too soon to joke, but then Buck’s laughing, wide and loud, filling the space with a lightness Eddie craves.

“Dad!” Chris yells from his room, and Eddie looks in the direction, “can I stay at a friend’s tomorrow night?”

Eddie glances to the wall calendar, noting that both he and Chris have doctor appointments next week, but nothing tomorrow, “which friend?”

“Andy!” Chris yells back, and Eddie glances at Buck, who frowns, looking up trying to remember who Andy is. “The one with the mom with green hair!”

Eddie likes how Buck’s face lights up in recognition right as he also remembers who Andy is, “have her call me to confirm, but sure! You’re going to miss out on Indiana Jones Day!”

The corner of Buck’s lips turn down, the movement catching Eddie’s eye, making his gaze linger on the pink.

There’s a thoughtful silence. “Can we swap it for next week and you guys do, like, all the Fast and Furious or something?”

Eddie drags his eyes back up to Buck’s, waiting on his opinion– on his agreement to be back for a whole day again even with his recent unwillingness to hang around. Buck blinks, then nods, so Eddie yells back, “okay, but that means no sleep over next week!”

“Deal!” Chris agrees quickly, and Eddie laughs, shaking his head, volume lower, “I feel like there’s a few years of peace with kids, and once they’re teens it’s all yelling through doors even if it’s good stuff.”

“My parents ignored me until I gave up or came down and asked them.” Buck pulls a face, and Eddie nods not because he agrees but because he knows the Buckleys wouldn’t have stood for a house full of volume like that.

He drags the knife across the cutting board, pushing vegetables into a sizzling pan, “I didn’t yell, but I also snuck out the window instead of asking if I could sleep at people’s houses.” 

“I mostly climbed back in that way because I knew I couldn’t call and get picked up when stuff went bad at a party.” Buck takes a sip of his sparkling water.

Eddie thinks about Christopher running away from him, about how it felt not speaking to him openly, about the distance that’s come with puberty and pain, “you think he’ll call me if a party he’s at gets out of hand?”

Buck tilts his head like he’s actually giving it thought, like he’s not just placating Eddie’s worries. “I think so, but if he doesn’t, I think he’d maybe call me– and then I’d call you.”

Eddie moves the vegetables around so they won’t burn, taking in the words. He thinks about how much hangs in the air: both of their parents’ absences with them but presence with their grandchildren, the support Buck’s given without expecting the same in return, Chris’s complicated relationship with both of them as he ages.

“E-even great parents aren’t every kid’s first call.” Buck continues, speech picking up speed the way it does when he’s worried, “but Chris is smarter- smarter than any kids I knew at his age.”

Eddie laughs lightly, “he’s probably smarter now than I was at any point in school.”

“Low bar.” Buck teases.

Eddie checks the rice, fluffs it with a fork and drizzles sauce over the chicken and vegetables that look the right amount of cooked but not mushy. Buck deserves to know Eddie isn’t hurt by the fact that Chris probably would reach out to Buck as another option. He’s only hurt that he’s done enough damage that Chris might not call him first. He keeps his eyes on the pan as he stirs, “I’d want him to call you.”

Even over the hiss of the food he can hear Buck’s inhale, “yeah?

Eddie nods, “I didn’t– I don’t really trust my parents, and I had abuela if I needed someone to talk to, but– I didn’t have someone like you back then.”

“Eddie–” Eddie doesn’t have to look at Buck to know what he looks like, like Eddie sucker punched him, “he loves you.”

Eddie does look at Buck then, who looks awestruck and lost and honored, “yeah. He loves you too.”

Buck blinks rapidly, like he’s working not to cry, and shakes his head, “you are such an asshole. I’m injured. This is mean to say to someone emotionally compromised right before dinner.”

“You’ll live.” Eddie shrugs, then calls out, “Chris! Dinner!”

Buck scrambles to turn in such a way that he can move the placemats on the table into their spots, and Chris comes in quicker than Eddie would have guessed, considering that he’s pretty sure there was some video game being played. 

They’re sitting together mere moments later, food steaming, table a ring of quiet conversation and a catch up about which classes Andy had taken with Chris, and who else is going to be at the sleep over. It feels like home and family and everything Eddie’s ever wanted for himself and his son. 

Eddie lets himself have a moment where he considers what that means for him. Wonders what he’ll do when Buck finds someone. Scowls down at the plate in front of him, thinking about Buck’s past relationships and the extend to which not one of them deserved Buck. Not one of them saw how amazing Buck is. How special and kind and full of life he is. How he lights up a room and makes days better.

He stabs at his food, wondering how people could have let Buck go. He wouldn’t, if he were with Buck. Buck deserves to be loved. 

He looks up at the man in question and Buck’s quirking an eyebrow at him, so he just stuffs a fork full of peppers and chicken into his mouth and Buck shakes his head and turns back to Chris. Eddie swallows down the bite that’s too hot while Buck asks Chris about whether he’d seen some game re-release that is happening, tries to focus on not choking.

“They’re going to h- have an online event for- for the release.” Chris remarks and Eddie thinks he can hear the silent invitation in teenager speak.

“What night? If Buck and I are off we can stream it, get some pizza.” He suggests, hoping he read the tone right.

Chris smiles, “that w-would be cool.” And Eddie does an internal fist pump and looks over at Buck, mouths that would be cool when Chris is looking at his food, and Buck grins back because even though it shouldn’t matter it feels good to get a seal of approval from an occasionally surly teen.

He realizes while listening to Chris talk about the game he’d been playing that Buck didn’t protest at all another night with Chris, even if it’s just a random streamer event on a night off. Which means Eddie is the reason Buck is off. 

He glances at the kitchen behind Buck, thinks about the words he’d hissed at Buck– the hand in Buck’s face.

He’s got a couple of nights to show Buck how much he cares, and that he hadn’t meant everything he said as cruelly as it had come out. That he’d lashed out in grief and anger and known just which barbs to throw at Buck. Because Buck was supposed to be his person and he hadn’t– he hadn’t let Eddie be his.

“What time does Andy want you over, bud?” He asks at the next break in the conversation.

Chris shrugs, then pulls out his phone, which they both know isn’t allowed at the table, but this is a reasonable exception. “He said he’s free all- all day and that his mom will call after dinner.”

“Great.” Eddie mentally prepares himself to see how long they can get so he can maximize the time needed to make things right with Buck. 

__

Buck’s lying in bed on his phone redirecting packages to Eddie’s address before they get sent out and making sure one more time that he has every product he can imagine. He’s deep into another set of forums, reading people’s stories of celebratory reunions and comparing product recommendations.

“Buck. It’s time to sleep.” Eddie’s voice is growly and deep next to him, and it makes him drop his phone on his nose.

“Fuck!” He rubs at the bridge, “Eddie, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” Eddie’s hand moves over, hovering near Buck like he doesn’t know what to do with it, but settles eventually for the blanket next to Buck’s arm, there’s a combination of regret and mirth in his voice, like he’s trying to hold back laughter, “I thought you’d be able to hold onto a phone.”

“ Asshole .” Buck whispers, trying to make up for the loud outburst so they don’t wake Chris, putting his phone down on the bedside table and looking over at the dark shape of Eddie, realizing he’s far closer than he’d expected, probably from rolling over to look at Buck’s flail.

Eddie snorts, breaking, “you’ve held onto a ledge with your whole weight on your grip but a phone? ”

Buck gestures emphatically, “I was surprised! You jump scared me.”

“I’ve been here for an hour, Buck.” Eddie’s still laughing lightly, coming more into view as Buck’s eyes adjust to the darkness, his hand flat on the light sheet next to Buck. “I should not be a jump scare.”

“I knew that.” Buck mutters, “said goodnight when you came in.”

He’s pretty sure he did, at least. He mostly was focused on looking intently at his screen while not looking at Eddie change for sleep because even though he’s pretty sure it doesn’t bother Eddie he doesn’t want to be someone who just looks at guys without permission or anything. He’s seen Eddie in every state of dress and undress, but that doesn’t give him carte blanche to watch from the bed.

The bed that he’d tried again to get Eddie to sleep in alone while he took the couch. The one Eddie had crossed his arms next to, looking annoyed, and said that he’d slept just fine last night so Buck could manage. The one that Buck

“And now it’s after midnight and whatever you’re on a deep dive about can wait. We have a marathon tomorrow.” Eddie’s hand moves, tapping knuckles softly against Buck’s side. “You hate watching movies when you stay up too late looking at screens. It tires out your eyes.”

Buck doesn’t know when he told Eddie that, but it’s true, and he likes the careful pressure of Eddie’s hand into his arm, the heat of him in Buck’s skin. 

“Yeah yeah.” He shifts, knocking Eddie’s hand away lightly with the movement, trying to make it seem accidental, but needing space between them.

Eddie huffs, pulling his hand back a little, and Buck simultaneously wants to pull it back and move even more so it’s no where within reach, “you’ll thank me by the time we’re at Tokyo Drift.”

Buck waves towards him dismissively, twisting to make sure his phone is actually flat on the table, “I put my phone down already, Diaz.”

“I expect gratitude when we see Lil Bow Wow.” Eddie’s voice is quieting, a little muffled by his pillow.

“What the hell is Lil Bow Wow?” Buck asks quietly, looking over at Eddie, who frowns into the pillow but doesn’t open his eyes.

“He was a kid rapper. Shh. Sleep.” 

Buck watches his friend’s face for a beat before whispering, “why would they let a kid become a famous rapper?”

“ Dios , Buck, I don’t know, he just got famous.” Eddie’s face scrunches up but his eyes stay closed, lashes long and dark against his cheeks.

“What would a kid have to rap about? It’s not like he has experienced much–” Buck’s cut off by Eddie’s hand covering most of the bottom of his face, not hard, just enough to muffle him.

“I will listen to every moment of your deep dive on him tomorrow.” Eddie says while still holding on, “promise.”

Buck’s mind goes silent as Eddie’s hand squeezes lightly, probably meant playfully, but he’s now cataloguing how much of his cheeks Eddie’s hand spans, how easily he spans all of Buck’s jaw. Mind storing away the information even as his common sense screams at him to ignore it.

“Nod if you hear me, bud.” Eddie’s voice cuts through the static, and Buck nods, trying to keep a hold of his own thoughts without making Eddie question the way his blood is racing in his veins. “Good.”

Eddie’s hand leaves a print of cold on Buck’s face as he lets go and Buck uses every ounce of his willpower not to whine. He covers it with a grimace, “you’re such an older sibling.”

Eddie’s grin is a flash of light in the darkness, “makes sense I know how to handle you.”

Buck’s mind starts pulling up the hundreds of meanings that could have, so he does the mature thing and sticks out his tongue, “get ready for a presentation on the complete works of Lil Bow Wow tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” Eddie laughs into the pillow again, and Buck tries to ignore the goosebumps on his arms.

He lies still, listening as Eddie slowly falls asleep, trying to fill his mind with lyrics and questions and lists of things to do back at his apartment. Anything other than the memory of the feeling of Eddie’s skin on his, the easy strength in the grip that leads Buck’s mind down paths he cannot walk.

Eventually he falls asleep counting Eddie’s breaths. 54 55 56 57…

Chapter Text

Eddie wakes up to a wet gasp, pulled quickly out of sleep by the pained sound. He looks over at Buck who is turned on his side, soft noises choking out of him.

“Buck?” Eddie whispers into the dark air, trying to figure out if he’s asleep. There’s no response, just continued sounds of quiet crying, muttered half words that sound like pleas.

He turns, propping himself up on his elbow, reaching out, and puts his hand lightly on Buck’s shoulder, feels the shake of a sob move through them both, “Buck, wake up.”

Buck gasps out another choked inhale and stiffens under Eddie’s touch, head moving back and forth until he turns in Eddie’s direction, “Eds?”

“Yeah, you-” Eddie tightens his grip minutely, trying to ground Buck, “you were–”

Buck sniffs, “fuck. Sorry, just–” his breathing is fast and wet, like he can’t get enough oxygen in.

Eddie doesn’t move his hand, just lets Buck realize where he is, that he’s safe, that whatever nightmare he just had is gone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck shakes his head, “it’s just– I was– I hate my brain, you know?”

“Yeah.” Eddie does know because he’s spent enough time trying to work through his own shit that Buck’s makes sense too. 

Buck’s breathing has slowed to normal, “I don’t- I know you don’t want to– it was just lab stuff.”

“You can talk about it.” Eddie says softly, “just because I wasn’t there doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

Buck scoffs, rubbing a hand over his face and knocking Eddie’s hand off so Eddie pulls it back into the space between them, wishing he could reconnect them almost immediately. “I don’t think– you don’t need this too, Eddie.”

Eddie frowns, wishing he could see Buck clearly in the dark, “I know what I can handle.”

“Since when?” Buck sniffs, aiming for a joke so Eddie tries not to take it personally, “I spent– I wanted to be in there, but all I could do was run around with Athena and- and I tried , I tried to get him to try. I begged him, but all I got was– and now I’m always outside the window. It’s not– it changes who, changes what they tell me.”

Eddie’s chest tightens, thinking of Buck uselessly slamming against safety glass with Maddie or Christopher behind it, bleeding out in the worst way imaginable. He has to reach out again, putting his hand on Buck’s forearm, “I’m sorry.”

Buck doesn’t recoil, but Eddie can tell he’s tense, and he wishes he’d never left, never fucked over his life badly enough that Buck doesn’t lean into his touch anymore. He leaves his hand there, though, because he knows Buck needs something beyond words whispered in the dark.

“You couldn’t have helped, Eddie.” Buck says it soft and quiet, “I promise.”

Eddie’s spent the weeks since Bobby’s death accepting that as much as he can, but this moment isn’t about his own fucked up response to the loss. “I could help now .”

Even in the darkness Eddie catches Buck’s sad smile, “you do help. I’m just– it’s slow.”

Eddie frowns, “there isn’t a timeline, Buck. We don’t– we don’t expect you to just get over it. None of us are.”

“But you all, you all have people.” Buck shifts and Eddie’s hand moves up his arm, pushing the hairs, pulling Eddie’s attention to the strength in the muscles under his hands, “you’re better at moving on because you’ve got families to care for while I’m stuck missing-”

“So do you.” Eddie interrupts because Buck can’t keep thinking he’s alone, not when he’s been the one pulling away and closing off.

“Yeah, but Maddie has Chim and–”

“Not just Maddie, Buck.” Eddie sighs, wishing Buck would just listen , “you’re family. Me and Chris– you’re part of our family.”

Buck stops breathing, and Eddie suddenly wonders if maybe he’s overstepped, if maybe the whole reason Buck wanted to move out was to avoid something like this happening. He’d called himself a nester once to Buck– maybe Buck doesn’t want to be in Eddie’s broken little pile of sticks. He pulls his hand back, “only if you want–”

Buck scrambles into movement, clutching at Eddie’s wrist, “of course I do! You- I- Eddie, I would do anything for you– uh, for you guys.”

Eddie knows that, has ever since Freddie Fakeman and being lifted into a truck while bleeding out and seeing Buck covered in muck and blood calling out for Christopher, lets Buck pull at his wrist, broad blunt fingers wrapped around the bones, “same.”

There’s a silence where Buck just looks at Eddie, and Eddie wonders if he can express himself better, but it’s around three in the morning and Eddie’s never been one for bold proclamations when he can say less. He’s been this honest thanks in part to the darkness of the room, the sadness in Buck’s whole posture, and his promise to himself to make Buck get that Eddie didn’t need space from him, that he’d rather Buck be here.

“You don’t need to get over Bobby, Buck.” He says quietly into the air between them.

Buck sniffs, “no?”

Eddie shakes his head, “he saved all of us. We don’t get over someone like that.”

“Yeah.” Buck swallows, and they’re close enough that Eddie can hear it, “I just– I don’t know how to move forward.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods, “that’s normal.” He shifts his weight so he’s back flat, face against the pillow, pulling Buck with him so Buck settles back down, “maybe start by letting us be with you? Stop running out into the wilderness.”

Buck’s sigh becomes a yawn, and he lets go of Eddie’s wrist slowly, then gestures down, “don’t worry, I’m grounded.”

Eddie hums, because it’s not enough and not really what he meant, but it’ll work for the moment.

“You’re my family too, Eddie.” Buck says after a pause, voice quieter and a little slow with sleep.

Eddie nods against the pillow case, “yeah, I know.”

He listens as Buck’s breathing evens out and lets himself fall back asleep, wondering what it would be like if this was the way every night could be. 

__

Buck wakes up when Eddie does, the slight shift of the bed making him blink awake. He’s flat on his back, the brace keeping him from sleeping on his side, but he still turns to look at Eddie as he stretches, flash of skin at his lower back paler than the rest of him.

He snaps his eyes up to safer places as Eddie heads out the door and towards the kitchen. 

He looks at the ceiling, thinks about the night’s conversation, the words whispered like it was a sleepover. He’s known for years that Eddie cares for him, of course, but hearing him say that Buck is part of his family hit harder  than Buck would have expected. Especially right after the visual of Chim behind glass, bloody and lost, begging him to take care of Maddie for him, to make sure Jee wouldn’t forget her dad, that Robbie would hear stories about him.

He inhales shakily, wondering not for the first time how he ended up with the family he has, thinking about the lost kid who started at the 118 with a sister who wouldn’t pick up his calls and a team that spent more time sighing in annoyance at his antics than they did fighting fires most days. The kid who’d filled the empty space in his chest with affection from any source he could find.

He could never have predicted the way it’s gone. Having Maddie back, bringing Chim in as a brother, a niece and nephew, Hen and Karen’s warmth, and Eddie– Eddie bringing not just himself into Buck’s life, but Chris too. Bobby’s mentorship and love still hurts to think about, but in the soft light of morning it does feel a little less like an open wound than it has since the funeral.

He picks up his phone and opens his text chain to Athena because it’s been too long since he messaged her. He thinks for a few minutes, then types while im healing up if you ever want to help me perfect some of Bobby’s recipes I’d love a taste tester and then sits up, wincing at the pull of his bruises and cuts.

His knee hurts, but less than the previous morning, and there’s an ache that he recognizes as his body starting to figure out how to compensate for immobility. He grabs the crutches and makes his way slowly into the kitchen where it sounds like Eddie’s making coffee.

