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Eddie slowly eases himself out from underneath Buck.
He'd stay there all day if he could, monitoring Buck's breathing, feeling for his heartbeat. But he has stuff to do, a loft to clean, a bag to pack.
With Buck asleep and curled up on the couch, he somehow looks even smaller then he did when Eddie was holding most of his body weight up.
The sight makes his chest tight, like all the oxygen in the room was sucked out.
Eddie climbs up the stairs, stopping every third or fourth step to look back, trying to convince himself Buck will be fine.
He gathers dirty clothes in an already half full laundry basket. Eddie finds an absurd amount of socks, none of which seem to actually match.
From under Buck's pillow, Eddie pulls out his old LAFD shirt he thought he lost months ago. His heart does something funny and he has to sit on the end of the bed before it beats out of his chest.
He's been missing it since the lawsuit. This whole time, it's been here, in Buck's bed as he laid suffering in pain all alone.
Eddie does not think about how long Buck lied there, how much longer he would've if he hadn't come. He certainly doesn't dwell on the fact that he called Buck baby several times. That's for another day.
He shakes his head and gets back to the task at hand. Eddie's good at that, stuffing his emotions down until they either cease to exist– which doesn't actually happen– or explode out of him when he's alone in the middle of the night.
He stuffs as many clothes as he can into the washer and strips the bed of sheets and leave them at the foot of the stairs.
Since the sink is almost filled to the brink with dishes– and most surfaces having a stray bowl or plate across them– Eddie pushes aside his distaste and distrust of dishwashers and loads it, giving everything a curtesy spray before of course.
He does, however, thank Buck for being a bougie little shit and owning a near-silent dishwasher, washer, and dryer.
With everything being washed, Eddie busies himself with collecting stray takeout containers and the stray tissue.
Then, when he opens the fridge looking for water, ends up dumping half the out-of-date contents in the trash.
"Have you heard of chemo curls?" Buck asks suddenly, apparently awake. He's sitting up now. Eddie startles, having not noticed him moving, too caught up in his head.
He looks up from the collection of half-rotted fruit he's gathered and is trying his best not to gag at.
"How long have you been awake?" he counters. He abandons the fruits and sits next to Buck on the couch.
"Some people's hair gets curly after chemo. But if I already have curly hair, does it get curlier or straighter?"
"You're an idiot," Eddie says absentmindedly as he presses his palm against Buck's forehead to check for a fever.
"Eddie," Buck whines as he tries to bat away Eddie's hand. "Humor me, c'mon."
Eddie eyes Buck's hair, which is so short it could be the curliest it's ever been and he'd have no idea.
"Looks pretty straight to me."
Buck snorts to himself. Eddie rolls his eyes. He frowns when he feels the heat radiating off Buck's forehead.
"You're hot," Eddie murmurs.
"Take me out to dinner first, at least," Buck gasps, scandalized, reaching for an invisible string of pearls. "Here I was, thinking you were a gentleman."
"You have a fever," Eddie corrects. He'd flick the side of Buck's head if he didn't look so miserable already. He's just glad Buck hasn't brought up the whole baby thing. "Do you have Tylenol?"
"I was joking," Buck says, but his blush says otherwise. "I'm fine."
Eddie tuts and starts forming his plan to raid Buck's cabinets until he finds some.
"I'm fine," Buck repeats.
"Uh-huh," Eddie hums, already getting up from the couch.
"Eddie," Buck whines and grabs onto his wrist, "don't go, I'm so bored."
He tosses the TV remote Buck's way and slips out of his grasp. "Here. Watch Animal Planet."
"I'm tired of Animal Planet," Buck complains. "It's all I've been watching."
"Put on Real Housewives then."
Buck pauses and turns to look at him. "You haven't finished that by now?"
"I haven't watched it since..." Eddie trails off awkwardly. Since the day before Buck filed the lawsuit, months ago.
"Really?" Buck's face gets all twisted in the way it always does when he wants to cry but he's pretending he doesn't.
"Yeah, Buck. It's our show."
"Oh," Buck says softly. Wordlessly, the TV clicks on and starts playing The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
Eddie tosses a bottle of Tylenol onto the couch and rushes to put the clothes in the dryer and the sheets in the washer, just incase he misses the beginning of a fight and has to make Buck rewind.
