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I've been waiting so long
To be where I'm going
In the sunshine of your love
Eddie hates it, this feeling of everything spiralling out of control around him and he’s in the middle of the mess and he can’t do anything about it. He can see the tired, drawn-out look on Buck’s face, the way he holds himself, tense, terrified. All he wants to do is draw Buck into his arms, tuck him away, and hold him close. But he can’t do that because there’s the space, this gap between them. And nothing is right and nothing has been right. And it feels like nothing will ever be right again.
He can’t do anything. So he doesn’t.
He let the carefully constructed gap between them fester until it felt insurmountable. And now he can’t even comfort his best friend when two of their own are trapped in space. So he sits next to Buck in the engine, and all he can think about is the way their thighs are no longer pressed together, that the gap which always felt more emotional, theoretical, is now manifesting physically.
The gap is real. Solid. And terrifying.
Buck is entirely focused on Harry, trying to bring the kid down from the edge of panic. Eddie should be doing something too, he should be helping Harry in some sort of way. But the only thing he can think of is the way Buck now refuses to sit next to him at lunch. How he sits next to Ravi instead. Which should be fine. It is fine. Except it’s not. It isn’t fine.
Harry is still talking, voice thin with panic, and Buck keeps answering in that calm, measured way that isn’t calm at all. Eddie can hear the tightness beneath it, the tremor in every breath. He’s holding it together for the kid, because of course he is. Because that’s what Buck does.
Chim says something from the front, trying to break the tension. Harry lets out a shaky laugh. It’s enough to shift the air.
Eddie turns his head. “Buck.”
Buck glances at him, eyes tired, mouth drawn. “Yeah?”
Eddie hesitates. The words feel heavy, but they’ve been waiting too long. “I hate this.”
Buck frowns, confused. “Hate what?”
“This,” Eddie says. “Us. The space between us. I hate it.”
Buck blinks, stunned into silence. The sirens cast light across his face, red, then blue, then red again. He looks at Eddie like he’s not sure he’s allowed to hope.
Eddie swallows hard. “You’re right here, but it feels like you’re gone. And I don’t know how to fix that. I just… I miss you.”
For a second, Buck doesn’t move. Then his throat works around a swallow. “Eds…” he says softly, like the name itself might break if he’s not careful.
The radio crackles before Eddie can answer. Dispatch. The world comes crashing back. They’re already slowing down, pulling up to the scene.
By the time the engine stops, Eddie’s heart is pounding. He expects the moment to die in the noise, to dissolve like all the others. But when he climbs down, Buck’s hand catches his arm.
“Buck—”
Buck pulls him around the back of the truck, out of sight. The air smells like exhaust and asphalt, the night hot and loud. Eddie opens his mouth to ask what he’s doing, but Buck’s already moving.
He steps close. Too close. His hand comes up, trembling just a little, fingers curling at the back of Eddie’s neck.
“Just—” Buck starts, voice barely there. “Please.”
Then he kisses him.
It isn’t careful. It’s breathless, rushed, the kind of kiss that happens when you’ve run out of time to keep pretending. Buck’s mouth is warm, soft, a little chapped. The contact is light at first, a brush of lips, but Eddie inhales sharply and Buck presses in harder, desperate now, like he’s trying to make up for every second they spent apart.
Eddie’s hand finds Buck’s shoulder, holding him there without thinking. He tastes smoke, adrenaline, the faint salt of sweat. For one impossible heartbeat, the rest of the world fades away.
When Buck finally pulls back, they’re both breathing hard. His hand lingers against Eddie’s jaw, thumb brushing once along his skin before he drops it.
“I shouldn’t have—” Buck starts, eyes darting down.
Eddie catches his wrist, fingers tight. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “Don’t apologise.”
Buck’s eyes meet his, and there’s something raw there, something that looks a lot like relief.
Chim calls out from the front, breaking the spell. Buck takes a step back, still watching him. “We’ll talk later,” he says, voice low and rough, then turns away and disappears into the chaos.
Eddie stays where he is, back pressed against the truck, heartbeat hammering. His lips still tingle. The air feels different now.
It’s nothing. It’s everything. It’s the beginning.
fin