“It’s still the same roast.” Eddie says challengingly when Buck looks longingly at the coffeemaker. 

Buck wrinkles his nose, wishing Eddie had just had the heart to turn down the kid at the store, but unwilling to face the day with no caffeine, “I’ll manage.”

Eddie’s smile is too victorious for Buck’s taste, but he supposes it’s earned.

Half way through the coffee that Buck makes faces about even as he drinks it gratefully his phone buzzes, and Athena’s response pops up on his screen I’d like that Buckaroo. It makes Buck smile, the idea that maybe he could do something to help both of them while anchored in his apartment.

He sits at the table so he doesn’t have to keep propped up on crutches, opens his phone, and hearts the message before checking his email and seeing that the first two of his purchases should arrive at Eddie’s by four, which makes him glad he has a Prime membership so he can begin setting up operation Give Eddie and Chris Certainty.

He vows he’ll think of something more catchy before he shows Eddie during the movie marathon. It can be a trial run before Chris. Or maybe the second package can be for Chris, and Eddie gets this one.

It might be hard, he realizes, to open the boxes without Eddie snooping, but he can cross that bridge when he comes to it. He really doesn’t want Eddie to see the packaging, the gift is about the execution, not the brands and Buck’s not sure he can handle the amount of teasing he’s opening himself up to. He might have to use the injured card.

“When is Chris headed to Andy’s?” He asks, wondering if the schedule will line up so he can get everything ready before Eddie comes back.

“His mom said around two, so if you have anything you want from the stores while I’m doing the drop off let me know.” Eddie says from inside the fridge as he pulls out eggs, spinach, and a package of shredded cheese.

“Good coffee?” Buck asks more because he knows it’ll bug Eddie than for any need of it.

Eddie shoots him an unimpressed look over the bread bag he’s opening, “even if I bought a different coffee I’m not opening a second bag before this one’s finished.”

Buck sighs theatrically, “guess I’ll survive.”

“You’ve made it through slightly worse, I think.” Eddie looks at Buck’s leg propped up on the chair.

Buck sighs again, “I dunno, this coffee is pretty high on my worst things list.”

Buck deserves the chunk of crust thrown at his head, he can admit it. The laughter in Eddie’s eyes when Buck catches it before it hits the ground and eats it with relish is a bonus.

__

They’re most of the way through the first film but Buck’s been checking his phone so much that Eddie’s not sure he won’t have to remind Buck who people are in the second, although from his memory of seeing it last he doesn’t think too many of the original cast are in 2 Fast 2 Furious.

He knows Paul Walker is, which is good because Eddie likes Brian’s character, all his easy smiles and swagger, blue eyes and blonde curls and flirting with most people on screen unless he’s crossing his arms and being stubborn about making a stupid choice that will endanger him. 

“You think you would jump off a hood of a car onto a moving truck?” He asks, and Buck nods quickly, having put his phone down during the scene because even whatever he’s focused on doesn’t beat a high speed rescue.

“Of course.” Buck smiles over at him, “especially if you’re driving the car.”

“I was paid to drive professionally.” Eddie muses, wincing at the wire slicing into Vince’s arm, “just not sure you’d stick the landing.”

“Excuse me?” Buck gawks at him, “I could totally make that jump.”

Eddie points at the truck racing down the highway, “Brian’s got reach on you, I don’t–”

Buck is immediately in his phone, “Paul Walker was six two. I am six two. Brian’s got shit on me. Plus he mostly drives a car, I repel down buildings! I rescue people for a living! He is a street racer slash FBI guy.” Eddie covers up the spark of something that that knowledge ignites in him by screwing up his face like he doesn’t quite believe Buck, which earns him an interruption, “no no no, the only way this scene would be different if it was us is you would actually know what to do for that arm.”

Eddie doesn’t know what he did to earn the level of faith Buck always has in him, but it makes his cheeks flush every time, “I’d still want you to call in the rescue chopper.”

Buck nods, “even though Vince is an ass who deserves nothing he doesn’t need to die.”

Eddie offers out a fist and Buck taps it, “when you’re right you’re right.”

Eddie’s pretty sure if he and Buck set their minds to it they could be a good crime team. If the costumes were more distinctive he’d probably suggest going as Dom and Brian for Halloween. He has enough tank tops and might even still have an ugly cross necklace his mother gave him for Christmas years ago.

They watch as Dom’s face goes through fury and disappointment and betrayal, and Buck’s phone stays on the pillow in his lap, he leans forward and points at the screen intently, “I know this movie is old and no one would have been cool with it, but this movie would be way better if they were a couple.”

Eddie considers it, looking at Dom’s anger as Brian gets in his face, “would it?”

Buck perks up, looking at Eddie, “of course! Think about the layer of betrayal! Also, tell me they’re not–” he waves at the screen, “super close for teammates. It’s like someone read the first draft and was like no no no, this can’t be gay, w-we need Brian interested in… Dom’s sister? And Dom will be into… a different mechanic slash driver… who is also a girl.”

That makes Eddie laugh not in derision but surprise, “it is kind of like they gave them each a girl version.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Dom’s sister doesn’t add anything– just have Brian seduce Dom instead and then the team’s distrust makes sense because they’re worried about Dom being blinded by lust! And it would make the speed he flips from suspicion to trusting Brian make so much more sense.” Buck looks like he’s getting ready to start coming up with a better alternate universe plot, and Eddie looks away from the heartbreaking death on screen just to hear Buck, “and here! The fight could be layered !”

“I’d watch it.” Eddie nods along because Buck makes a good point, he’s never understood why Brian even liked Mia apart from instructions by the FBI and then some obligation to her because he’d started a relationship under forced circumstances.

Buck nods enthusiastically, “I think Dom could throw Brian, too, which–” he stalls out, seeming realizing he’s talking about things he and Eddie don’t usually mention, his cheeks flushing a little “which would… convince some people to go see it.”

Eddie tries to not think too hard about the new fact that Buck clearly likes someone in charge, someone strong and capable. It’s not surprising he supposes, since Buck might not be a rule follower, but he often likes being given clear instructions and having the burden of choice taken from him. Eddie’s no Vin Diesel, but he’s sure he can lift Buck, he trains alongside him, has had to throw people over his shoulder more than once. His mouth goes a little dry, so he takes a sip of his sparkling water and looks back at the screen, at the motorcycle gun fight, and goes with agreement so Buck won’t fell embarrassed, “some people, yeah.”

The air is weighty with something, gunfire and revving motors the only sound until Buck’s phone buzzes and he looks at it quickly, hands almost sloppy with the speed, he looks to the door, and Eddie glances up to see the Amazon delivery driver getting back into his truck.

“You order something?” Eddie asks even though he can tell that Buck did.

Buck’s blush returns, “yeah, it’s– uh, to help with–” he sort of gestures at his whole body, which means nothing clear to Eddie, “I’ll deal with it when you go to drop off.”

Eddie wonders if maybe it’s a better brace, “you sure? I can grab it–”

“No!” Buck answers too abruptly, too loud, and Eddie’s immediately curious about what could be in the package.

“What’s–” he leans forward to stand, and Buck’s hand smacks at his thigh.

“It’s for hikes! I don’t need–” Buck waves Eddie down, and Eddie knows he doesn’t keep the frown off his face, “it’s just so I can be safer.”

Eddie can’t think of a single way that Buck could guarantee safety unless he agrees to start hiking with Eddie, which he doesn’t seem willing to do. “Great.” He tries to keep the frustration out of his voice but knows he fails the second the word leaves his lips. 

Buck screws up his face and looks down at his phone, “I’m trying , Eddie.”

He sounds smaller than Eddie thinks of Buck as, and he immediately feels even worse about his tone, mind back in the argument in the kitchen. He’s meant to be getting Buck to stay , not driving him back out, not sniping at him whenever he’s worried. He swallows, relaxing back into the couch, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Buck looks at him sideways, shoulders still high, back curled a little, but whatever he sees or hears must be enough, because he leans back too, foot stilling up on the coffee table where it’s been the whole film, “okay.”

Eddie nods, feeling the flare of worry that had flashed through him at the thought of Buck back on the trails die down. 

The silence gets more comfortable again as they watch the race towards the train track, Dom’s bold move ending with him flipping through the air. Brian’s handing Dom the keys to his own car, unwilling to let Dom go back to prison, ready to trade in his own career for it. The intensity of their eye contact.

“Gay.” Buck says quietly, startling Eddie a little.

“Can you say that?”

Buck nods quickly, “it’s fine if it’s to talk about something actually gay and not as an insult.”

Eddie supposes that makes sense. He watches the way Brian makes his case to Dom, the flashing blue of his eyes full of the same stubbornness Buck has when making his case, Dom’s own worry and hurt so clear in his own movements. When he looks at it with Buck’s voice in his mind it is pretty gay. “I’d watch it.”

Buck seems to get what he means without Eddie needing to clarify, but he sounds a little surprised, “yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie assures him without looking over, because he would , he wants Buck to know he’s not hung up on who’s with who, that he gets Buck. He glances over and Buck is smiling, which makes Eddie feel like he’s done the right thing.

“DAD!” Chris yells from the other room, “h-how much longer?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Buck, “movie just finished. You got everything you need?”

“Yeah!” Chris comes in, backpack in hand, looking ready. He puts the bag on the ground and looks expectantly at Eddie.

“Toothbrush? Charger? Underwear? Extra socks?” Buck asks across Eddie.

Chris rolls his own eyes, “yes.” There’s a beat, and then he squints, “wait.”

He heads back into his room, and Eddie looks at Buck, “what do you think?”

“Socks.” Buck says with certainty.

“I’m saying pajamas.”

Buck’s eyebrows go up, but he’s smiling from the challenge, “closest gets to choose dinner.”

“You’re on.” 

When Chris comes down the hall with a ball of socks in his hand Eddie sighs loudly and Buck laughs, both hands rising in victory, “I want Indian!”

“Of course you do.” Eddie stands, looking at Chris, “you couldn’t have forgotten your sleep pants?”

Chris just wrinkles his nose in reply, “you’re both w-weird.”

“But, like, cool weird, right?” Buck says from the couch.

“No.” Gets thrown over Chris’s shoulder and Eddie gapes at Buck while Chris yells out, “have fun watching cars fly!”

He’s unlocking the car for Chris from the doorway when he remembers the package on the stoop and bends, picking it up, and shakes it trying to get a sense of what Buck could have bought. It doesn’t make a recognizable sound, so he just shrugs, walks back into the house and tosses it into the spot he had been sitting, “see you in a bit. Text me if you want snacks.”

Buck’s eyes are staring at the package like he’s moments away from tearing it open, “uh, yeah, sure.”

Eddie looks at the box, wanting to ask again, but the call of “dad!” from the driveway pulls him back out the door. He’ll find out when he gets back, Buck’s usually pretty bad at secrets.

__

Buck only manages to wait until he hears Eddie pull away before he’s tearing the box open.

There’s two things nestled together. First, a strappy neon running harness or xinglet. It’s bright and could be seen from far away, and Buck had gotten one that lights up along the shoulders so he could potentially use it as a signaling device if he needs to. It’ll be safer when he takes night runs too, so he thinks he can get a lot of use from it.

The second, and the reason he didn’t want to open the package under Eddie’s watchful eyes is from a company called SurePaw. The retriever on the front of the box makes Buck’s cheeks heat in embarrassment that doesn’t die down when he opens it to find a thick black buckle collar looped through a square box.

The box is what he’s keeping, but it had been cheaper to get the collar bundle, so now he’s holding a dog collar meant for a large breed in his hands, eyes on the GPS tracker that owners swear by in the reviews. It’s small, around the size of a fitness tracker, but far more waterproof with a longer battery life and it’s rated the most durable even for the most accident prone puppies.

Plus there’s no monthly fee, and the location updates every .3 seconds so Eddie will never have to worry about losing him. And it sends an update to Buck’s phone if it needs charging so there’s some assurance he’ll remember to do that when it’s needed. 

He spends the next twenty minutes in a state of frustration figuring out how to remove the tracker from the collar, then looping it through the xinglet, and testing how it rests on his sternum, and then setting up the app on his phone so he can walk through it with Eddie when he’s back. He likes being able to see his little icon hovering on the map at 4995 South Bedford Street, nestled in the light blue rectangle that denotes the home.

The square rests nicely right in the center of Buck’s chest, feeling like a confirmation that it’s there. Not a distraction, just a reminder that there’s someone looking out for him. 

He wonders if maybe it’s nice for dogs when they get put into their walking gear– the almost hug of the straps saying we’re going outside and you’re taken care of.  

Based on how some of them wriggle he guesses no, but he’s seen videos about giving working dogs harnesses to carry things so they feel less anxious about being useless, so maybe that’s similar.

He shakes his head at himself, the whole point of opening things before Eddie was home was to move away from the dog metaphors everyone is so willing to assign him. 

By the time he’s figured out all the features and knows everything is comfortable enough to wear Eddie’s already close to being back at the house and Buck has to scramble to juggle the trash as he hobbles out to the outside bin, stuffing the materials beneath some other things Eddie’s tossing.

It occurs to him the app name will give him away, but Buck’s savvy enough that he thinks he can rename the app if Eddie just hands over his phone and maybe Eddie won’t ever think to look it up.

He takes off the whole thing and folds it, putting it on the table his foot is resting on, trying to look like he feels normal about this, like he’s not buzzing with excitement to give Eddie this comfort.

“I decided to get popcorn!” Eddie calls out as he opens the door, and Buck’s suddenly more nervous, worried maybe Eddie won’t like the reminder that Buck almost got lost. That maybe Buck should wait a bit until it’s less of an exposed nerve for his friend.

He doesn’t have the time or dexterity to fix it though, because Eddie’s through the doorway into the living room, bag of popcorn and groceries in hand, and grin on his face, “it’s time to get 2 Fast 2 Furious!”

Buck can’t help but smile when Eddie looks happy, “hell yeah!”

Eddie looks at the table, stopping on the pile of neon that Buck could never have hoped to hide. It’s visibility is, in fact, the point. “Is that what you got today?”

Buck looks at the bundle, nodding, “yeah– it, uh, I need your phone too.”

Eddie passes over his phone unquestioningly and Buck thinks about the man who unplugged his gaming system for fear of technology but willingly just put his phone into Buck’s hand. Eddie’s eyes are still caught on the neon, like he’s trying to work out what it is, and Buck puts up a finger, “put stuff away. Get a bowl for the popcorn and some sodas, I’ll do this and then explain.”

Eddie looks at his face, then at the xinglet on the table, “okay.” 

Buck swallows down the little bit of worry, reminding himself of how much he scared Eddie, how much Eddie and Chris deserve this, and downloads the tracking app onto Eddie’s phone. It’s fast, so then he makes a shortcut and names it Buck so Eddie won’t have to click something with paw in the title anytime he wants to check in on Buck’s location while hiking. There’s nothing to be done about the definite dog-ness of the app main screen, but once Buck registers his tracker number it opens to just a map, so that’s good enough for him.

It’s nice, seeing his name on a little icon on Eddie’s phone like he belongs there. He nestles it down next to Find My, and once again feels more certain that he’s doing the right thing.

Chapter Text

Eddie doesn’t think about much other than Buck as he puts the few things he grabbed at the store away. He tucks the bag of Buck’s favorite coffee grounds in next to the machine knowing Buck most likely won’t see them since he’s stuck limping around and making coffee has been Eddie’s job. 

He pours the whole bag of popcorn into the bowl, snagging the few that tumble over the sides and popping them into his mouth, and grabs two root beers from the fridge. It feels a bit against the theme of the marathon, they should be knocking back Coronas, but Buck is still on a low dose of pain killers and Eddie doesn’t like drinking alone.

He heads into the living room, feeling buzzy and ready for Buck to finally show him what’s going on, “snacks, drinks, now spill.”

Buck looks up from Eddie’s phone, worrying his lip beneath his teeth and Eddie has a flash of the idea of reaching out and pressing his thumb to the skin so Buck will stop before he makes them peel. He sits on the couch heavily so he won’t think more about it.

Buck twists as much as he can, passing the pile of neon ribbons to Eddie, and now that he’s holding them he can kind of see it’s some sort of harness, the X of the center weighed down by a square of plastic that doesn’t match. It kind of looks like what they use to belay with.

“So.” Buck starts, eyes fixated on the thing in Eddie’s hands, “I– I don’t want you to–” he looks up at Eddie for a second and then back at the thing, “I don’t want you to have to worry about me so- so I did this, and, um, you can– it’s not the kind of thing you have to–” Buck’s voice is a little shaky and Eddie wants to soothe him but he can tell Buck needs to get whatever is on his mind out, so he stays silent. “It’s- it’s a security measure.”

Eddie frowns, trying to understand what Buck’s failing to clarify, holding up the tangle of neon, looking at the plastic box and then at Buck’s face. Buck reaches out, grabbing at two pieces and reorienting it so it looks like a vest, which Eddie feels a little bit victorious for guessing from just neon straps. He slips it on over his head and settles it in place, “it has lights.” 

He taps a button by the square piece Eddie’d noticed earlier and his shoulders illuminate, neon still stark against his T-shirt. Buck looks excited by this addition so he clears his throat and replies “cool?”

Buck nods, then taps on an icon and hands over Eddie’s phone. The screen is illuminated by a map, and when Buck presses a button on the square at his chest a little red dot appears at the center of it right on top of the location of Eddie’s house, street label clear. A notification pops up with Buck has gone online – the icon something Eddie doesn’t recognize, maybe an animal of some sort.

“It’s a way more reliable tracker than a phone. The battery really lasts, and- and it’s waterproof and impact resistant!” Buck gestures at his chest where the little square has a light at the side, “it even pings your phone if you have less than ten hours of charge! And it updates location like three times a second by satellite so you won’t have to worry as much about cell service.”

Eddie stares down at his screen, then up at Buck, “you–”

“There’s a shortcut labelled Buck on your home screen that’ll take you straight to the map, and anytime I turn it on to go out you’ll get a notification. Which, uh, you could turn off?” Buck looks less worried, more excited now. “My thought is I can keep it in the Jeep with the charger so you’ll always know where I am when I’m out.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips at the thought of Buck putting on a neon vest whenever he’s outside, criss-crossing orange and lit up shoulders, “you planning on wearing this out at bars?”

