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Buck's miserable. He's the most miserable he's been… maybe ever. Which is something, right? Because he's definitely been pretty miserable before. But no, he's pretty sure he's hit his peak here. There has to be a level, right? For the amount of suffering a human being can endure? He's right there. He's hit that level. Or maybe he's actually gone past it and invented a new ring of woe, because he would, wouldn't he.
He's so cold. He is so unbelievably cold. A few hours ago he was so hot he threw his hoodie off and stood in the kitchen with his head in the freezer until Chim and Hen convinced him to sit down with some ice-packs instead. He hasn't been comfortable in—three days? He's starting to forget what it's like. To not feel like this. If someone sat him down and told him to his face he'd been in withdrawal for three years now, he'd believe them.
And he's uncomfortable in a way he's never felt before, ever. Nothing is sitting on him right, his skin doesn't feel settled, every part of his body has hurt at least once for no reason and every time he even starts to think wait, yes, this is comfortable, I can sleep like this, his stomach lurches and he throws up.
He is damp and sticky and gross and horrid, his throat is dry but his stomach is queasy, this stupid bed is really not warm enough and he knows the only way out is through, but he would like to be out now, thank you very much.
Buck sits up in his bed, pulling the blankets up around him as he does. Eddie's in the chair next to him, knees touching the mattress, as close as he can be. They've been talking about nothing for a little while now, mostly about how Buck's feeling and a little about how good that sushi place actually was. He's got one hand resting on Buck's glass of water so he's prepared to hand it over the next time he asks. He's always so thoughtful, readying himself for whatever anyone asks of him before they even have. Buck feels lucky for it.
"Could you pass me the—thanks." Eddie's handing the water to him before he's finished his sentence, one eyebrow quirking as their eyes lock. Buck takes a slow sip and listens as Eddie asks,
"How you feelin'?" Eddie's voice is so warm when he's worried. Buck can almost feel it, somewhere inside him. Like—his heart beats a little faster and he feels a little fuzzy and cozy. Maybe he's dreaming it, but he's almost positive if Eddie just stayed by his side and talked, and talked, and talked to Buck, it would warm him up from the inside out.
He's trying not to feel bad that Eddie's worried. He's trying not to feel bad that everyone is worried. Instead, he's trying to stay focused on just getting through. And when he does feel the guilt start to spiral, he swallows it down and reminds himself all the people here love him, and he loves them, too.
"Same old," Buck answers, slow. "Uh, everything hurts. And the nausea's stubborn. And it's… still really cold in here."
Eddie purses his lips and looks around the room, searching. "Want me to go grab you another blanket or two? Or oh, hey," he snaps his fingers and points up, remembering. "Where'd you put that heating pack you bought after you tweaked your hamstring in November?"
Buck snorts and shrugs, helpless. He has no idea where that thing went. It had been a life-saver, though. Man, it would be really useful right now. "Honestly, not sure. You'd think I'd leave it in the bathroom somewhere, but last I checked it wasn't with my first-aid stuff and it wasn't with my self-care stuff, so where would it be?"
Eddie pauses, one finger on his chin, eyes darting around before they land on Buck again. "Did you leave it at my house?"
"No. I bought this one 'cause I left the last one at your house."
"When was that?"
"When you twisted your shoulder at work?" Eddie stares at Buck, blank. "Last year? Six-car pileup and a victim got pulled out at a weird angle? You had to get, uh…" He looks for a word until he finds one. "Flexible?"
Eddie's eyebrows raise and his eyes widen a little. Then he blinks and looks away. "I woulda said creative," he mumbles, half under his breath, and shakes his head. "Right, no, I do remember that now you mention it. Okay, if I were a heating pad where would Buck put me…"
Buck's helpless to the stupid smile that lifts his lips. Eddie looks at him for a second, like he's checking to see if it's there, and when their eyes meet once more, both their smiles grow bigger. He takes another sip of his water, obscuring his smile before it blooms stupidly big, and then hands it over. Eddie dutifully takes it back.
"Probably somewhere he'd never find it again." Buck supplies Eddie with very helpful advice.
"It's too on the nose to be in your pantry, right?" He crosses his arms. "You definitely would leave it in there, but by now surely you would've seen it?"
Buck is a little offended by this. "Uh, yeah, Eddie. I'd have found it by now." Probably. Although, now that he's thinking about it… it has been a little while since he's really deep-cleaned and organized his pantry.
"Uh-huh. I believe you, Buckley." Eddie pulls his phone out at the same time that he says this, which leads Buck to believe this is, perhaps, untrue.
"Who you textin', then?"
"The other Buckley."
"Uhhh, she's a Han now, Eddie. Has been for a while."
"Once a Buckley, always a Buckley, Buck." Eddie does pause in his typing for a moment to look up at him. "Do you think Chim counts as a Buckley?"
"Hm." Buck thinks about it. He may not be a Buckley in name, but his children have Buckley blood. And he's married to a Buckley. And marriage is all about becoming part of each other's family. But the Buckley family, well. "Does it work like that? Sure you become family, but does that mean you join each other's?"