"Did you take your Tylenol?"
"Yes, mom," Buck groans.
Cleaning out the fridge takes nearly twice as long, with Eddie continuously stopping so he can hear better, and trying to fend off Buck's protests that the food isn't actively rotting.
When the dryer starts announcing the cycle is done with a screech every five seconds, Eddie pauses the TV and brings the remote with him, because Buck is untrustworthy.
He comes back with a laundry basket of warm clothes and a duffle bag he found in the back of the closet that Buck frowns at.
"You planning on stealing my clothes?"
Eddie dumps the clothes on the coffee table and tosses socks into Buck's lap for him to fold once a pair appears.
"No, I'm packing your overnight bag."
More like an over-month bag, if Eddie is able to get Buck to stay that long. He can't bear to think of him leaving to come back here, all alone in this empty loft.
"Are– Are you sure? You don't have to."
"You're coming home with me, Buck. I'm not leaving you here."
"Eds–" Buck starts.
"Evan."
"Eddie," Buck counters, like he could even begin to form a logical argument.
"I'm not leaving you here," Eddie repeats. "I'm taking you home. You've been alone for months. What would you have done if I didn't show up today? What if you choked? What if–"
"But I didn't," Buck snaps, sounding like he's trying to convince himself too. "I didn't."
"But you could've. You're not staying here, end of story."
"Eddie–"
"End. Of. Story."
Buck angrily folds together two socks that don't remotely look alike and throws them on the coffee table.
"Fine."
"Okay," Eddie says easily. He hits play on the TV.
Most of the clothes from the laundry go right into the duffle bag, and Eddie pointedly ignores every single huff Buck sends his way.
The episode of Real Housewives comes to an end as Eddie finishes unloading the dishwasher, at the same time the sheets in the dryer are done. He takes that as a sign to begin herding Buck from the loft.
He turns the TV off and stuffs the remote in his back pocket, dodging Buck's attempts to grab it back.
"Hey!"
Eddie brings the few clothes left in the laundry basket and the now clean sheets upstairs. He tucks the clothes away into dresser drawers that don't seem to be organized with any sense, and makes the bed even if Buck isn't going to be sleeping in it anytime soon.
"Alright," Eddie says at the bottom of the stairs, clapping his hands together. "You ready to go?"
Buck glares at him, and his arms hug around a throw pillow like that will somehow anchor him to the couch.
"If you're going to kidnap me, could you grab something from the hall closet?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"It's by the door. You'll know it when you see it."
Eddie opens the hall closet and starts to suspect this is some sort of distraction so Buck can make a slow escape. Then he sees it, sitting by the door, a big box of legos.
He picks it up with a huff, closing the door behind him with his foot. He drops the absurdly large, no doubt expensive, lego box on the coffee table. Absentmindedly, he returns the remote so he doesn't accidentally bring it with them.
"You're buying his forgiveness," Eddie guesses.
"No! No, I'm just– I'm. I'm..." Buck flounders.
"Yeah," Eddie finishes for him. "What do I get?" he jokes.
"What do you want?" Buck asks, a look far too serious across his face.
Eddie frowns. "Buck. I was joking. You know that, right?"
"I could–"
"You're not buying my forgiveness. You don't have to buy my forgiveness."
He doesn't care how much Buck won in the settlement, the thousands, millions even. Eddie won't be bought off for this.
"Don't I? Shouldn't I?"
"Why would you have to, Buck?"
"Aren't you mad at me?"
"What?" Eddie says softly, feeling like he just got punched in the gut.
"Because of the lawsuit, at the grocery store–"
"I was." Buck chews at his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Hey, I said was. I didn't know why you hadn't come to me first, and that was one of the worst parts. Then I couldn't see or talk to you during it either."
"I'm sorry," Buck says quietly, gaze falling as he starts picking at his nail beds.
Eddie drops onto the couch next to him. "It was– just a rough fucking time to not be able to talk to my best friend."
"I'm sorry," Buck repeats.
"I'll get mad again if you keep saying sorry."
"Sorry," Buck says reflexively. Eddie shoots him a look. "Sorry," he says again, just to be an ass.
"Then you took the money," Eddie says quietly, a near whisper. "And I couldn't wrap my head around why you would do it. But... I mean, clearly it was for a good reason."