“No, I have another plan for that.” Buck scoffs and waves Eddie off like that isn’t a completely wild response. “This is for anytime I’m on trails. You can have certainty, you know? They only allow so many log ins per device because it’s a basic model, but I know you’ll tell Maddie if you’re worried, and- uh, I think, you should have it. She’s got a lot on her plate, you know?”

Eddie looks down at the dot on his screen, a thrill of something in his gut at the thought of knowing exactly where Buck is anytime he’s out of Eddie’s sight, no more relying on phones that Buck can’t be trusted to keep on hand. No more hoping he’ll see Buck’s Jeep parked where it’s supposed to be. There’s something else that makes his heart race at the thought that he’s the only one with the information. That Buck wants him to have this information. “Buck–”

“Eddie, please. I want– I hate that I scared you. I just want you to know, okay? I want you to know where I am and that I’m okay and then you don’t have to worry about me so much.” Buck’s eyes are wide and pleading and so blue.

Eddie thinks about the way he feels whenever Buck’s hurt, about the relief that floods through him when he sees Buck come out through the door after a ceiling caves in. The mixture of joy and exasperation and relief that comes when Buck replied on his radio after a call out. The rightness of seeing Buck on his couch, of the reality of him in Eddie’s kitchen.

He swallows, “I don’t mind worrying.”

Buck’s brows come together in confusion, “huh?”

“I mean, I hate when you’re off barreling after some dog during a structural fire, and I don’t want you up on a mountain alone, but it’s not because I don’t like worrying about you.” Eddie looks down at the small light blinking in the center of Buck’s chest like something out of an eighties scifi movie, “I worry about Chris every second he’s out of my sight, but it’s not a burden.”

“Yeah, but that’s Chris–”

Eddie nods, “and you’re Buck. I meant what I said last night. You’re my family, and I worry about you when I don’t have eyes on you but that’s not a bad thing. It’s–” he searches for the words, “it’s part of this whole thing.”

“This whole thing?” Buck asks, voice full of something Eddie can’t quite place and Eddie really wishes he would let it go and not ask questions because Eddie doesn’t know how to label what they are. 

Best friends, partners, sometimes roommates, family. Not brothers, but something deep and consuming that Eddie can’t untangle in front of Buck. “Us.” Eddie settles on, and Buck’s eyes flick away, making Eddie’s throat feel tight. He reaches out and taps the box in the middle of Buck’s chest, plastic sound under his nail. “It’s a good idea.”

Buck brightens, looking back at Eddie, uncertainty still lingering but melting away, “yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods, looking down to his phone, “I like it.”

“Picasso.” Buck says quietly and Eddie’s pretty sure that’s some internet thing because Chris said it a couple times, but he’s not going to ask for the explanation because Buck will just call him old even though Chris isn’t around to back him up on it.

Shannon had done that, a couple of times when he was half way across the world, found some small little inside joke for just her and Christopher, teasing Eddie lightly for it. Never something malicious, just a kids’ TV show reference or something, and Eddie had loved seeing them grin at each other through the grainy screen of his tablet, the confirmation that Christopher was being loved and seen and cared for in ways Eddie had never felt.

Eddie likes it when Buck does it too– the same warmth spreading through his chest when he sees Buck make a face at Chris over Eddie’s shoulder.

The looks his parents had shared were always ones of disappointment. Eddie’s mom glaring at him to stay silent when he started to try and ask for something from his dad, or his father’s glare if Eddie talked back at all to his mom.

Eddie looks back at the dot on his screen, liking how it stays steady and still at his address. A visual confirmation that Buck’s where Eddie wants him to be. Evidence that Buck trusts Eddie with the knowledge above anyone else.

The silence is broken by Buck cracking open his can of root beer, and it makes Eddie look up from his screen and clear his throat of feelings he doesn’t quite have words for yet. He clears his throat and leans forward, grabbing the bowl and putting it on the couch between them, “at this rate there’s no way we’re making it through all ten.”

“There are TEN?” Buck squawks and Eddie laughs as he hits play.

__

They’re halfway through the film before Buck realizes the tracker is still on. He drops some popcorn and looks down, sees the power light, and marvels at how comfortable it’s been, but he doesn’t want to waste the battery for no reason so he wipes his hands on his pants and goes to switch it off.

Eddie must notice because he looks around for what Buck guesses is his phone, searching between the cushions when he can’t find it. His eyebrows go up and Buck wonders if maybe Eddie found some change, but then Eddie’s pulling something black out of the gap between the cushions and Buck’s brain can’t quite make out what it is until it does.

It’s the fucking collar.

Buck doesn’t know what to do, he’s frozen in place as Eddie frowns at the dog collar in his hand.

“What–” Eddie looks up at Buck, clearly noticing his expression, “is this yours?”

Buck can feel the tips of his ears get hot with his blush, “I mean, it was– it came with the–”

“Buck.” Eddie clicks and unclicks the buckle, “did– did you buy a dog tracker?” 

Buck’s mouth starts before he can even think, “yeah, but– uh, I– it’s just, they don’t make–”

Eddie blinks at him, then his eyes widen more, “did you install an app for pet owners on my phone?”

Buck’s mind goes blank for a second, a drone in his ear at the thought of Eddie– “I mean- uh, yeah? But that’s– it’s not just for owners because technically dog walkers could be in there too? I- I didn’t– it’s, there’s all these domestic violence survivors who make the case against human tracking and this can handle being submerged in up to ten feet of water without losing signal!”

Eddie’s staring at him and Buck can feel the flush on his cheeks because he’d been trying to avoid this conversation. “I didn’t– people trackers are rare, I couldn’t even find one last time. There’s airtags or whatever but they seem really easy to lose, and they weren’t as durable.”

“Wait, you bought something like this before?” Eddie looks shocked, which- Bucks ninety percent sure he’d told Eddie about the gift for Taylor.

“I got Taylor panic button jewelry.” He clarifies, because this is different, “it was– I have one coming, just so, you know, but, uh– you can’t engage it if you’re knocked out and it doesn’t tell you where I am unless i-it’s pressed, and with my luck I’d be unable to reach it or something.”

Eddie looks at him like he’s started speaking French, which makes Buck trail off because maybe he should have gotten the key fob tracker instead. He wouldn’t have to be making his case for the stupid dog tracker that way.

“You got Taylor one?”

Buck’s not sure why that’s the fact Eddie got stuck on, but he supposes there was no love lost between the two of them, “yeah, I– I don’t know if she still has it, I sent her the information so she could change the contact. I don’t– if she pressed it I wouldn’t get a notification or something.”

“I’d hope not.” Eddie tries to cover up his look of distaste but not very well, and it makes Buck feel the familiar hum of satisfaction he gets when he learns Eddie’s on his side in every break up. That even with Tommy Eddie had chosen him .

Eddie looks back down at the collar still in his hands, and Buck feels a squirming instinct to ask for it back, to hide it away, or maybe to just beg for Eddie to keep this secret, to not tell the team, to let Buck give him this without the teasing Buck knows he deserves. “I didn’t– I was gonna donate it to a shelter. They always need supplies.”

He wasn’t, hadn’t really thought about the collar once he had the tracker on him, mind full of how Eddie would respond to it. Of how helpful Buck was being, how many problems he was solving.

Eddie moves and loops the collar twice around Buck’s wrist, clicking it closed, and Buck can’t do anything but stare at it. He can barely remember to breathe. It’s like Eddie hit the restart button on his brain while clicking the plastic connector.

On screen a car jumps onto a boat.

Eddie is still looking at the loop around Buck’s arm like he doesn’t know why he did that. 

Buck finally remembers English, “thanks. This way I’ll remember I have it.” He tries to remember how smiles look, giving Eddie one, “otherwise it’ll be lost in the chaos of Hurricane Buck.”

Eddie takes the offered explanation willingly, “right. Exactly.”

They both turn to the screen, but Buck has no idea why Paul Walker is doing anything in this film, mind anchored on the double loop of a collar on his wrist, the quiet that had gone through his mind at the click of the buckle.

His mind barrels forward, wondering what the collar would feel like around his neck. He knows he likes a little pressure there sometimes, the trust implied by a press of a thumb, a tightening of a grip.

Eddie’s hands are big. Buck’s known that for years. But they’re also careful. He would run two fingers between Buck’s throat and the scratchy nylon to check the fit.

Buck needs to stop this train of thought. He’d do anything to be distracted. He– he remembers the bruises littering his body and presses as hard as he can into one so he will stop thinking about Eddie’s hands.

It works, making his mind narrow in on the sensation, and he’s able to redirect his brain enough to pull out his phone and look up the movie so he can understand what’s even happening so he can be a good member of the movie marathon that’s apparently ten films long.

Eddie is abnormally still next to him, but Buck doesn’t have space to worry about that while he’s doing his best to not think about Eddie even while Eddie is next to him . It’s like an impossible logic puzzle: telling himself to not think about something is, kind of, thinking about it, so he has to think as hard as he can about something else.

Because there’s a big DO NOT ENTER label on those kind of thoughts of Eddie and Buck isn’t going to break his streak of not being that guy because of a stupid collar looped around his wrist.

__

Even though Fast 5 is Eddie’s favorite of the series he’s having trouble thinking while there’s still a collar on Buck’s wrist. A collar he put there. Buck hadn’t taken it off while they ate dinner, hadn’t moved it to his duffle bag, had just let it sit– stark black against Buck’s pale skin. Eddie thinks it’s a kind of mirror of Buck’s tattoo, almost stylish in the way those leather bracelets were cool for a while.

Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. About the fact that Buck had put an app meant for owners into his phone. About how much he wants Buck to stay. Thinks that maybe if what it would take would be a collar and a leash Eddie would do that. It would keep Buck from running off.

Eddie doesn’t know what that means about himself. The need to squeeze tight, to keep and hold. It’s gotten worse since Texas and Bobby. He knows that. The need to know where his people are. The need to keep them safe, to be at their back when they’re facing the world.

It’s more, with Buck. The ache in his chest consumes him sometimes at night, makes him pick up his phone and think about calling him to make sure he’s alive.

He looks over at Buck who is wide eyed as he watches two cars drag a massive safe through the streets of Rio.

It would just be so much easier if Buck stayed. If he was always there. If every morning Eddie could make them both a cup of coffee before a shift. If at night when Eddie can’t sleep he could look over and see the slope of Buck’s cheekbone in bed beside him. If anytime Buck gets a nightmare Eddie could be there with his hand on Buck’s chest to calm him down.

He looks back at the screen, at Dom and Brian taking down a corrupted mayor. He wonders if Buck still thinks they’d be good as a couple. The last two movies have convinced Eddie of the proposal– the closeness and partnership so much more than friendship, but also not brotherhood like the characters say. Everyone on the crew is family, it’s part of the franchise, but the trust and unspoken communication is different between them.

It reminds Eddie of him and Buck on shift– reading each other’s minds, already handing over a tool before asked, braced to catch Buck’s weight on a line before any sign of a fall.

People have commented on it before, which after Eddie’s been thinking about these movies makes more sense, but Eddie’s never minded. Buck is like sunlight, anyone is lucky to be with him.

He looks over at Buck again, at the way his mouth is a little open in surprise, at the bulk of him tucked into Eddie’s couch, at the collar on Buck’s wrist.

His hands itch with the urge to unclick it, to loop it around Buck’s strong neck instead, to press fingers in and make sure it fits him, to promise him he’ll always have a home with Eddie.

He closes his eyes for a second against the thought, the revving of engines helping him to stop day dreaming. Buck’d barely agreed to stay an extra day, Eddie can’t pressure him more. He needs to give Buck time to trust him again, to come to him instead of closing off.

He turns back to the screen and watches the showdown on the bridge, manages to get out a whoop of victory along with Buck at the death of the second in command and the Rock’s choice to do what’s right instead of hunting the leads. 

Buck’s face splits with a wide grin as the credits play, “okay, I can admit it: you were right.”

Eddie can’t remember what conversation Buck’s referencing, “of course I was. About what?”

Buck laughs, and it makes Eddie smile, “about these movies being fucking great.”

“Best current action series, no contest.” Eddie confirms, trying to remember when he even said that to Buck. He has a flash of a memory of saying something over FaceTime, showing Buck a screen while he was trying to fix a drawer– volume down, but The Rock filling the screen as he fights Vin Diesel.

Buck leans back, throwing his arm across the back of the couch, “I am a believer now. You’ve converted me.”

“Another member of the fast and furious congregation– welcome. We worship on Fridays.” Eddie does a little head nod that’s meant to stand in for a bow. He’s pretty sure Buck gets it.

“Friday for Fast and Furious.” Buck nods solemnly, “as it should be.”

They clink their bottles of Jarritos that they’d changed to with dinner and Eddie has a flash of memory to a time before pregnancy and marriage to when things were unserious and small– a glass bottle of Coke shared back and forth on a dock, silly jokes and easy smiles. Kisses that tasted of cola and cinnamon gum. Big Red wrappers balled up and tucked into Eddie’s pockets because Shannon’s low rise jeans didn’t have real pockets.

Buck would probably taste like Tamarind, since that’s what he’s drinking. Eddie’s own tongue is coated in grapefruit juice.

“Another!” Buck proclaims like he’s Thor and Eddie has to find the remote so he can navigate to the next film, happy for the distraction.

__

Buck is struggling to not drift off during Fast and Furious 6. Not because it’s bad, it’s as good as any of them have been, but he’s full of Indian food and popcorn and soda and Eddie’s couch is his favorite place to nap in the whole world and they’ve watched around nine hours of car crashes and crimes and the plots aren’t distinct enough to make Buck have to pay full attention now that he knows all the characters.

He keeps yawning and Eddie’s been giving him the same looks that he gives Chris sometimes when he knows he’s going to have to carry him to bed, and Buck can’t find it in himself to protest seeing as how he is falling asleep.

After Buck yawns so big that his jaw clicks Eddie hits his thighs and speaks, “hey, we can finish this one tomorrow.”

Buck shakes his head, “no, I’m awake, I swear.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Buck.” Eddie smiles at him, “and I’m tired too.”

Buck stretches, wiggling his toes on his bad leg, “but we haven’t made it to Lil Barker.”

Eddie laughs, “it’s Bow Wow, and he’s in the next movie.”

“I still say that going one two four five six three seven is the worst continuity choice I’ve ever heard of.” Buck stifles another yawn, finally sitting up because he can admit that Eddie’s right, he’s about to fall asleep.

Eddie helps him up, handing over the crutches, “it is.”

It’s only once Buck’s picking up the clothes he needs to change into that he realizes he’s going to have to take off the collar still looped around his wrist. He looks at it, wishing he could think of a reason that could be interpreted as normal for keeping it on.

It’s not even comfortable, but it’s still nice, the comfort of it.

Eddie comes in to the bedroom, face wet from splashing water on it and a hint of mint in the air from his toothpaste that still lingers. He must register how Buck’s looking at it, because he stops and looks at it too.

“It’s kind of cool.” Buck says so he won’t have to explain himself, “like those spike bracelets I used to see at Hot Topic.”

Eddie nods, which is more than Buck deserves for liking the look of a dog collar on his wrist, “do you need a hand unbuckling it?”

Buck doesn’t, it’s easy, but he would have to use his off hand, “sure.”

Eddie gets close, hands less sure than Buck’s come to expect, but he holds Buck’s wrist carefully as he unbuckles the collar and unloops it, rolling it carefully into a circle. His hands are warm and Buck has to keep himself from leaning into the touch, to keep it normal.

Eddie lets go and moves to his bedside table and puts the collar on it, “I’ll keep it safe.”

Buck nods dumbly because he knows he can’t be trusted with it so it makes sense for Eddie to be in charge of it. There’s a little voice in the back of his mind that says maybe Eddie will be willing to put it back on tomorrow. That maybe Eddie doesn’t think it’s that weird of Buck to like it, just another layer to Buck’s eccentricities.

“Thanks.” He says, too delayed, to rough, but Eddie doesn’t call him on it. He picks up the clothes, tucking them against his body as he uses one crutch to get himself into the bathroom.

He meets his own reflection and leans against the cool of the tile behind him, squeezing his eyes shut. This is why he couldn’t stay, why he found an apartment as soon as he could, because he can’t be in Eddie’s presence for so many hours on end without thinking.

He just has to make it through one more day and another night and then he can retreat back into his apartment and start rebuilding some of those defenses.

By the time he’s settled back down and made his way back into the bedroom Eddie is tucked in and on his phone. He looks up at Buck, eyes soft and hair floppy on his forehead, “Chris sent us both a shot of his score.” He holds up his phone like Buck can tell what it says from across the room, “at midnight which I am being very mature about not commenting on.”

“It’s summer.” Buck can’t keep himself from reminding Eddie, who makes a face.

“Yeah yeah yeah. But soon it’ll be school and you better be on board to help me get him on some sort of reasonable schedule because he’s a bear in the morning now that he’s a real teen.”

Buck’s tired and Eddie’s so earnest , so he lets himself indulge in the daydream as he climbs into the bed, “sure. I’ll look up some of those natural light alarm clocks. Maybe one of those devices that make phones useless during set hours.”

Eddie hums happily as he turns off the light, “we had it easier. I didn’t get a cell phone until I was a senior.”

“And you walked up hill to school both ways through the snow, I know.” Buck teases, feeling the gravitational pull of being under the blankets after a day of staring at a screen. “You were basically a pioneer.”

He gets a kick to the shins in response, “fuck off .”

Buck can’t keep himself from snorting in laughter at Eddie’s tone. He falls asleep still smiling.

Chapter Text

Eddie wakes up warm . 

He blinks awake slowly, not wanting to come up from the comfort and finds that he’s shifted in his sleep and gotten close to Buck who welcomed him with open arms, pulled him close and taking Eddie’s weight on his chest and shoulder easily.

Buck’s sleep shirt is soft, loose in the collar so Eddie’s head is close to the bare skin of his shoulder, and the steady rise and fall of Buck’s chest is comforting underneath Eddie’s ear. One of Buck’s hands is resting on Eddie’s back, right where his lowest ribs meet his spine– not quite lower back, but not between the shoulder blades either. It’s the kind of place Eddie’s put his hands on dates, a gentle confirmation of togetherness, sometimes an indication where to go.

He can’t make himself pull away quickly, not when Buck’s clearly sleeping peacefully. Not when Eddie knows he’s having nightmares still, probably not sleeping regularly. It makes Buck’s haggard look some mornings at the station make more sense. 

He also can’t stay in Buck’s arms. Can’t have his temple on Buck’s bare skin because he knows from lockdown and enough naps at the station sometimes Buck reaches out unthinkingly in his sleep and wakes up embarrassed about his unconscious neediness. One morning after Chim and Hen had left the loft for their mental health friendship walk Eddie’d tried to assure Buck it never bothered him, but Buck had clammed up about it so he’d let it drop.

Eddie doesn’t need Buck clamming up again, so he has to figure out a way to move without waking Buck up.

He starts by testing Buck’s hold on his back, shifting slightly to see if Buck will pull him closer or if his hand will slide off Eddie’s side. He’s in luck, Buck’s loose and relaxed, and with just a little twisting Eddie is released, his back cool without Buck’s warmth.

Eddie’s about to slowly take his own weight onto his elbows so Buck won’t feel the movement when Buck’s phone starts buzzing, which Eddie knows from experience will wake him up. If Eddie moves Buck will be awake enough to think Eddie got woken up and pushed Buck away.

But Eddie doesn’t want to push Buck away, he’d just wanted to get up so he could make coffee and let Buck sleep in a little more. He can feel Buck starting to shift under his ear, so he has about a second to make a choice that will make Buck realize Eddie doesn’t see him as clingy or a burden, that he wants Buck to be there all the time.

He grabs. Moves one hand to hold onto Buck’s side, shifts back from his earlier movement to press his weight more fully across Buck’s chest. If Buck’s going to think that someone reached out in the night then Eddie’s going to make it obvious he was the one to move into Buck’s space. That he’s holding Buck, not being dragged into the embrace.

As close as he is he can feel Buck wake up fully, hears the breathing change, the thrum of Buck’s heartbeat quickens. He tries to stay still and relaxed in his own inhales and exhales so Buck will think he’s still asleep.

Even if Eddie didn’t know Buck well he’d be able to tell when Buck realizes what’s happening because he stills, holds his breath, and Eddie can feel the hand that used to be on his back move a little, arm trapped under Eddie’s body. 

Eddie thinks of what used to make him refuse to move when Chris fell asleep on him. Used to make him settle and lie there, taking Chris’s weight against his side, know that even asleep Chris felt safe with him there. That Chris wanted him close.

Under him Buck shifts and Eddie squeezes just a little, like he’s reacting unconsciously, feeding it his real wish for Buck to settle, to stay . Chris used to make little noises that made Eddie melt, snuffles into his shirt, grumbles when Eddie tried to pull away. Eddie pauses, wondering if he should, but mentally decides against it because Chris was cute, but Eddie’s a grown man and he doesn’t know how to snuffle intentionally. Or cutely. 

He hears Buck swallow, mentally readies himself to fake a wake up and apologize if Buck gets any more uncomfortable. Counts slowly in his head to ten, waiting, and then Buck inhales deeply and sighs, body settling under Eddie– muscles relaxing beneath Eddie’s arm and cheek.

Eddie’s naturally a tactile person. He hands out high fives and fist bumps and claps on the back with ease. He grew up with sisters that he hugs and he will wrap his arms around his son any chance he gets. He wishes Buck’s hand would return to his back. With Chris older now and Pepa busy the last couple of weeks and the team still reeling from Bobby he doesn’t get much physical affection unless he makes the effort. Even with Buck, the person he usually goes to, it’s been harder. Buck’s always had a kind of gravitational pull to him, arms flinging wide open in the offer of a hug, shoulder hitting Eddie’s as they walk, knee knocking into Eddie’s in the engine. This is more than they’ve done before, but it feels as easy as any other contact they’ve ever made.

He focuses on keeping his breathing deep and even, his body loose and relaxed, his attention on Buck’s heartbeat and rising and falling chest and warmth and the familiar way he smells– something in one of his curl products a little spiced. 

Eddie loves how settled Buck can make him. How much he knows he can rely on the man.

A voice in Eddie’s head that sounds like his father screams he shouldn’t let himself indulge like this. That it’s too good and soft for him. That he shouldn’t want comforting, shouldn’t need the contact. Should be able to hold himself together without anyone else– that if he’s going to be a partner then he should be the one offering strength, not wanting it.

Eddie’s been working on silencing those kind of thoughts ever since Texas. Sometimes he imagines Bobby talking over the frustrated nagging of his parents– has Bobby cut in the way he’d used to over someone making a fuss at a scene. No patience for people preventing life saving measures from getting to who needs them, voice a loud dismissive bark over his mother’s passive aggression and his father’s silent dismissals.

He doesn’t have the reserves at the moment to try and imagine Bobby’s voice, so he just counts Buck’s heartbeats under his ear.

He allows himself one hundred and eighteen because he’s greedy before yawning and imitating waking up. He doesn’t push Buck away, just blinks his eyes open and slowly lets go of Buck’s side, moving his head to press into Buck’s shoulder with his chin.

“Morning.” His voice is thick with disuse, which helps him sound less like he’s been masquerading as a weighted blanket.

Buck’s gone still beneath him, “uh- hey?”

Eddie hates how unsure he sounds, so he pushes himself up but doesn’t move away from Buck, just looks down at him, “you’re a good pillow.”

A complicated series of emotions flash over Buck’s face, but it settles on fond, which works for Eddie “thanks?”

He looks and sounds more like himself, and Eddie doesn’t see any signs of guilt in his expression under the blush on his cheeks so he levers himself up more into a full push up before rolling off Buck, surprised at how cool the air is in his room when he’s not mostly on Buck, scratching at his chin, “coffee.”

“Coffee.” Buck confirms, sitting up and Eddie catches him wincing as he moves his leg, “I hate sleeping in a brace.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgement, because he knows the pain of immobilization, the creaking of joins kept too still for their own good, “I have some warming cream if you want. Helps when Chris gets achy.”

Buck nods as he undoes the velcro, scratching the skin underneath, then redoes it back up, “I’ll take you up on that during the movie.”

The sound of the velcro makes Eddie glance over at the collar on his bedside table. It’s simple, nothing much to look at, but his fingers itch to loop it around Buck’s wrist again because he’d liked what it meant. The concrete visible confirmation that Buck cared. That he wanted Eddie to feel a sense of certainty Eddie hasn’t felt maybe ever.

He shakes his head and stands, because being weird about Buck’s gift is a before having coffee thought if he has ever had one. He moves into the kitchen, uses the grounds he bought so Buck would stop complaining about the coffee, and stares at the two mugs he pulled down as he waits.

Buck’s mug at Eddie’s is the biggest in the house. It has a little chip in the handle from when Buck had gestured too wide and knocked it onto the floor. It’s frankly kind of ugly: a light caramel brown with a vague pattern dripping down from the rim, but Buck had found it one day at a yard sale when someone else on Eddie’s street was moving out and had exclaimed about the way his whole hand could fit into the handle hole and it had lived in Eddie’s cupboard ever since. Eddie’s sits by it– a blue one with DAD that Chris had found one day at TJ Maxx and made him buy.

There should always be these two mugs on his counter. His coffee maker doesn’t make one cup well, but with two it’s just right. The table is made for more than just him and Chris. It’s better when Buck’s there, passing the potatoes and laughing at a story from work. Eddie’s bed is big and empty, but this morning it had felt like the kind of space Eddie could fall into and spend a whole day lazing around in. 

He hadn’t lied, Buck’s a good pillow, Eddie would happily wake up with him near anytime. 

He listens to the quiet burble of the coffee maker, to the shuffling and tapping of Buck’s crutches as he moves around the bedroom.

Eddie would wake up with Buck in his arms every day if Buck would let him.

The thought should, he supposes, be surprising. A younger Eddie would probably flinch away from it, would shove it down and hope that it was just a passing intrusive thought he can ignore.

But Eddie’s lost too many people in the last year. The last bits of the ghost of Shannon feels banished by his relationship with Kim, Chris’s running away, his parents’ enabling it and so clearly not wanting him around, Eddie leaving everyone just to try and patch over the cracks– phone calls and texts and videos not enough to keep it from feeling like he’d lost his people, and just when he’s finally feeling like he’s on even footing, finally making a space he could manage to exist in– he got the call about Bobby. Eddie can’t remember who called him. It’s weird, he should know, but all he could hear after the words was his own breathing. He knows it wasn’t Buck, but that’s all he can remember. 

So Eddie refuses to push the passing thought away because it’s true. He’d wake up next to Buck every day for the rest of his life if he could. The idea of knowing every morning that Buck’s pulse is thrumming under his skin– the warm solid heat of him pressed to Eddie– a confirmation and promise that Buck is with him . Eddie would do almost anything to be worthy of that.

“Shit.” He whispers, looking over his shoulder to be sure Buck isn’t in the room yet, the blood rushing in his ears is loud enough to cover up the crutches.

Loving Buck is so easy and has been Eddie’s reality for so long that he’d never noticed it shifting. He’s always wanted Buck with him, but for years it had been a simple wishing he’d come over and hang out. Share a six pack and laugh at Buck’s stories, eat some take out and feel normal and young, not like a veteran widowed father. Then it had been looking for Buck when he needed help, asking for his advice with Chris even though everyone else on the team is a parent.

He tries to think back and pinpoint when it had changed, wondering if maybe he should have noticed months ago.

He swallows, looking at his hand on the counter. He hadn’t noticed when loving Buck became being in love with Buck. He doesn’t know how he’d missed it. How he’d skimmed over something so deeply and intensely real as being in love with Buck. 

He swallows again, the beep of the machine making him move and pour coffee into the mugs, filling the kitchen with the smell of coffee grounds. 

He’s in love with Buck.

The heat of the cup in his hand feels distant and muffled, the only thing he can think about is how right it feels to have that thought. How it explains every moment in the past few months. The ache when Buck had chosen to hike without him, the terror he’d felt when he couldn’t get ahold of Buck, the rush of relief when Buck had smiled crookedly at him from the ground on the trail.

Eddie blinks away the memory. How could he not be in love with Buck? With his enthusiasm and giant heart and incredible unimaginable willingness to go all in on things even if they’ll hurt him. Of course Eddie would get to this point. Buck had arrived in his life and Eddie had started building his home around him almost immediately. He’d given Buck his son , how could he have missed what that meant even for himself?

The tapping of Buck’s crutches make him turn to the fridge to pull out creamer, something he’d never let himself indulge in until Buck started putting it in the cart when they shopped for the 118. 

Buck comes in as Eddie’s splashing some into his cup and Dios how did Eddie never notice the way he makes a room feel brighter? The way he fills the space and makes Eddie want to move towards him– gravitational as the sun. Eddie’s chest tightens, knows his cheeks are pinking up.

He feels the smile grow on his lips automatically at the sight of Buck all rumpled and sniffing the air, looking at Eddie with playful suspicion on his brow, “that– is that?”

Eddie makes his face blank and innocent as Buck sits down and he hands over a cup, “what?”

Buck practically sticks his whole nose into the mug, closing his eyes to focus, and Eddie can’t stop cataloguing everything about Buck that he’s been taking in for years but not appreciating. The long lashes, the pink of his birthmark, the beginnings of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

Once he’s looking it’s hard to stop. He wants to touch Buck’s soft curls and see how Buck’s jaw fits in the palm of his hand.

“Are these my beans?” Buck opens his eyes and then immediately narrows them at Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head, pursing his lips, grabs his own cup so he can occupy his hands, “pretty sure they’re mine, bud.”

Buck’s eyes narrow further, “this is not the terrible roast.”

Eddie takes a sip more loudly and dramatically than necessary, “tastes the same to me.”

Buck frowns into his cup, taking a sip, “Eddie, you fucking liar , I know these are my beans!”

“I took them from the bag I bought, Buck.” Eddie shakes his head, feeling the warmth he’s always associated with bothering Buck, suddenly recognizing how similar it’s always been to stealing a classmate’s things to get their attention. Can’t help but ask himself how long have I been flirting?

He thinks back to stealing Buck’s phone and making him chase after Eddie. To dodging a tossed piece of popcorn when he left for a date. To you’re on blood thinners .

Buck tilts, trying to look around Eddie at the machine, then meets Eddie’s steady gaze– eyes so blue, the color of the mug in Eddie’s hands. “When?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if maybe he’d missed something while telescoping at light speed through their whole friendship, “when what?”

“ When did you buy the bag?”

Eddie can’t catch the smile as it speeds towards the corner of his mouth, “this bag?”

“The bag of beans that you used for this cup of coffee.” Buck’s eyes narrow again, “when was that bag bought?”

“That bag?” Eddie takes a sip, trying to hide his teeth, knowing his eyes are laughing, reveling in the moment of simple silly domesticity he’s been given even as the back of his mind is flipping through every time he’d ignored the way Buck makes him feel. 

“Yes, you ass, that bag!” Buck is stifling giggles, “because if it’s anytime before yesterday morning and you’ve been holding out on me and forcing me to drink two whole cups of bad coffee then prepare for my revenge, Diaz.”

“Oo, scary.” Eddie takes another sip, wondering if the coffee really is so much better or if it’s sweetened by the moment.

Buck gestures at his leg, “I have weeks to plan. Weeks!”

Eddie finally loses his grip on his laughter, turning and grabbing the bag as he does. He tosses it towards Buck who has to juggle a mostly full cup of coffee and it, which makes him squawk in annoyance. “I grabbed it yesterday along with snacks.”

Buck looks down at the bag, then grins at Eddie, “I knew you’d see reason and join me! No more suffering! A cheers to enjoying things, Eddie.”

Eddie clinks their mugs together and rolls his eyes mostly to cover the blush because Buck looks so happy– boyish and messy and joyful, and all because of a bag of coffee beans. His palms itch with the need to do more. To give more so Buck can look like that every day. He’s only known he’s in love with the man for barely a few minutes but the urge to give Buck anything and everything isn’t new.

How had he missed it?

The immensity of the realization is catching up with Eddie, and Buck’s proximity is a strange almost torture, he needs a moment. “Well, enjoy your victory. I need a shower before we dive back in to the movies.”

Buck’s shoulders do a happy wiggle that Eddie’s brain screams cute about, “cool.” He takes a sip, sighing like it’s water and he’s been in the desert for days, “but be fast, we gotta get to Tokyo before we grab Chris.”

Eddie’s heart races with the we and the natural domesticity in Buck’s words, but he can’t let himself stumble, needs to have a door between him and Buck so he can figure his shit out well enough to not scare Buck away, “sure, y-yeah.”

If Buck notices the uncharacteristic stumble he doesn’t say anything, which is luckier than Eddie has any right to be. He grabs new clothes he can lounge on the couch in and retreats into the security of the bathroom, turning on the water to cover any noise he might make.

He stares at his reflection. Studies it, wondering if he looks any different. He shouldn’t, since apparently he’s just been dutifully ignoring something true for months. Maybe years.

He swallows, feeling his own heartbeat in his ears. 

He doesn’t think the adrenaline coursing through him is because Buck’s a man. He’s always been straight, but Buck is Buck . He’s strong and kind and beautiful. He rescues animals and kids from fires and gladly carries both knights and damsels in distress in his arms. Eddie would bet a good chunk of lesbians would at least give Buck some thought. Probably more than just some thought because Buck’s lips are pink to match his birthmark and his hands are broad and callused from work and his curls stick to his forehead when he takes off his helmet. 

Eddie feels the heat of his blush spreading, tries not to think farther down that line because Buck is his friend and he doesn’t– there’s other more pressing issues. Like how he’s going to keep this realization from Buck.

Because Buck– Buck deserves someone who has their shit together. Someone who is introspective and emotionally healthy enough to notice when they fall in love, not just stumble across it while making coffee. Someone who doesn’t have so many poorly applied pieces of duct tape holding them together. Who doesn’t need a buffer of his son to make up for his harsh words– someone who says their apologies out loud so Buck doesn’t have to second guess himself so much.

Because Buck is so good and while Eddie doesn’t think Abby or Ali or Taylor or Natalia or Tommy were right for Buck that doesn’t mean that Eddie is. Buck should be with someone who does everything Eddie does but even better. Who listens to Buck’s stories and helps him when he’s hurt and builds a family with him but doesn’t lash out or shut Buck out or move hundreds of miles away even though Buck’s eyes are begging him not to.

The idea of Buck being with someone else might hurt, but Eddie meets his own gaze in the mirror and can’t help but catalogue the ways he’s failed Buck over the years. The way he’d failed every one of his past partners. 

He starts stripping, because if he’s going to have a little panic moment– it’s not an attack because he’s not afraid of the feeling or running from it– about how he can never tell Buck, then he’d like to do it while under a spray of hot water.

The pelting heat of the water and the steam in the air help because they take away the need to think about some of his senses. He can just focus on what he has to do. He has to find a way to wall off his impulses to only the things they’ve already been doing. Simple touches in platonic places. Normal gestures of friendship.

He sticks his face into the spray. Wondering just how many of the things he’s been doing for years can be kept up. Movie night hang outs seem safe. Dinners with Chris are good too. Snuggling definitely is not. Which means the past couple of days have been fine but tonight Eddie needs to convince Buck to let him sleep on the couch.

He turns, the water pelting down on the back of his neck.

He should say it once, out loud, before he locks it up. He’s not going to try and force it away– Buck is worthy of every ounce of love that Eddie has and he doesn’t plan on moving on if he can help it, but the feeling is Eddie’s to live with, no one else’s. If it becomes unmanageable he’ll find someone to talk to.

He swallows down the lump of emotion in his throat because he knows the person he would have wanted to talk it through with would have been Bobby. Bobby who was also blindsided by loving Buck, who arrived at the realization on his own and worked to show it in his own way even when he hurt Buck at times. Bobby who’d talked him through so much, who listened and chided and empathized and said the hard thing.

Bobby would agree with him: Buck deserves the world.

He needs to say it. Just so it’s outside his own skull, because maybe it will help him not feel so full of the feeling for the rest of the day, like a release valve. Because loving Buck isn’t bad. It’s probably in the top few things Eddie’s ever done, right next to raising Chris. 

He opens his mouth then closes it, licking over his lips and tasting the water on them. He tries again, inhaling shakily, finally whispers towards the tiles, “I’m in love with him.”