"I wouldn't classify cancer as 'good', but sure."
He glares at Buck for saying such a stupid thing, but it breaks the tension, makes a smile spread across his face.
"You're such an asshole. I've missed you, bud."
Eddie wraps an arm around Buck's neck and pulls him close. He hears a soft sniffle and pats his shoulder.
"Can we get out of here, please?" Buck asks wetly, wiping at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. "I'm so sick of this place."
Eddie shoulders the duffle bag then pulls Buck to his feet, ignoring the way he makes grabby hands like a toddler asking to be picked up.
Every time he's reminded by how light Buck is now, Eddie feels a sharp pain in his chest. They shuffle over to the door and Buck stuffs his feet into slides.
"Do you have everything?" Eddie asks.
"You're the one that packed my bag."
Eddie resists the urge to push Buck over. You can't attack someone with cancer, it's just rude. Instead, he nudges him out the door and locks it behind him.
They settle into old routines on the drive home. Eddie's country music station comes on automatically, Buck groans and changes it. Eddie drives like a maniac, Buck bitches about last-minute turns and obsessive horn usage.
The walk inside is slow, Buck's energy already flagging despite not being up for long. Eddie's hand instinctively settles on Buck's lower back, and he winces at the feeling of his spine against his palm.
Buck instinctively heads for the couch, but Eddie scoffs and starts dragging him down the hallway.
"No, Eds," Buck protests, trying to dig his feet into the floor but still getting pulled along. "Lemme sit on the couch."
"Nope." Eddie nudges the door to his room open with his foot. He drops Buck's duffle by his dresser, along with the ridiculously sized lego box. "You're lying down. In a bed."
"I don't wanna," Buck groans stubbornly.
"I don't care."
Eddie nudges and pushes him until he's at least sitting on the edge of the bed. He gives Buck a pointed look until he takes his shoes off and lies down.
"Good. Now sleep," Eddie orders, like Buck can sleep on command.
"I'm not tired," Buck yawns.
"Uh-huh," Eddie tuts. He tucks the blanket closer around Buck, ignoring his snort and efforts to squirm out of reach. "Stop moving."
He turns the lights off, like it's not mid-afternoon and sunlight is filtering in through the window.
"Eddie," Buck murmurs, eyes already fighting to stay open. "You– Earlier– You said..."
"Yeah?" Eddie prompts gently. He's pretty sure he knows exactly what Buck's talking about, but if it's something else he won't risk brining it up.
"Did you call me baby?"
Eddie sucks in a fast breath and leans back, preparing to kick himself out of his own home. Buck's fingers latch around his wrist and stop him from getting too far.
"Don't go. We can forget about it, if you want." Buck's pretty blue eyes flutter. "But I– I don't want to forget."
"You don't?" Eddie croaks.
"No." Buck shakes his head softly. "Do you?"
"No," he hears himself saying.
Buck beams up at him. Eddie can't help but copy him. He sits on the edge of the bed while Buck straightens up.
"But," Buck starts, chewing at his bottom lip. "I just– I want to kiss you. Very badly, but not like this. I don't want to remember it as me being a hairless skeleton."
"Okay," Eddie says softly. "We'll wait. And you're not a hairless skeleton. You'd have to lose a lot more weight for that. A lot more."
"Asshole." Buck punches him lightly in the shoulder. "I'm not fat."
"Right," Eddie says sarcastically. "Hey, I have to leave to pick Chris up from school soon. What do you want me to tell him?"
"Um," Buck sighs. He picks at his nails. "What have you told him so far?"
Eddie shrugs. "Not much. Just that we weren't going to be able to see you for a while."
"Sor–"
"Don't even finish," Eddie threatens.
"I guess just tell him I've been sick? If he asks for specifics I'll tell him the most watered down version of cancer possible."
"Alright." Eddie gets up and stuffs the blankets back into place. "You good?"
"All good. Thanks, doc."
"No problem," Eddie says. "I'll be back soon."
Buck doesn't fall asleep entirely, just sort of drifts off half-awake, startling when he hears the front door opening.
He sits up straight and wrings his hands together until Eddie's bedroom door flies open.
"Buck!" Chris cheers.