It feels right on his tongue. Makes him smile because it makes so much sense. Buck’s the most lovable person Eddie’s ever met, and Eddie’s lucky to love him. He presses a hand to his wet sternum, trying to quell the little ache that’s settling there. Because being in love with Buck is the most natural and wonderful thing in the world, but now he has to figure out how to live with it without letting himself break the beautiful thing they already have.

He turns off the water, letting the chill hit him. He’ll figure it out. He just needs to adjust. To redraw the lines and be there for Buck without being selfish or taking too much. He has practice. He’s spent years denying himself, what’s one more thing?

Chapter Text

Buck finishes his coffee quickly even though it’s hot and he wishes he could savor it. He’s only got two modes for caffeine: chugging it to try and make it through the day or slowly sipping one cup as he does his morning things, and since he is still being told to use two crutches he can’t exactly meander around with the mug.

From the sound of the water Eddie’s still in the shower so he figures he has time to change and put on some of Eddie’s deodorant because Maddie didn’t think to throw his in along with the changes of clothes.

Once he’s in the room his eyes catch on the collar still resting, coiled, on Eddie’s bedside table. In the light of day it makes his cheeks heat– wondering why he’d left it on so long, why Eddie hadn’t called him out for being weird. He stands by the brand choice, they really do not make human trackers for all the reasons he’d explained, but he should have put the collar in his bag when he opened the package. 

Eddie would notice if he took it– Eddie’s observant like that– so Buck throws the duffle Maddie brought him onto the bed and pulls out a fresh shirt, boxers, and different sweatpants, glad he has a drawer of comfort clothing that Maddie could easily pull from. The reality of the job means he spends more time than he would like recovering from injuries, so having a whole part of his wardrobe dedicated to things he can put on while partially incapacitated was something he started after getting his leg crushed.

He’s managed to swap both his underwear and pants before he hears the water shut off. He silently cheers for how he’s managed to keep his hamstrings flexible enough to put things on without undoing his brace or bending his knee, and when Eddie comes in he can rub it in that the Yoga classes he goes to every once in a while were not a massive waste of money, even if he had to pay a monthly fee that makes him wince when he sees the withdrawal on his bank statements.

When he told Ravi his solution is to look as infrequently as possible at anything from the bank or credit card companies the guy had looked like Buck had run over his puppy, so Buck doesn’t talk to Ravi about money anymore. 

He pulls off his shirt, sniffing it, and confirms it smells clean and can be worn to sleep in again. Which is good, because even though Eddie hadn’t said anything he’d have felt gross if he’d realized he was smelly while Eddie was using him as a pillow.

He can’t keep himself from thinking about the couple of minutes where Eddie’d been soft with sleep on top of him, arm strong around Buck’s torso. Buck had tried to stay as still as possible so Eddie wouldn’t move because if anyone deserves to sleep as long as he needs it’s Eddie. The hair at the top of Eddie’s head had been mussed, and he’d wanted to smooth it, but he’d kept his hands safely against the mattress. 

Because Buck knows Eddie doesn’t feel any different about them since Buck came out, but thinking too hard about who Eddie is, and what he could be, and how Buck might feel is too close to toppling the first domino of the giant pattern in Buck’s mind that he has been avoiding looking at for months.

Probably years.

He can’t stop and think too much or he’ll disturb something and begin the cascade that will end with Buck’s life a mess of tiles around him.

His phone buzzes, and he looks at the delivery notification– the package should arrive by noon. He clicks through to figure out which of the items are coming, and is pleasantly surprised to learn the other item will be in by dinner.

He really thinks that Prime pays for itself in convenience and no delivery fees, no matter how much Chim argues that going to stores would be more efficient. 

He opens his chat to Maddie and sends a reply to her check in from the day before all good! heading to mine tomorrow

Her response is fast, glad Eddie’s keeping an eye on you!

Buck likes the message and  looks up as Eddie walks into the room. Eddie who apparently forgot to bring clothing into the bathroom with him. And who from his expression of surprise didn’t expect Buck to be in the bedroom. Buck can’t fully read whatever flashes across Eddie’s mouth, something beyond surprise, but it’s gone before Buck can do anything except look at Eddie.

Eddie’s damp, his hair is flopped down onto his forehead, and still shiny with water at the temples, skin pink from the heat of the water. He’s got dirty clothing in one hand, the other is holding a towel up at his hip. Buck is strong, but he’s also just a man, so he can’t keep himself from tracking across Eddie’s bare chest and defined waist, recognizing the feeling he used to call jealousy as attraction.

It hits him that he’s shirtless on Eddie’s bed, and his instinct is to reach for the shirt quickly, which results in him knocking his phone to the floor, “fuck.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, and Buck’s glad for the excuse to look away as he folds, reaching towards the floor for the phone, “shut up” muffled as he does, stretching and twisting awkwardly, and hisses as the motion hurts some muscle he bruised while falling down an incline.

Eddie is close, and Buck really doesn’t need naked Eddie right next to him, but he can’t think of a way to say that that doesn’t sound like an admission of something. 

“Here.” Eddie hands the phone to Buck, and he swears he can feel the humidity in the air from the water evaporating off Eddie’s skin. Buck swallows, trying to focus on holding the phone and not dropping it again because he is a competent firefighter for fucks sake. People hand him babies. New ones, like fresh out the womb. He can keep himself from dropping a phone just because Eddie is naked.

Eddie’s cheeks are pink and he’s still pretty close, and Buck needs to put on a shirt because he knows he blushes down to his chest but Eddie doesn’t need to know that. That’s the kind of thing romantic partners know, not partner partners know. And Eddie is his partner partner, not–

“Buck?” Eddie’s eyebrows are creased in the middle, “you okay?”

Buck nods too vigorously, “yeah, just–” he grasps desperately for a reason he just froze, “coffee hasn’t kicked in.”

Which, Eddie’s seen Buck thirty-six hours into a shift still mostly functional, so it’s a bad excuse, but Eddie seems to be willing to accept it, if the fact that he moves to the dresser is any clue. 

“Well, it better work it’s magic soon because the marathon’s only half done.” Eddie says as he bends and Buck forces himself to not look at Eddie’s back and ass and pulls on the shirt that’s been at his side for the whole time, glad for the barrier between them so Eddie won’t get the crumbly face he gets some times when Buck is covered in bruises. 

“The lore isn’t that deep, Eddie.” He snorts, trying to remain normal.

“Just wait.” Eddie promises ominously, which helps make Buck feel like he’s maybe not messed up too bad.

When he risks a look Eddie has briefs and jeans in a stack on the top of the dresser and is looking for a shirt and that means it is time for Buck to leave because they may share a locker room but the glass walls mean they don’t actually undress much and Eddie hasn’t been injured enough to need Buck in a few years, which means he hasn’t been faced with the current predicament since he’s known.

The crutches are right by him, and he focuses on getting steady, tucking his phone into his pocket, “I’ll go find where we stopped last night.”

Eddie makes a noise of agreement and then Buck is out of the room and he feels like he can breathe normally again, like his hands are his own instead of things with minds that only want to reach out. 

He squeezes as tightly as he can on the handles in his palms.

Eddie is straight, Buck is not pining. He has his own life. He does things on his own and has friends and interests and he is not holding a space for Eddie to fill because Eddie will never fill that space, so why would Buck make the space to start with? Eddie is his best friend which is one of the best things that has happened to Buck in his adult life. 

He sits down heavily, wincing at the impact, wondering if he should take some pain killers, but he’s really determined to be on no prescriptions by the time he’s solo in his apartment, and nothing actually hurts that much. He breathes through the spike of discomfort and by the time he gets his foot up on the table in front of him everything’s mostly okay.

Nothing will change, and that’s mostly okay. Eddie is the kind of guy everyone wants to be friends with, and he’s chosen Buck in return, and Buck could not be happier about that.

__

Eddie spends more time than he needs in his bedroom getting dressed, giving himself a pep talk and trying not to think about how good Buck had looked, shirtless and soft on Eddie’s bed.

He hears smatters of reggaeton and revving engines, so he heads into the living room and Buck’s frowning at the TV, clicking. “We ready?”

Buck looks up, smile sending a bolt through Eddie. He is shocked how familiar it feels, but he guesses he’s always liked getting Buck to smile, “turns out I was really sleepy, because I do not remember the last twenty minutes before we pressed pause.”

Eddie looks to the screen, trying to remember where they are exactly, “we can start where you drifted off. I don’t mind.”

“But you saw it.” Buck frowns, “and we have five more movies after this.”

Eddie shrugs as he sits, “that’s okay, I don’t mind twenty extra minutes.” He thinks with you as loudly as he can because it’s not the safest thing to say, but also Buck should know Eddie likes having him around even if Eddie doesn’t say the whole reason why.

"You always take such good care of me." Buck grins and clicks play, leans back, arm flung across the couch, and Eddie allows himself a second to look at the man instead of the screen. Just a second, because Buck will notice, but he tries to take everything about the profile in in a flash. The slope of the nose, the stubble on Buck’s jaw, the curve of his chest and stomach under the shirt. 

He allows himself exactly one he’s beautiful before looking away.

Eddie turns to the screen, looks at Paul Walker’s easy smile and light curls, at his blue eyes, and his brash bravado– he’s always been Eddie’s favorite character. Eddie had even had to push tears off his cheeks in theaters when he saw the last film with him in it after he died. Paul’s hand wraps around the wheel and his arms flex and Eddie notices, and then he laughs in joy and adrenaline and he reminds Eddie so much of Buck. His chest tightens because apparently liking Buck isn’t a surprise, but the realization that he thinks an actor is hot is.

He doesn’t watch the movie as his brain whirs back to functionality.

Apparently he’s not just in love with Buck. He’s also sort of into men who are not Buck. Which– shouldn’t be a surprise. But until half an hour ago Eddie hadn’t even known he was into Buck, which should have been obvious, so figuring out he’s into dudes feels like something he really should have known.

Brian and Dom are arguing on screen about something, and Buck seems invested, so Eddie has time for the mild spinning freefall sensation in his chest. 

Distantly he thinks it’s appropriate that he’s speed running a realization of his own sexuality while watching fast and furious. It’s a high octane movie and apparently his body decided to go all in on realizations today of all days.

Buck laughs, and it makes Eddie focus, laughing a little too late, but Buck thankfully doesn’t notice. 

So, he’s into men. He looks at Vin Diesel, admires the functional strength of him that’s clear even under the vanity muscles that are on screen. He likes them, even if he thinks Dominic Toretto isn’t his type. He thinks the ability to lift Eddie off the ground would be nice.

Buck can– he dead lifted Eddie into the firetruck after he was shot according to the accident report. They’ve had to run drills where Eddie got assigned the ‘victim’ and even with Eddie intentionally being a problem Buck had gotten him over his shoulder and carried him to the designated safe point.

It’s too early in the day for Eddie to feel hot and bothered, and he really can’t deal with explaining himself to Buck, so he mumbles something about needing more coffee. 

“Can you get me a cup?” Buck says without looking away from the screen, and Eddie hums like he’ll think about it exactly like he would before this morning, and tries not to want to press a kiss to the top of Buck’s curls, feeling the resolution he just made to not think of having more with Buck start to go out the window.

Because no matter what he says to himself, he knows Buck is the best thing Eddie has ever chosen for himself.

By the time he’s leaned against the counter and waited for the cups to brew and brought them back to the couch he feels enough like himself to settle in and watch a car explode without thinking about it as a metaphor for how his life is going.

__

The door bell rings twenty minutes into the next movie, startling both of them. Eddie stands to answer it, and Buck pauses the movie because Eddie doesn’t know this one well because apparently it doesn’t have the people he likes in it. Buck thinks that means no Brian or Dom, but Eddie’s keeping his mouth shut so he doesn’t spoil it for Buck.

“Buck, what–” Eddie says right as Buck’s phone buzzes with a delivery notification.

“Ooh! Bring it!” Buck puts his hands out expectantly, and Eddie tosses the envelope over. Thankfully Buck was a tight end, so he can catch, and it’s only a few rips through plastic later that he’s holding up a small boxed phone case, “ha!”

Eddie frowns at it, “new case?”

“New GPS enabled case!” Buck says victoriously as he peels off a security sticker, “way better than find my phone. Good for when I’m out at bars or something.” There’s a frustrating sticker on the inside of the case that he has to work at for a second so he doesn’t immediately notice that Eddie’s gone quiet.

When he looks up Eddie is staring at the table in front of them. Buck tracks backwards through what he said, tries to think of anything that might have made Eddie look like that. “N-not that you should feel worried about me when I’m out! I, uh, I’m not– I don’t. It’s been a while since I went– usually you come.”

He very carefully doesn’t think about the night out with Ravi. About bringing Tommy back to this house. About the clinging desperate loneliness he’d felt, the need for connection, the intensity of the plunge into cold water when Tommy’d called Eddie his competition.

Eddie looks over, “right. Yeah. But if you were I could–”

Buck feels like he’s spent half of the last few days blushing. “It’s not creepy. We can have a system.”

“A system?” Eddie’s brows go up in some mix of confusion and interest, like he does when Buck pulls a new recipe from the oven.

Buck nods enthusiastically, because having clarity will help. “Yeah, if– if you’re worried, or, uh– you know I’m out, then you can text me, and if I don’t reply in ten then you can check this.”

Eddie looks back at the case Buck’s holding up, then at Buck, “Buck, you–” Buck can see Eddie start to protest, to turn down what Buck’s offering, and he won’t let that happen.

“I’m serious, Eddie.” He twists his torso, annoyed at the leg keeping him from turning all the way to Eddie on the couch, “just gimme ten minutes. I’ll always reply. And if I don’t you can see where I am.”

Eddie clears his throat, “Buck, there’s some things that take more–”

“Sure, fresh pasta dough takes like fifteen to knead, and I don’t want egg on my phone, but what’s the likelihood that you’d call right as I’m starting the dough? And why am I making fresh pasta that you don’t know about? But if you checked then I’d be in my apartment, so you would know it’s a pasta thing.”

Eddie blinks at him, eyes scanning his face like Buck’s going insane and he needs to start asking the concussion question protocol, “pasta?”

It occurs to Buck that maybe Eddie wasn’t worried about dough, and he has to once again run through the conversation to figure out why, and it hits him that he kind of told Eddie to check in on him during a date, “oh– that. Yeah, that does take more than ten minutes.” He pauses, feeling like he needs to make himself clear because Eddie cannot think that he is bad in bed. Eddie is his best friend, he has to know Buck isn’t bad at sex, “a lot more. I– uh, I promise.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “okay.”

Buck’s offended, suddenly, because how could Eddie think that he– he sits up, “hey! It’s been a, uh, a couple months, but–”

“You and Tommy broke up more than a couple months ago.” Eddie cuts in, frowning.

Buck freezes, tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth.

Eddie’s eyes widen, looking around the room like there are answers, “did you hook up with someone here?”

Buck doesn’t like lying to Eddie, but omission feels like a grey area, so he shrugs, aiming for casual, “I, uh, just brought someone home from a night out.”

Eddie’s face does something complicated, then goes blank, “oh. Uh, nice.”

“Nice?” Buck almost squeaks, because they don’t really do that. Don’t congratulate each other on things like that. “I mean, sure. It was fine.”

Eddie shifts, then looks at his own hands, a flash of annoyance on his face, “just fine?”

Buck occupies his own hands with putting his phone into the case, avoiding eye contact, “I mean, it was good. He, uh– wanted to make breakfast and everything.”

“He slept over? Here?” There’s something curling through Eddie’s tone, but Buck can’t place it.

The edge of the case is annoying to click in, and makes Buck focus just a little too much on it for his mouth to stick with the plan, “I wasn’t gonna kick him out, Eddie. I’m not an asshole. Plus we hadn’t seen each other since–”

He cuts himself off but the damage is done.

“Since.” Eddie says slowly, “since when? Since the break up?”

Buck runs a tongue over his lips nervously, “uh–”

“Buck.” Eddie sounds– something. Not disappointed, which is a relief, but maybe annoyed, and Buck can’t look up at him, “why him? Why’d you–”

Buck doesn’t have an answer that’s for Eddie’s ears, “just wanted something, and it– happened. Not going to happen again, we didn’t end on a great note. Just– had a moment. Needed to feel less– alone.” 

“Alone.” Eddie repeats. “You found Tommy again because you were alone.”

“Yeah, you know, I– it was after you’d left.” Buck tries to explain, but he can feel the conversation getting away from him, so he swallows, holding up the case, and finally glancing at Eddie, “and with this you, uh, well, you wouldn’t, like, know details, but you could at least make sure I’m not dead in a ditch or something.”

Eddie’s lips are pursed like he’s holding something in– words or emotions Buck can’t tell, “sure.”

“It charges along with my phone but it has seventy two hour battery life. And the location is accurate within like ten feet so you could even tell what room I’m in.” Buck says because he did so much research and Eddie should know about it. “It has an app, which, uh, I’ll add to your phone– and, uh Chris’s too if he wants..”

“Buck, you don’t have to do this.” Eddie sighs, shoulders tight. 

Buck shakes his head, “I do, Eddie. I do. I just– I want you to know where I am. That I’m safe.”

Eddie scoffs, “I would know that if you were here. Knowing what room you’re in somewhere else doesn’t tell me shit.”

Buck flinches, squeezing too hard on the sides of his phone, “I can’t live here, Eddie.”

“I know. You made that clear by moving out the second you could.” Eddie grits out, too harsh for midmorning on a couch. 

Buck wishes he could stand up, pace the room, so he wasn’t so trapped on Eddie’s fucking couch. He tosses the phone to the side instead, crossing his arms, “you needed space.”

Eddie exhales quickly through his nose, “thanks for making that choice for me.”

Buck looks at the frozen characters he barely recognizes on the screen, keeps his gaze focused on them because he can’t say what he is about to while looking at Eddie. “I need my own life. I can’t keep tying myself to yours. Can’t keep making a home here. Gotta put myself out there, you know?”

“Right.” Eddie’s voice is brittle, and Buck knows him well enough that his eyes are probably a little wet. “So instead you tell me to track you while you’re out. You’re handing me the end of your fucking leash so I can see you go run off into danger and hopefully call you back before you get too far.”

“What? That- that’s not–” Buck’s mouth goes dry, thinks about the case and the tracker and the fucking collar on Eddie’s bedside table, “I–”

“I don’t want to sit at home and watch your icon sit in a bar and then go to some apartment with somebody.” Eddie’s voice is tense, and Buck has to look over, because Eddie’s jaw is tight and angular with emotion.

“I’m not–” Buck swallows, “I can’t be alone forever, Eds. Tommy was right, you occupy a spot that I shouldn’t have put you in, and I am trying to make some room so I can move on.”

Eddie’s hands clench, “when has Tommy fucking Kinard ever been right, Buck?”

“When he said that you were why we didn’t work.” Buck exhales into the space between them, “because I don’t have an opening f-for a partner, not when you–” he closes his eyes. “exist.”

He can feel Eddie move, and when he opens his eyes Eddie is close, kind of perched on his knees on the couch, eyes searching over Buck’s face, “then don’t make space. I fit.”

Usually Buck thinks no one gets him like Eddie Diaz, but in this moment Eddie seems to be hellbent on not getting it, “you–I know you’re my partner, man, always will be even if Chim keeps you as a paramedic until he retires, but I can’t be single forever.”

Eddies hand comes up to fit right on his shoulder, thumb on the bare skin to the side of Buck’s collar, “I’m not asking you to be.”

Buck wishes he were strong, that he could shake off Eddie and make a joke, but Eddie’s eyes are wide and warm, and Buck is so tired, “Eddie, please.”

Eddie shifts again, hand on Buck’s shoulder moving up to the side of Buck’s head, pleading in his eyes, “you’re not hearing me, Evan. You didn’t put me somewhere I don’t want to be.” His jaw works, and Buck recognizes the face Eddie makes when he’s about to do something bold, “I don’t want to watch your dot move around on a map. I want to be next to you. I want to hike with you and go out to dinner and sit across from you. I want to know where you’re sleeping because you’re in my bed.”

Buck’s pulse is thrumming in his ears, his mouth parted in shock because he can’t really even parse what Eddie could mean.

Eddie must see his confusion, because his hand shifts more, a thumb along Buck’s jaw, a line of touch that Buck would happily have branded into his flesh, “I want to be your partner, Buck. In any way you want.”

Buck gasps, mind racing over the multitudes of lists of ways he could answer that request, feeling overwhelmed and raw like an oyster Eddie had shucked open, “I don’t–”

Eddie’s eyes widen, “oh.” He starts to shift, like he’s going to move away, and Buck finally moves, grabbing at Eddie’s waist, squeezing as tight as he can without hurting Eddie.

“Don’t. Please.” Buck barely manages, “a-are you? I– can you please talk to me like I’m four because I can’t– I can’t fuck this up, Eddie.”

Eddie moves, throwing his knee over Buck’s thigh, holding himself up enough that all the contact is on the outside of Buck’s legs, face even with Buck’s, voice soft and a little shaky, “I woke up this morning in your arms and I would have stayed there forever if I could have. You’re worried about how you built a life around me but all I want is that.”

Buck lets his hands drift a little, thumbs shifting on Eddie’s skin, “yeah?”

Eddie nods before leaning in so their foreheads are touching, his breath across Buck’s lips, “yeah.”

Buck hates that he can’t see Eddie clearly while they’re so close but would rather get struck by lightning again than put space between them, “straight?”

Eddie’s nose brushes against the side of his, and Buck wants to crow with how in synch they are when Eddie understands the question, the laugh laced through the single syllable “no” sweet and relieving as Eddie moves, pressing his lips to Buck’s.

Buck’s entire mind empties. The brush of Eddie’s lips to his is soft and simple and sweet and devastating. His senses are narrowed down to the contact points between their bodies and the intentional effort it takes to remember to breathe and beat his own heart, which he’s pretty sure are things that are supposed to happen automatically. 

In. Thump. Thump. Thump. Out. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Eddie tastes like the coffee he’s been sipping on for two hours. He smells like the shampoo Buck recommended for Christopher even though it’s wrong for Eddie’s hair type. He’s warm under Buck’s hands and against Buck’s legs. His hands are big and the one that had been on the back of the couch has moved, fingertips on the nape of Buck’s neck, thumb at his Adam’s apple.

Buck feels surrounded. Cherished and seen and wanted and held down by the loom of Eddie above him. It’s enough to make him needy, trying to pull Eddie down towards him, but Eddie resists, breaking the kiss when Buck whines and pulls harder, “Buck, you have a dislocated knee. If you think I’m putting my body weight anywhere near that joint then you’re nuts.”

“What’s it gonna do, redislocate?” Buck argues even as his pulse races from the care evident in Eddie’s tone.

Eddie pulls away more, making a face at him, “yes, exactly.”

Buck opens his mouth to reply but then Eddie looks down at his watch that is on his hand that is on Buck’s throat, and Eddie looks surprised, “shit, it’s already one.”

Buck startles too, letting go of Eddie’s sides, immediately wishing he hadn’t, “right, Chris.”

Eddie nods, “let’s go.”

“Let’s?” Buck asks, a little embarrassed of the uncertainty in his tone.

Eddie nods, “if I leave you here you’ll spiral and chew on the furniture or something.” He presses a kiss to Buck’s temple like it’s easy and natural, and Buck leans into the contact, “so, let’s go.”

“I’m not actually a dog, Eddie.” Buck mumbles as he lets himself be helped up, even though he’s blushing from the comparison and not completely out of embarrassment.

Chapter Text

Eddie keeps Buck in his line of sight up until they get in the car because once he looks away he knows he’ll start second guessing his willingness to ignore everything he’d said to himself and will end up trying to convince Buck that he’s better off without Eddie.

Because Eddie knows what he does to people, and Buck doesn’t deserve that. It’s just– Buck was talking about his options like he was going to throw himself back to the wolves. Like he wasn’t a prize, like he was willing to settle with someone like Tommy even though his choice would be Eddie if Eddie were available. And Eddie had had to let Buck know. To show Buck that Eddie is available, that he doesn’t have to settle for someone who he happens to run into at a bar or on an app or at a scene or from another firehouse. Show him that if Buck were to choose Eddie then Buck would never say something was just fine.

And because Buck had fucked Tommy in Eddie’s house just because he felt alone, and then had thought Eddie would want to watch his location even while out on dates and the idea had brought the taste of bile to the back of Eddie’s tongue. Because Eddie doesn’t think Buck deserves the mess that is him, but he’s pretty sure sitting home and watching Buck go from some bar to some person’s apartment would kill him.

Buck’s tense in the passenger seat, chair all the way back to accommodate his long legs, and Eddie is brought back to the feeling of driving him around as they hunted for Maddie. Which, that shouldn’t be how Buck feels after Eddie kissed him. He’s already fucking this up.

“Did– uh, I’m sorry Eddie.” Buck blurts into the interior of the car, and Eddie’s stomach falls because he’s realizing Buck hadn’t really said anything in reply to Eddie’s confession, and if he’s about to be let down easy he’s got to steel himself because Christopher will notice if he’s acting too much like his world is falling apart around him. 

“About–” Eddie leaves the space for Buck to say what he has to while mostly hearing the blood rushing in his ears. Because Buck wouldn’t– he knows it’s only a twenty or so minute drive to get Chris. He wouldn’t make Eddie suffer with Chris in the back seat without a little more warning. Although, Eddie sort of sprung his stuff on Buck, so maybe Buck’s not thinking about ramifications. 

“You were so good when I– a-and I didn’t–”  Buck’s hands clench on his thigh, “I didn’t say the right thing, you know? I should have– I-” he inhales deeply and turns his body to Eddie’s and Eddie tries to focus on the road because he cannot crash the car when Buck lets him down easy. “Thank you for telling me. I’m really proud of you.”

Eddie frowns, glancing over, because that didn’t sound like a rejection as far as he can tell, “proud?”

Buck’s nod is endearing, and his face is so apologetic that it makes Eddie want to hold his hand and tell him it’ll be okay. “For, uh, figuring yourself out. I- I don’t know, do you have a label? It’s also okay if you don’t– no pressure. If, uh, you need time, or you want to elaborate, or– you can change whenever, you know?”

Eddie blinks at the road in front of him, mind too loud to parse Buck in the moment, “wait. Buck, what are you apologizing for exactly?”

“For being a bad best friend when you came out?” Buck’s reply has more uncertainty than his ramble had, “unless– oh, did I– misunderstand?”

The rush of relief makes Eddie want to giggle, “no, you– you’re fine. And you… I have no complaints about your response.” He can feel the warmth of the blush on his cheeks. “It was very validating.”

Buck huffs, “Eddie, kissing you is not validating.”

“I dunno, felt like a confirmation to me.” Eddie says, shooting a smile at Buck as he turns the wheel, “nice to know that my interest wasn’t just theoretical.”

Buck looks golden and pleased at that, “yeah?”

“Yeah, Buck.” Eddie assures him, feeling the same thrill he gets sometimes when they’re coming off a call that went just right, “I felt very supported in my not-straightness when you let me kiss you. Thanks for the welcome into the community.”

It’s freeing, saying it out loud, even if Buck’s right and Eddie doesn’t have a label he feels sure of yet. He knows he’s not straight, and that he wants Buck with an intensity that sort of hurts. He’s not too bothered about the word for it.

Buck’s good knee is bouncing, “I– uh, would be happy to support you more. In the future. If– uh, you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Eddie teases, “you volunteering to have my back?”

Buck’s nod could be spotted from space, “always.”

Eddie can’t keep himself from reaching out and putting his palm on the back of Buck’s hand, his fingers slotting between Buck’s like a zipper, “big promise.”

Buck inhales, small and shocked, “well, someone said–” he flips his hand over so they’re palm to palm, and Eddie is glad to feel Buck’s a little sweaty, like he’s nervous too, like Eddie’s not the only one feeling overwhelmed, “you said you wanted to build a life with me. And- and that’s– that’s all I’ve wanted for years.”

Eddie squeezes Buck’s warm hand, “we’ve been building it.”

“Yeah.” Buck is blushing, a smile at the edge of his lips as he looks down at Eddie’s hand on his, and Eddie really needs him to be less attractive because Eddie is driving. Buck’s hand flexes in Eddie’s grip, and he startles, “wait, Eds, what the fuck?”

Eddie waits for Buck to realize he had some portion of their conversation in his head and left Eddie out of it.

“You- I was gonna- Eddie, I asked you to track me on dates!” Buck pushes his free hand over his face.

Eddie laughs, “you did.”

“What is wrong with me?” Buck asks into his own palm, “I have spent so much time thinking about not thinking about you that I was gonna have you watch me like I watch tagged sharks online!” He looks over, eyes big and wide and blue, “who does that?”

“You.” Eddie squeezes again, “us.”

Buck gapes at him, “you– Eddie I–” he swallows, and Eddie is grateful for the red light so he can look over and see the stunned expression on Buck’s face, “I love you.”

Eddie blinks, feeling like he just won a fight in a knockout, arms above his head in a crow of joy. “Yeah?”

“I- oh, man, I didn’t say anything– you said all those things and I just sat under you and I just realized I didn’t say anything back! But I do, Eddie. I love you. I have been in love with you since–” Buck looks overwhelmed, “well, a-a long time. Don’t ask Maddie, she’ll make fun of me.”

Eddie’s throat is tight with how much emotion he’s being bowled over by, “I’m going to ask her.”

“Ugh.” Buck doesn’t look very disappointed, his eyes are shining and his smile is wide and the lines that Eddie cannot wait to see turn into wrinkles at the sides of his eyes are deep.

“I love you too.” Eddie brings Buck’s hand to his mouth, kissing a knuckle. “I don’t think I said that earlier.”

Buck shakes his head a little, in disbelief, “it’s okay.”

The car behind them honks loudly, and Eddie is reminded that they are driving. “Fuck.” He holds one hand up in apology and continues down the road, letting go of Buck’s hand reluctantly, explaining when Buck pouts, “you are a distraction.”

“Yeah!” Buck grins, bouncing a little in his seat, “I know.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hold back the fond laugh, “unrepentant.” 

Buck’s boyish shrug makes Eddie want to lean over the center console and kiss him, but he focuses on driving instead because he’d promised to pick up Chris by noon because his friend has a swim lesson. And Eddie’s mind finally turns to Chris. “We– I have to talk to Christopher.”

Buck stills, “oh. Right. Of course.”

“He deserves to hear it from me. I don’t want to hide this from him.” Eddie has a sudden rush of apprehension down his spine, because he’s not letting Christopher dictate his life, but he does want his son to feel safe and loved at home. And the dread that the idea of another call to Texas puts in his gut is hard to ignore.

“I know.” Buck says softly, sweeter than Eddie thinks he deserves, “and– I’ll understand. Recovery time will help. Then, well. I might need, uh, a few weeks on B-shift, but I will figure it out.”

Eddie hates how everything in Buck’s life including himself has prepared Buck for rejection, “I– I think… he loves you, Buck. I know he doesn’t show it like he used to, but that’s teenagers. I’m not going to let him make this choice for me, it just might be complicated. I want this.”

It’s hard to voice that, and Eddie’s proud of himself until Buck speaks, quiet and sad. “C’mon, Eddie.” Buck tucks his hands in to his torso, shoulders smaller, and Eddie squeezes the wheel so he won’t do something stupid. “We know in a choice who you pick, and the thing is he’s the right choice every time. I’d choose him too.”

Eddie wants to scream because if he’d spent any time examining himself before moving away he would have known how he felt and never said that, “I should have just asked you to come.”

“What?” Buck sounds shell shocked, like he’d never even considered it. 

Eddie worries at his bottom lip, “I should have asked you if you’d come. I spent more time on FaceTime with you while I was there than I did in person with my parents. The only times that house felt like it wasn’t crumpling in around me like I was in a trash compactor were when I finally got Chris to move back in and when you were on the screen. It shouldn’t have been a choice, Buck. I should have just asked you to be with me.”

They’re at another red light so he risks a look at Buck who looks like he just got sucker punched, mouth open, eyes glassy, “I would have.”

Eddie nods. He thinks he knew that even then, which is maybe why he didn’t even begin to ask. 

It’s quiet in the car for a moment, but Buck breaks the silence, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“What?” That’s the last thing Eddie would have expected from Buck. Because Buck is the man who clutched to the idea of Abby longer than some of Eddie’s entire relationships.

Buck clears his throat, “I– if I was there then I wouldn’t have–” he swallows, “Athena would have been alone to get the dose. And, uh, I wouldn’t have gotten to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s heart breaks at the thought of Buck getting the call he’d gotten. At Maddie left without Chim. Athena feeling even more powerless than she’d been. Buck leaving so much unsaid to Bobby. It was bad enough, being alone and then telling Chris, he’s not sure he could have managed seeing Buck get hit by it too.

They’re on Chris’s friend’s block, so Eddie reaches out and puts his hand on the cap of Buck’s shoulder, a place he’d touched before the realizations of the past day, “I will talk to him once we’re home.”

Buck doesn’t shake the touch off, but he also doesn’t lean into it, just looks down at his hands in his lap, “okay.”

Eddie parks, and tries to focus on acting normally as he heads to the door to help gather Chris and all his stuff. He intentionally doesn’t look at the car while he waits for the door to open.

__

Buck spends the whole ride back to Eddie’s asking Chris questions to the point that he gets a “you g-good?” from the kid after Buck had asked him what Chris thought would win: a Godzilla sized house cat or an equal weight of house cat sized Godzillas. 

Eddie has avoided looking at him, acting like the road deserves all his attention even though at the same intersection they’re stopped at Eddie had held Buck’s hand. At one a few turns back Buck had said he loved Eddie and Eddie had said it back.

Buck wonders if he’s not going to be able to drive this way for a bit. 

Chris is obviously tired from staying up too late and not sleeping in much, which makes Buck’s stomach clench because he doesn’t know if Eddie should wait until it’s a good day. Buck could survive, he thinks. It’s just– if he’s going to have to give up Eddie he’d like to know soon so he can start walling off the part of his heart again. Because he’s not losing the best friendship of his life to feelings they both can’t get over so he’ll have to figure something out. 

He was friends with Eddie while in love with him before. He can do it again. Scrub away at the memory of Eddie’s lips on his, the sweetness of Eddie’s confession.

“Did you have lunch?” he asks as they all move into the house, four crutches making taps on the ground, and Eddie navigating around them both and opening doors. “I can make something?”

Chris shrugs, “not hungry y-yet.”

Buck looks at Eddie pleadingly, trying to think of a way to give them space.

Eddie nods, “I could do a sandwich if you want to see how it goes, Buck. You’ll need to get used to cooking on crutches at yours.”

Chris makes a noise of annoyance that Buck doesn’t know what to do with, but he makes his way into the kitchen glad to have an excuse, and hears Eddie say, “can we talk?” as he moves away.

They move into Chris’s room, door shutting, and Buck has walls between him and a conversation that might change his life, but it’s not his conversation to hear, so he tries as hard as he can to focus on getting out the components of a turkey and cheese sandwich so he can have something to do with his hands and his mind.

Toasting bread is easier when he doesn’t have to toss the whole bag of bread onto the shelf by the toaster and can instead just bring two slices to the machine.

Spreading mashed avocado onto toast is far easier when he doesn’t have to balance on one foot as he slices around the pit, when he can hold the bread while spreading instead of squeezing crutches into his armpits.

Layering turkey and cheese are fine, but spreading mayo is a bitch because the toast moves more in comparison to the weight of the avocado.

Rinsing lettuce is kind of a pain, and he definitely can’t use the salad spinner to dry it, mostly because Eddie doesn’t have one. 

Making a single sandwich takes Buck nineteen minutes. 

Chris’s door still hasn’t opened.

He starts to make a second sandwich. Buck’s not hungry, the pit opening up in his gut is obscuring his stomach, but he cannot just stand and stare at a sandwich he made for Eddie if Eddie is going to come through the door and break Buck’s heart.

Also maybe Chris will get hungry. Buck was starving for every year ending in -teen, even when his parents were fully focused on him and bought him everything he needed it had still felt like Buck couldn’t get enough calories into himself before he burned them adding new height and muscle to his body. Chris has been stretching up and up, nearly as tall as Eddie at this point. He’ll probably be hungry.

He’s six minutes into the second process, which is going better, when he hears the creak of a hinge and Eddie’s voice saying something muffled but shaped like love you.