"Chris, buddy!" Buck grins so hard his cheeks hurt. He was so sure Chris wouldn't want to see him. "C'mere, I've missed you sooo much. You can come up, it's okay."
Chris slams into the edge of the bed. Buck scoots over and lets him climb on, carefully handing his crutches to Eddie.
He falls against his chest, and Buck barely stops himself from crying.
Chris pulls back and spreads his hands as far as he can. "I've missed you this much, Buck."
"Wow! That's so much! Hey, I– I'm sorry I haven't been around lately."
Chris shrugs. "That's okay. Dad said that you were sick."
"That's right," Buck agrees quietly.
"And 'cause of my CP I have a com– compro–"
"Compromised immune system?" Buck suggests.
"Yeah, so I couldn't see you while you were sick. Did you lose all your hair 'cause you got sick?"
"Christopher!" Eddie exclaims.
"It's okay, Eds. The, uh– the mediation to help me stop being sick is supposed to stop the fast-growing cells that are making me sick, but hair is also a fast-growing cell, so I decided to cut it off so the medicine could focus on the sick parts."
Buck internally winces as Chris contemplates what he told him. He just hopes Chris doesn't have any follow up questions and he has to figure out another way to explain cancer to a seven year old.
"Can I touch it?" Chris asks finally.
"Sure, buddy," Buck laughs. He tilts his head down so Chris can feel. "Some of it's starting to grow back already, right?"
"Uh-huh," Chris hums absentmindedly, still rubbing his scalp.
"Alright, Chris, you've felt Buck's head enough," Eddie chastises lightly.
Buck nudges Chris with his knee. "Hey, remember that lego set you were telling me about a couple of months ago?"
He smiles at the way Chris' eyes light up.
"The t-rex one?" Chris asks with barely concealed lego-freakout excitement.
"That's the one. I figured since we haven't been able to do legos together for a while we have to make up for lost time."
Eddie takes that as his cue to grab the lego box and plop it down on the bed.
"Really! For me?"
"Of course, bud," Buck says softly. "Unless your dad wants it?"
"No!" Chris yells. "It's mine. Thank you, Buck! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"No problem, kiddo. Should we do it now?"
"Absolutely not," Eddie cuts it, arms crossed against his chest.
"Dad, please, please, please?"
"I already step on your legos enough as it is, I am not letting them infiltrate my bed too."
"C'mon, Eds, please?" Buck begs, trying his best to make his eyes wide while batting his lashes. "We won't lose any."
"Yeah, Dad, we won't lose any!"
"After dinner," Eddie says sternly, but he can see Buck is already picking at a corner of the box. "And if I find one, one, loose lego in my bed, this is becoming an outside toy."
"Uh-huh," Buck mutters, preoccupied with ripping the box open. "Loose legos in the bed, got it."
"No loose legos in the bed." Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and turns away so he doesn't have to see the mess. "I'm making dinner."
Chris and Buck are already so wrapped up in the legos they don't even make a comment on dinner getting burnt or tasting horrible.
Eddie gets lucky though and finds leftovers from a lasagna Bobby made at the station earlier in the week.
He sticks it in the oven for a few minutes and watched Chris and Buck from the doorway while it heats up.
He entertains the notion of letting them eat in bed for a good ten seconds, then thinks better of it. Chris usually keeps clean, but he's still a kid, and Buck is practically one himself.
"Alright, dinner time," Eddie announces once he's set the table and dished out the lasagna.
"Nooo," Chris and Buck whine in unison.
"Dinner now, or I'm taking the legos away," he threatens.
"Fine," Buck grumbles.
Chris and Buck make quick work of their lasagna. They only slow down when Buck momentarily chokes and they all agree to make sure their food is chewed before swallowing.
They take off as soon as they're both done, both forgoing dessert in their effort to get back to their precious legos.
By the time Eddie comes back from cleaning their dirty plates, Buck and Chris are fast asleep, the lamp still on and half a dozen piles of legos are spread out across the bed.
He huffs, does his best to keep the legos in their separate piles as he moves them from the bed to the top of his nightstand and dressers, gently pulls Chris to the middle of the bed, turns the lamp off, and climbs under the covers.
There's a loose lego pressing into his back, but Eddie feels the most complete he has in months.