Buck stares at the layers of meat he’s managed to put on the bread and wonders if this is the moment he goes off turkey for a while. He didn’t appreciate it enough if it is. It’s a good steady source of protein. Comes in some nice varieties.

Eddie’s footfalls are so familiar. He counts them and waits, trying to map out how many steps from Chris’s door to the kitchen.

He can’t make himself move, so he just freezes. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn. Buck had always thought of himself as a fighter, running into danger, not from it. But in the face of this he freezes.

Eddie comes in and Buck doesn’t look up for a moment, staring down at the nearly finished sandwich on the board in front of him. It needs mayonnaise. If Buck were gonna eat it he’d add hot sauce, but Chris doesn’t like hot sauce. 

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, and Buck can’t resist looking up because Eddie’s voice is rough and raw and Buck is his best friend before anything else and he shouldn’t make Eddie be alone when he sounds like that.

Eddie’s eyes are glassy, there’s pink around them like he’d cried. He looks like a painting of a saint, like someone should make him into stained glass. Buck’s chest constricts with how beautiful Eddie is now that he’s letting himself look.

I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him

Eddie’s smile is small and a little watery, and Buck wants to crawl into one of the cabinets and hide like he used to when he was playing with Maddie as a kid because he can’t face this. 

Eddie must be able to see him crumbling because he moves fast, hands on Buck’s cheeks before Buck can say anything, “it’s okay.” Eddie sounds as shocked as Buck feels, his hands are shaking and clammy on Buck’s skin, “he– Dios, he’s such a great kid. He said it’s okay.”

Buck realizes from the burning in his chest that he hasn’t taken a breath in too long, and he sucks in a noisy inhale, “he did?”

Eddie’s smile grows, like he’s just now understanding what’s happening, the sharp points of his canines visible on both sides, “he did. Even told me it’s ‘fucking stupid’ that you’re moving back to yours while you heal.”

“Language.” Buck sniffs, wiping his hands on his own pants before reaching out to settle one on Eddie’s hip, the other on his crutch. He leans into Eddie’s dominant palm, feeling the heat of it warm his cheeks, still trying to process the news. 

“I told him he gets a pass because it’s not every day your dad comes out to you, but also that that pass does not extend to if you go on a research binge and show me some label I really like. One time un-straight dad swear pass.” Eddie’s thumbs are smoothing along Buck’s cheeks, scraping the stubble there.

Buck tugs a little at the belt loop his hand is settled at, wanting Eddie closer, and Eddie goes easily. Buck’s a little shorter because he is leaning on crutches, and Eddie’s arms go over his shoulders, pulling Buck into a hug. Buck’s tucked in against Eddie’s throat, and he presses a quick kiss there before whispering into the narrow sliver of space between them, close enough he knows Eddie has to hear whatever he says, “he’s a great kid because of you, Eddie.”

Eddie squeezes instead of answering, but Buck knows he means thank you.

They stay like that for a bit, holding each other until Buck’s leg twinges, and he shifts, and Eddie pulls back, but only far enough to look at the counter top next to the sandwiches then back at Buck. It’s bare because Buck can’t create his normal cooking chaos with insufficient hands, and he’s about to explain that when Eddie gets a determined look and moves, quick because Eddie’s always been fast when he’s decisive.

He shifts Buck’s weight onto his functional leg, then his hands are on the back of Buck’s thighs and before he can make a squawk of protest Buck is lifted up onto the counter, hot, braced leg out in front of him with Eddie’s hand supporting it from beneath, unfinished sandwich at his side. Eddie takes the crutches and leans them against the counter, within reach but no longer in the way, “Eddie, what–”

Eddie’s pressed into his space before Buck can elaborate, lips on Buck’s before Buck can even close his mouth from talking. A little off center, a little too fast, but Buck melts into the contact immediately, curling down to meet Eddie, one hand clutching at Eddie’s neck, the other bracing himself, pinky touching the edge of the cutting board. 

Eddie’s the one who deepens the kiss, and Buck is more than happy to let him set the pace because he’s never had moderation when it comes to anything involving Eddie, and even though he’s been very accepting of everything so far, Buck doesn’t want to scare him off with the intensity of his needs.

Because if Eddie were to offer anything Buck would take it. Like he does when Eddie licks at Buck’s lips, Buck opens to let him in, and when Eddie shifts farther into Buck’s space, he moves his good leg out to accommodate Eddie’s hips, and when Eddie’s hand that isn’t supporting Buck’s leg slips under the shirt at Buck’s side, Buck shivers and makes a little noise of encouragement.

“He’s right.” Eddie says against Buck’s lips when they break to breathe, and Buck has no idea who Eddie could be talking about. Maybe God? 

“Who?” Buck feels flayed raw from just the few points of contact between the two of them.

Eddie’s smile makes Buck want to lick his canines, and that is not a thought he’s had about anyone before, so he stores it up to see if Eddie will let him later, “Chris.”

“He usually is.” Buck agrees easily because the kid’s never steered him wrong, and he can’t think very much when Eddie’s finger tips are digging into the back of his thigh.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Eddie’s smile turns a little teasing, which Buck maybe Pavlov’ed himself to be into because it just makes him want to get closer, taste more, have more Eddie.

Buck just shakes his head, because he can’t think of a reason to lie, not with Eddie so close and so real, “nah, but you said it, and it was about Chris being smart, so I bet it’s true.”

Eddie rewards him with a kiss for that, which means he was right, which makes Buck hum happily against Eddie’s lips.

“So you agree?” Eddie murmurs against the skin of Buck’s temple as he presses a kiss to Buck’s birthmark, and Buck has maybe grown some new nerves there because it’s never made him shiver like that to be touched there.

He nods, trying not to dislodge Eddie’s lips, “yeah, course.”

Eddie pulls back even though Buck was doing his best to keep him close, and his smile is wide and Buck either did the best thing ever or Eddie just got away with something, and he has a sinking suspicion it’s the later, “so you’re staying, then.”

Buck frowns, “huh?”

“You said we were right, that it is ‘fucking stupid’ that you’re moving back to your apartment.” Eddie’s hand trails along the bare skin on Buck’s forearm, “so you’re staying.”

Buck’s jaw drops, “Eddie–” he blinks, “did you just Regina George me?”

Eddie’s eyebrow goes up, “who is that?”

“From Mean Girls. She does the ‘so you agree, you think you’re pretty’ thing. Taylor loved that–” Eddie’s hand tightens on Buck’s thigh, which makes him feel warm all over, “jealous.” Eddie doesn’t deny it, but his grip loosens, so Buck continues, “you got me all kiss drunk and tricked me.”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m a firefighter, we use what we have at our disposal.”

The easy confidence is hot enough that Buck has to pull him back in for a kiss, and tries all the things that he likes– nipping at the scar on Eddie’s bottom lip, holding Eddie’s jaw just so as he kisses so Buck can take what he wants, tracing his tongue across the sharp points of Eddie’s teeth. It’s only once he needs oxygen that he pulls back, “fine.”

He feels victorious that Eddie looks a little awe struck, that it takes him a second to realize what Buck is replying to. 

He’d have given in earlier if he knew it would earn him a smile like the one Eddie is giving. Like Buck matters. Like he’s making Eddie’s life better just by sleeping in Eddie’s bed and lazing around on Eddie’s couch. Like having Buck in Eddie’s home makes Eddie happy.

Buck’s hand shifts and there’s a clatter as something falls off the counter. It makes Eddie startle a little, but he doesn’t release Buck’s injured leg, which feels so thoughtful and loving that Buck resolves to Google what the best pose for blow jobs are that don’t need him to bend his knees. He has some ideas, but he knows there’s experts that will confirm his instincts or give him new inspiration.

Eddie looks at the ground and his eyes widen before he starts to giggle, pressing his laughter into the skin at Buck’s shoulder, “holy shit, Buck.”

Buck sits up, looking down at the floor, and imbedded into the linoleum floor right next to Eddie’s foot, less than half an inch from his boot, is the point of the chef’s knife he’d used on the avocado.

Buck looks at the blade, then at Eddie’s unharmed foot, and snorts in laughter too, because it’s been a seriously shitty few months. Eddie left, and Maddie got kidnapped, and Buck both destroyed his own credit and relapsed with Tommy, and Bobby died, and Eddie was going to leave again, and a building fell down on Buck, and he kind of hates his new apartment, and he dislocated his knee badly enough to need more weeks off work in a year where he’s maxed out some of his stuff already, and he’d been painfully in love with Eddie and running from it for so long. 

This little miss, a moment of good luck after Buck and Eddie finally taking the step towards happiness feels like the universe finally redirecting the avalanche it’s been sending Buck’s way. “Lucky.”

Eddie nods, and Buck can feel the movement because they’re so intertwined. 

“You want a sandwich?” Buck asks as the laughter dies down, because he made them, and he’s staying, and he can smell the turkey and it’s making him kind of hungry after the rush of relief is subsiding.

Eddie looks over at the plate Buck made him, then back at Buck, “you gonna stay and have one too?”

Buck looks at his partially done one, “yeah.” He shifts forward, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder to let himself down only onto his good leg, “can you put mayo on it, though? It’s annoying on crutches and we’ve established I don’t need practice taking care of myself solo.”

Eddie passes him the crutches and smiles, “sure.”

Buck makes his way to the table. He watches as Eddie adds mayo, and then as he moves to the fridge and opens the bottle of hot sauce, drizzling it over Buck’s sandwich without asking. Because Eddie knows Buck, and he’s always been the kind of guy to do things quietly even when Buck doesn’t remember to ask.

“I love you.” Buck says it just because he can. Because he’s not going to have to hide it and pack it away. 

Eddie looks up from where he’s putting the top bread onto Buck’s sandwich, “I love you too.”

Buck had, when he was a probie, teased Bobby that the secret ingredient to his cooking was probably love or something cheesy like that, and Bobby had rolled his eyes and said no. Eventually Bobby had showed Buck some of his actual secret ingredients. But as Buck had learned and watched from him, seen how he spread joy by providing for his team, for his family, he’d come back around to his original theory. Sure, the cocoa powder made the chili have something special, but the Bobby of it all had made it better too.

He takes a bite of his sandwich that Eddie had cut diagonally– something Buck preferred but never commented on if someone else handed him free food– and he’s pretty sure the Eddie of it all makes it taste better. “You ever think we don’t appreciate turkey enough, Eddie?”

Chapter Text

Buck’s obviously a little embarrassed that he cries at the end of Tokyo Drift, but for the first time in their friendship Eddie gets to reach out and pull him across the couch cushion and let him rest his weight on Eddie in response. Eddie knows it’s goofy because there’s only a few movies until the death is reversed, but he doesn’t want to spoil anything and also it’s nice holding Buck and helping as best he can. His mind flips through the other times he’s thought about doing this and stopped himself because thats just not what they do.

Eddie’s very glad he’s seen the movies before because Buck doesn’t really move away after Eddie pulls him close, and the proximity is distracting in about ten thousand ways, so if Buck needs a question answered Eddie can at least try and respond, even if the answer is usually ‘uh– crime’.

He catalogues new things. Like the way Buck’s hair tickles against his throat when Buck’s head moves, and the amount Buck’s chest rises and falls under Eddie’s arms breaths deep– barrel of a chest expanding and contracting, the softness of his stomach when he’s curled up– making Eddie want to clutch at it- to celebrate how comfortable and beautiful Buck is, the sensation of his laughter as it passes through his back.

As Buck settles in he talks more, offering opinions on relationships between the crew, on feasibility of stunts, asking questions about the cars as if Eddie will know the answers. Buck does that, looks to Eddie for answers even though Eddie knows Buck’s more than capable of figuring everything out on his own.

So Eddie tries, pulling out knowledge from tinkering with his own vehicles and from the bit of time he worked as a mechanic, and at one point they have to pause the film so they can call in Chris and ask him if anything the film is talking about with computers and social media makes sense. Buck sits up when he does, and puts some space between himself and Eddie, and Eddie lets him because Buck has the right to set his own boundaries regarding what he’s comfortable showing Chris right now.

Eddie does not, however, let Buck move to the other side of the couch or completely separate them, because that is Buck hiding from what he wants because he doesn’t really believe Chris could be okay with it all.

Eddie is kind of still reeling from the way his son’s eyes had gone sad, from the honesty in his voice that he didn’t judge Eddie, that he loved him, that he wanted his dad to be happy and himself– not to hide from him. Eddie both feels like the best dad ever for raising a kid like Chris, and like a horrible one for making his son go through something new. He can almost hear Buck’s voice in his head saying this isn’t going through something, but Eddie’s managed a striking number of changes to his life in the past six hours, so he’s not quite ready to get rid of judging himself on a different scale than he would others. 

Other people can have grace. Eddie doesn’t grant himself much.

Chris ends up sitting through thirty minutes of Furious 7 explosions before giving up because he’s missed six movies of context, but nods in agreement when Eddie tells him dinner’ll be on the table in a couple movies.

Once he moves back into his room Eddie tugs at the fabric of Buck’s shirt, “told you he’s cool with it.”

Buck nods, a little slow and shaky, “yeah, but that can mean lots of things.”

“You can talk to him, if you want.” Eddie offers as he strokes along Buck’s arm like Buck is an unsettled animal, liking the way Buck’s hair is soft and blonde under his nails, “not now, but some time. It could be good for both of you.”

Buck draws his lip between his teeth, and Eddie is suddenly sure that all the times he’d handed Buck some chapstick were because he didn’t know what to do with the way Buck’s bottom lip was pulling all his attention. 

“I don’t wanna overstep.” Buck says quietly, like he’s almost hoping Eddie won’t hear it over the rampage on screen.

Eddie knows Buck is being serious, which is the reason he doesn’t roll his eyes, but the idea of Buck overstepping in Christopher’s life is kind of ridiculous to Eddie considering one year into knowing the guy Eddie chose him over his entire family to be Chris’s guardian. “You won’t.”

Buck fixes him with a look, “Eddie.”

Eddie pauses, to make sure Buck knows he’s thinking about the conversation, not just placating Buck. “Okay, you might have to figure out a new normal, but you’ve been there for most of his life, Buck. You guys talk. I don’t want us happening making it so you two don’t know how to be you guys anymore.”

The corners of Buck’s mouth fall a little, “I don’t want that either.”

Eddie pulls more on Buck’s arm so Buck will move more fully into Eddie’s space, “give him a little bit, then talk. School hasn’t started up, and you’ll be here while I’m on shift. And if it is bad, then we’ll fix it.”

Buck doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t seem as down, and he does sag into Eddie, twisting so his leg is up on the couch again. 

Eddie puts his arm across Buck’s chest, squeezing for a second before releasing. “Don’t give up on me now, Buckley.” 

He means for it to come out as a joke, but it’s clear Buck hears the raw worry in Eddie’s chest because his hand comes up to clutch at Eddie’s forearm, biting into the skin where Eddie’s tattoo is. Anchoring Eddie across him, “I’m not. I won’t.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the thin skin on Eddie’s wrist where there should be a scar from a bullet wound but Eddie struggles to find it most days. Leave it to Buck to spot it.

The ferocity in his tone settles something in Eddie’s chest. “Better not.” He needs to lighten the air, because it’s been a day of deep talks and Eddie only has so many of those in him, “if you break up with me during these movies they’ll be ruined for me and the final one hasn’t come out yet.”

Buck chuckles even though Eddie doesn’t deserve it, “can’t have that. Gotta see Brian and Dom drive off into the sunset together.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, because he’s pretty sure Buck should have seen the fact that Paul Walker is dead when he looked up the man’s height, “uh– Buck. You know this is the last one with him in it, right?”

“Who?” Buck twists, looking at Eddie.

Eddie squeezes a little, as an apology, “Paul Walker. He died while shooting this one.”

Buck’s gasp is loud, “but– poor Dom!”

That shocks a bark of laughter from Eddie, “and poor actual Vin Diesel. They don’t kill off Brian, he’s just– not on screen.”

Buck sighs, looking at the screen, “so they could still retire to the same part of Mexico, have families next to each other.”

“I guess.” Eddie tries to remember where Brian is supposed to be in the next couple of films, since he’s just generically off screen from his memory.

Buck relaxes, “then I hope 2 Fast Ten Furious 2 or whatever has Dom say he’s headed to Brian.”

“Me too.” Eddie says into the crown of Buck’s head, pressing a kiss to Buck’s hair, “that’d be nice.”

__

It turns out that Eddie is an asshole who doesn’t warn Buck that even though a guy isn’t dead in the story of the film, they will do the saddest fucking driving apart scene and play a heartbreaking song over it. Buck’s face is wet, and he can’t believe he’s cried for two movies in a row. 

He can tell Eddie isn’t laughing at him, but he feels like an idiot anyway, sniffling over some guy he’s only cared about for a day or so, “a little warning, Eddie.”

“I told you he died!” Eddie exclaims, “less than an hour ago! We discussed their driving off together.”

“You didn’t tell me they were going to break my heart!” Buck wipes at the tears on his face, “we’re seven movies in, I’m bonded to these idiots!” Eddie mumbles something that sounds like I know the feeling but Buck doesn’t call him on it because the credits are rolling and he’s still trying to get his emotions under his own control. “You suck.”

“You usually guess the murderer on any show by the first introduction of their character. I thought you’d know something like this was coming!” Eddie squeezes Buck’s side reassuringly.

Buck shrugs, “I think that’s because they’re formulas. They probably couldn’t hint at this in the script or editing since they didn’t know he’d die.” Eddie’s hand is warm and comforting even though Buck feels silly. “You still suck.”

“Could I make it up for you with a drink?” Eddie offers, and Buck nods even as Eddie is already untangling himself from Buck’s side, because Eddie knows he gets dehydrated when he cries from movies. After Chim made him watch Neverending Story he’d chugged two full bottles of water and sworn off any future brother-in-law movie nights unless Eddie vetted them in advance. 

He blinks, letting himself take in just how long he and Eddie have been something. The assumption that if one was invited the other would hear, if something happened the other would step up.

Bobby’d given him a talk, a few weeks after he and Eddie had become a fully cohesive duo, told Buck that he’d brought Eddie in not as a way to rein Buck in, but as someone for Buck to lean on, to play off of. To know he can trust almost as much as he trusts his own hands. Buck hadn’t really gotten it then, but he’d nodded along and promised he and Eddier were tight, that Bobby hadn’t had anything to worry about. The little he remembers of the conversation was Bobby shaking his head and looking at him with some mix of exasperation and fondness.

It hits him all of a sudden that he’s not going to get to tell Bobby about Eddie. That Bobby won’t be there when they finally get caught holding hands at work, to watch them with a knowing smile, or maybe a look of mild shock that they’d figured it out.

He feels his eyes begin to water again at the loss. 

Bobby would have approved. Buck knows that down to his core because Bobby was a good man and loved Buck and Eddie, but Buck would have liked to have the chance to show up at his door and tell him he’d finally found his person. He would have liked to get to ask Bobby for help picking the right place for an anniversary, or testing out recipes for Valentines.

The last time he’d felt like he had a serious future with someone he’d even day dreamed that Bobby might be the person he went to for help with his vows.

He feels a tear escape, rolling down his cheek, he would have really liked the clap on his back of approval, the hug that Bobby would have offered. The confirmation that Buck’s on the right path, and that Bobby’s proud of him for finally getting there.

He sniffs, wiping at his nose, and Eddie returns with a large glass of ice water and a little furrow between his brow.

Buck wants to shove it down, to shake his head and act like he’s still sad over Paul Walker, but he can’t start lying to Eddie less than a few hours into their future. He swallows, takes a sip, and then looks at Eddie who has remained perched on the edge of the couch rather than settling back in behind Buck, clearly waiting for Buck to say something. “I wish I could have told Bobby.”

Eddie’s eyes go from concerned to sad, shoulders slumping a little as he knocks his shin into Buck’s uninjured knee, “about us?”

Buck nods, feeling like he can’t get more words out, but knowing Eddie gets it. At least mostly.

Eddie smiles sadly, lopsided, “I would have gotten such a shovel talk.”

That earns a little laugh from Buck, “nah, he knew you.” He sniffs, trying to get himself under control, “but be prepared for Maddie and Athena, I don’t know what they’ll do.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, like it’s only just occurring to him the circle of people around Buck. His hand moves, resting at the back of Buck’s neck, calming and broad, “he’d have been okay with it.”

Buck nods, just enough so Eddie will feel it under his palm, but not enough to dislodge the grounding touch, “I know. I just–” he breaks off, trying to create words for the enormity of the loss, the reality that he kind of always wants to tell Bobby about everything, that he still sometimes wakes up and takes a second before he remembers. The way he still catches himself reaching for his phone when vamping on a recipe to ask for herb advice or show off the caramelization on his veggies. The way he turns and looks for Bobby’s silhouette at a scene, not Chim’s. “I wish he could have seen me.”

Eddie squeezes a little, an encouragement, even as he stays silent, leaving room for Buck to talk. It’s something he’s loved about Eddie since the beginning, the way he lets Buck go– on and on about anything, just listens and doesn’t roll his eyes or cut Buck off just because he’s rambling.

“He saw me, I know he did, but I wish he could have seen me– seen us get here.” Buck worries at his lip, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the concrete reality of Eddie’s hand.

It shifts, which Buck thinks is from Eddie nodding, “me too. You know, he told me once that love isn’t something you find.” Buck can’t help but turn and look up at Eddie, grateful when Eddie doesn’t let go, just shifts his hand to rest on his trap. Eddie meets his gaze steadily, “we had a talk about finding happiness after–”

The pause hangs between them for a second, Buck nodding because he knows Bobby and Eddie shared a loss that no one else on the team gets, not really.

“He said you don’t find it, you make it.” Eddie finishes his sentence, eyes soft as he looks at Buck, “and we– we may have taken a while, but I don’t think anyone would say we didn’t build this. We made this. And Bobby saw all of that, so I think– I don’t think he’d have been surprised.”

Buck thinks maybe his organs have become honey from the way it feels like he’s all sweet and gooey from Eddie’s words, he reaches up, putting a finger under Eddie’s chin to coax him down, “we got here.” Eddie leans in and Buck waits until he’s close enough that Buck can’t see his whole face, just the mole under his eye, or his eyelashes, or the bridge of his nose depending where Buck’s looking, “finally.”

Eddie’s laugh brushes against Buck’s mouth before his lips do, and Buck wonders if it’s always going to be like this. If he’s going to spend the rest of his life teasing Eddie and laughing into kisses.

He tugs at Eddie’s elbow, urging him down off the arm rest and onto the cushion at Buck’s hip, making him rest his weight on one knee and hold onto Buck’s shoulder so he doesn’t climb into Buck’s lap. Buck deepens the kiss because Eddie is right. They got here through brushes with death and painful loss and natural disasters and so much hard work, so they’ve earned some sweetness.

The sound of a throat clearing makes Eddie startle back, and Buck looks over his shoulder to see Chris with his eyes scrunched shut.

“Oh, uh– so-sorry–” Buck starts because being okay with stuff is one thing, plus he hasn’t even talked to Chris yet.

Chris puts up a hand to stop Buck’s apology, “how ma-any times have you guys seen your pa-arents make out?”

Both Buck and Eddie freeze, and Buck can’t prevent himself from making a face of disgust that Chris clocks immediately.

“None? Good. I would like th-that to be true for me too. Starting now.” 

Eddie is very pink, and Buck bets his own cheeks are matching, “okay. Sounds good.” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable as he tries to subtly shift away from Buck.

“Kissing is allowed. I-in moderation.” Chris narrows his eyes at the two of them, “I ha-ave friends. And tía Pepa. A-and school and clubs. Just– do it th-then.”

Buck would be okay if the couch became a black hole and swallowed him up. Even if he did experience eternal spaghettification, which scared him a lot when he watched a video about it on YouTube. It would be less painful than having a teenager tell him to get a room. He swallows, trying to get his throat to work properly, “you got it. Doors closed or house empty.” He holds up a hand, “scouts honor.”

Eddie scoffs, “no one here was a scout.”

Buck, maturely, does not pinch him on his side like he deserves. “Okay. Buckley pinky promise.” He holds out his hand, offering his little finger to Chris, who rolls his eyes but comes over anyway, hooking his own around Buck’s, “we’ll keep it PG in front of you. And, if we mess up we’ll pay for the therapy.”

“Dad already pays for that.” Chris snorts even as Eddie squawks in dismay, which is a pretty good record for Diaz reactions if you ask Buck. 

“Yeah, well, I’ll cover every other session, I can put you on my policy too.” Buck promises, because he wants Chris to know that he’s in this. That he’s not going to suddenly disappear. That he’s sticking around for as long as he’s got life in him, and that Chris is not an afterthought. 

He doesn’t look over at Eddie even though he can feel the way Eddie’s gone still because the promise is to Chris. Chris considers him through his glasses in the serious way he does where he looks so much like his dad it kind of makes Buck’s chest ache. There’s a beat where Chris is still holding Buck’s pinky, and then he shakes it their hands once, “deal.”

Buck feels kind of floaty with relief, and he thinks his eyes might be watering but he tries to muscle it down, “cool.” Based on Chris’s second eye roll of the conversation he doesn’t seem to succeed. “Wanna watch… Ffffeight? We haven’t started it yet.”

Eddie has recovered enough to sigh, “Fate. It’s Fate of the Furious.”

Chris smiles, “nah, I have plans to pla-ay something on chat with friends, but the Indiana J-Jones marathon I’ll be there.” He waves in the general direction of both of them as he heads back into his room.

It’s not done, Buck knows he’ll still need to sit down with the kid on his own, hash out what being with Eddie means to their relationship, but it’s a quiet acknowledgement that it’s okay. That they’ll be okay. 

Buck feels like he holds his breath until he hears Chris’s door close. He exhales out a quiet “I want to die.”

“You want to die?” Eddie grumbles, “I was able to keep sneaking around with his mom from him for weeks and less than one day in with you and he’s already making me wish the soft spot in the corner would collapse under us and take me away from this talk.”

Buck snorts, “he was a lot more naive back then, and a bunch less sneaky.”

Eddie’s head rests on Buck’s collar bone, “and I’m not sneaking around with you.”

Buck blinks, he hadn’t even thought about that. “Right. You– you planning on… what, um, what are you going to tell the team?”

Eddie sits up, looking right at Buck, “that we’re together.”

Buck knows he doesn’t cover the surprise in his expression well, “Eddie, it’s okay– I can wait, let you– you don’t have to–”

Eddie’s hands are framing Buck’s face immediately, “Buck, I don’t care who knows. Or, I do, actually. But not how you think. I want people to know. I don’t– I’ve tried hiding before and all it does is cause pain. And I’m not going to ask Christopher to keep my secret, so I’m, uh… out, I guess? Or, I will be.”

“To everyone?” Buck can’t really process the enormity of that decision for Eddie, even though he’d come out to his parents thanks to soot smudges.

Eddie shrugs, a smile slowly crossing his face, “I don’t need him walking on eggshells when my parents call. And you’ll be here, so they’ll ask. I’ll write them an email tonight and deal with talking to them tomorrow.”

Buck knows he is grinning, not because the idea of an email about him is funny, but because Eddie is so open, so unburdened by loving Buck. “Tell the team?”

Eddie nods in agreement.

Buck considers the multitude of ways they could do it, “goofy selfie? Cryptic emoji chain? Torture Chim by telling Maddie while he’s in earshot and making him think he has to keep a secret?”

“Hmm, all good options.” Eddie plays along, leans into the fun like he always does when Buck invites him to, “we could send an invite to your moving back in party with both of us as hosts?”

“Eddie–” Buck wants to talk him down, to let Eddie settle into being with Buck, to give him an escape hatch.

“Buck. I want you here. I hate your apartment. I cannot think of a time when I have been sick of you.” Eddie precisely cuts down each of Buck’s arguments, “move in. This home is yours if you want it.”

“Of course I want it, Eddie. It’s why I moved out, because wanting it so bad made me have to look away from too many truths.” Buck has to say because no matter if he thinks maybe Eddie doesn’t want what he’s saying, he can’t let Eddie think Buck wouldn’t want anything Eddie gives.

“Okay, then move in. Again.” Eddie’s eyes are sparkling, “I’ll split the moving costs.”

Buck groans, remembering the whole misery of moving that he’s only just fully unpacked from, “I am never getting another positive landlord reference.”

“That’s okay. Next place we’ll buy instead.” Eddie says, easy and smooth like it’s a forgone conclusion that they’ll own a home together. “I get G.I. benefits for home ownership so your references won’t matter as much.”

Buck has to drag him into a kiss for that, because no one has ever out-Bucked Buck on the enthusiasm for being in a relationship. No one has gone all in on Buck without either reservations or Buck having to pull back, to muffle himself a little to be palatable. Or lie, in the case of Taylor.

“Wait, did Chris call me his parent?” Buck blurts out after pulling back, and Eddie laughs against his temple.

“I was wondering if you missed that.” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know if he even noticed. But it’s what you are.”

Buck digs his fingers into Eddie’s thigh and side, mind still reeling as he replayed Chris’s words, “he said he caught his parents making out.” He knows he’s not doing a good job of keeping his voice normal about that, “which includes me! And also was one of the worst images he’s ever put into my mind.”

Eddie tucks his face in next to Buck’s pressing a kiss to the hinge of Buck’s jaw, “please don’t remind me. I think my parents don’t know what making out is.”

Buck laughs, “we are both one of three kids. Our parents have had sex, Eddie.”

Eddie’s teeth graze at Buck’s skin as he shakes his head, “Catholic. Immaculate conception, but for people who aren’t God.”

Buck leans so his neck is a little more open to Eddie’s teeth, “Eddie if you want to live by the rules your son–” 

“Our.” Eddie’s tone leaves no room for argument and frankly Buck’s mind blanks out at the growl.

“If you want to live by Chris’s rules then you’ll keep your teeth off my skin.” Buck finished because he’s not sure he has the strength of will to say our son just yet. 

He likes that he can feel the little huff of air out of Eddie’s nose on his neck. “Fine.”

Buck regrets his words immediately, because Eddie decides to be a bitch and lick a stripe along Buck’s neck before putting space between them again, and it both draws out a noise of annoyance and makes Buck’s hands ache as he prevents himself from dragging Eddie back to his neck and begging for more marks.

There’s a heated moment where both of them have to hold themselves back, but eventually Eddie settles into the space behind Buck and presses play on the movie that has been ready on the screen since Chris came in.

“Three more!” Buck announces to help bring them both back to the task at hand.

Eddie hums in agreement and pulls Buck closer, “time to meet Charlize Theron.”

“Ooh.” Buck wiggles into Eddie’s side, “she’s hot.”

Eddie’s slight tightening of his arm around Buck is nice, the conformation of a little jealousy making Buck want to strut around the room.  

__

It’s late and Eddie’s brain is exhausted from the day, his heart is tired from so many revelations and conversations and giant moments. There’s a scheduled e-vite for the whole team on Buck’s phone and Eddie drafted and sent an update to his parents with Buck reading over his shoulder so Eddie wouldn’t feel so alone and terrified when he sent it. His eyes are tired from the screens and there’s a little crick in his neck from holding Buck close for so many films, but he cannot imagine ever going back and changing anything about the past few hours.

Buck’s sitting on the side of the bed shrugging on a T-shirt, a little muffled as he gets twisted up, “I just– do you think Dante is going to–”

Eddie is trying to listen but Buck’s half naked on Eddie’s bed while discussing theories about what will happen in the next film from one of Eddie’s favorite franchises, so he feels a little justified in his ogling. 

“Like we know he can’t win, but–” Buck continues, and Eddie drags his eyes away from the Xs on Buck’s chest, looking around the room instead, and lands on the collar on his bedside table.

Buck is talking and Eddie should be listening to Buck. He loves listening to Buck. But he can’t help but stare at the loop, think about what Buck had unconsciously offered up the day before. An app for owners, permission to track and drag him home if he’s in danger. Eddie’s feelings when clicking the collar around Buck’s arm, even if it had been playful.

He licks his lips, thinking about spike of anger he’d felt when Buck tried to manage Eddie leaving by getting a dog. The intensity of the no that had echoed through him when Buck talked about hooking up with Tommy again.

He has a flash of an image of Buck with a tag on something around his neck that says if lost return to Eddie Diaz and it makes something in Eddie chant mine mine mine.

Buck’s phone pings and he looks down at it and starts replying to whoever it is, giving Eddie a moment to cross over to the collar as casually as he can. He reaches out, feeling like he has to hide away the offending item so Buck won’t notice Eddie’s lapse into possessiveness.

He wants Buck to feel comfortable in their relationship. Not boxed in and controlled.

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice makes him startle. He doesn’t drop the collar, but it’s a near thing, and when he turns Buck’s eyes are stuck on the contents of his hand.

“Yeah?” Eddie tries to think of an explanation, “I was– gonna put this away.”

It’s not an explanation, but it’s also not I was thinking of my name around your neck and I need this out of sight. 

Buck looks up at Eddie, then back at the collar, “oh, right. Yeah. Because– donation?”

Eddie hates the idea of this collar leaving his house. Buck had bought it as a gift for Eddie, even if it was in a roundabout way, and he doesn’t want some random stray with it. He clenches a little, saying as little as possible because he doesn’t want to lie to Buck.

Buck’s brows come together and he looks at Eddie like he’s solving the daily puzzles he does, “th-there’s no rush, though.”

Eddie nods, too quick for casual, “right.”

Something goes sly and happy in Buck’s eyes, a smile growing on his lips, “come here.”

Eddie goes, collar still in hand, and stands in the V of Buck’s legs, Buck tilting up to look at him, collar still in Eddie’s grip. Buck’s smile has grown in the couple of steps, “why do you look like the cat who ate the canary?”

Buck’s hands come up to Eddie’s hips, “you like me.”

Eddie frowns, trying to think when Buck could have doubted that, “yeah. I do.”

Buck nods, pulling Eddie just a little closer so Eddie’s legs are brushing against the inseam of Buck’s sleep pants, “I’m gonna say something and if you don’t like it just tell me, okay?”

Eddie puts his empty hand on Buck’s forearm, nodding.

“I’m yours, Eds.” Buck squeezes at Eddie’s hips, “for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours.”

It’s only once he repeats it that Eddie remembers the way Buck had studied him holding the collar, “yeah? All mine?”

Buck’s smile grows like Eddie gave him a present, hands sliding up and under the shirt at Eddie’s sides, “mm hmm.”

Eddie shifts, free hand drifting up to the side of Buck’s neck, thumb pushing a little pressure at the pulse there. He feels Buck swallow, leans down, pressing his forehead to Buck’s, “I’m yours too. All of me, mi cariño.”

Buck’s inhale is shaky, but his hands are sure as he pulls Eddie forward, forcing Eddie to move. His lips are hungry, like Eddie’s said all the right things, and Eddie has to drop the collar on the bed next to Buck’s hip to grab at any of Buck he can reach without moving his steady pressure on Buck’s throat. 

“Say it, Eddie.” Buck mumbles against Eddie’s lips, words broken into pieces by kisses and the slide of skin on skin.

“You’re mine, Buck.” Eddie growls, “I’m taking you home and keeping you.”

Buck makes a small noise, sounding wrecked, “forever?”

Eddie pulls back, meeting Buck’s eyes, because he loves to kiss Buck but he needs Buck to know this isn’t just something he’s saying because Buck noticed his reaction to a collar, “Evan Buckley you say the word and I’ll buy you a silver pendant with my details on it so everyone knows where to bring you back to and make sure they make a matching one to go by Saint Christopher.” He leans back in, nipping at Buck’s lower lip.

Buck melts under his touch, hand leaving Eddie’s side to cover over top Eddie’s hand that’s still on his throat, “we’re gonna have to, like, frame that collar.”

Eddie snorts, “it’s not exactly wall art.”

Buck’s smile tastes happy, which Eddie doesn't think makes sense with his human senses, but Buck’s joy is so bright it also seems like the kind of thing that could be true. Buck pulls back, looking excited, “we could put some bits off it into a set of bands. I saw someone do that with a hair on Etsy.” 

Eddie blinks for a moment, brain trying to catch up with Buck, who looks first confused and then horrified, and he starts talking before Eddie can say anything, “I will do better when, uh, if? I propose. But I also– you’ve done it, I’ll understand if–”

Eddie shakes his head, “you ask and I’ll say yes. Unless I ask first.”

Buck’s grin is blinding, “you’re on.”