"Well. If it works for the woman, shouldn't it work for the man? It's more than just the name, right?"
"I guess." Buck tilts his head, considering. "Howard Buckley does not sound good."
"Yeah, no," Eddie agrees. "Okay. Maddie said she'd ask if anyone's seen it, and that she'll check the pantry, too."
"Eddie, I'm telling you, it's not—" Buck cuts himself off as a heavy and sudden wave of nausea rocks him. He lurches, covers his mouth, and watches Eddie dart to reach for the trash can. But it passes, slowly, until it's back to the manageable, albeit miserable, level it had been a moment ago. Eddie puts the trash can down and reaches out for him, one hand cupping his knee above the blanket.
His hand is warm. Goosebumps dart up his body, head to toe, another sudden chill, and Buck sinks down into his blankets. Eddie's hand moves with him, consistent.
"Alright?" He asks, and his thumb strokes slowly across his knee. "Did it pass?"
"Yeah," Buck answers, a little breathless. "Close call."
Eddie hums and gives him a sad, brief look with his face, pursed eyebrows and pout. He doesn't have to say it to hear it—I'm sorry. He reaches up, hand off the glass of water to press the backs of his fingers to Buck's forehead.
Ah. Warm again. "Wow, you weren't kidding," he says, moving his fingers from the center of his forehead to his temples. Everywhere Eddie touches, Buck blooms with warmth. He knows Eddie runs hot, but he's never quite appreciated that like he is now. "You're like an icicle, Buck."
"Yeah, that sounds right."
Eddie frowns again, looking down at him. There's warmth in his eyes, too, Buck swears it. He can feel it like he does his hands or his knee, another comfort. He hesitates before he asks, "Do you want those blankets? I asked Maddie for that too, but I can go—"
"No, it's okay," Buck answers, quicker than he has been. He doesn't really want to be alone right now. "I can wait."
"Are you sure?" Eddie searches his eyes. "I can make it quick."
"I'm sure," he nods. Eddie takes a breath and nods in return, then moves his fingers. Before he takes them off his head, he strokes them softly over Buck's forehead, lingering for a moment above his eyebrow. Where his birthmark is.
The rest of Buck remains frigid, but his face feels weirdly warmer than it did five minutes ago.
Eddie blinks like he's coming back to himself and pulls away, clearing his throat."Hey, how'd that card game go with Chris? You win?"
"Actually, no," Buck answers, frowning. "I taught him the game and thirty minutes later he's won five times."
Eddie laughs. Buck has always liked the sound of Eddie's laugh. It's always made Buck feel very warm, soft and gooey, marshmallow melting above the flame. It makes sense that it does again. Briefly, Buck is the warmest he's been in nearly three hours. Until another sudden chill creeps up on him out of nowhere, ice racing down his spine and through his feet. He trembles and pulls his blankets up the rest of the way.
"Okay, Buck, I really feel like I should get you more blankets." Eddie's already standing, hand leaving his knee, and Buck mourns it immediately. He sticks his hand out of the blankets and into the freezing igloo of the air, stupidly damp skin chilling him to the bone, just to grab Eddie's wrist and halt him.
"No, don't. Can you just, uh. Sit with me?" He doesn't mean for it to come out quite the way it does, can't really keep the pleading out of his tone. Honestly, he hadn't known he was going to ask at all until he did. But he does really want him to. Buck's freezing. And Eddie comforts him just by being near.
"Of course, Buck," Eddie says. Simple, easy. Everything with him always is. Buck lets go of him and tucks his blankets beneath his chin, watching Eddie walk around his bed to the other side. He sits himself next to Buck slowly, careful not to jostle the bed too much, and scoots in beside him. He touches his knee to Buck's and asks, "Good?"
"Yeah," Buck answers. He can already feel Eddie's body heat drifting into him, sweet and cozy where their knees bump and their sides meet. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me." Eddie turns to look at him, and Buck turns, too, shuffling slightly. His head tilts and his neck is sort of straining, but if he sits up any more he's just going to get colder. Not worth it. Though it gives him a pleasant view of Eddie's face, etched with gold from his bedside lamp. He almost seems softer, somehow, like the glow has smoothed out his sharpest features, but then, Eddie is always soft, isn't he? "I got you."
Affection blooms in his chest, striking him so suddenly he's nearly moved to tears. He's said thank you to everyone so many times today he's lost count. Buck is so lucky to be loved by these people. So lucky to have them, and always grateful. Endlessly grateful for Eddie.
He feels that guilt come creeping in again. It suddenly feels important that he knows.
"Hey. I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he says, feeling Eddie tense beneath him. "And I'm sorry for lying."
"Buck," Eddie sighs. He reaches for him, squeezing his shoulder. Eddie never stops comforting him, like he couldn't if he tried, second-nature. Buck soaks it up like a sponge, greedy and relentless. He'll take as long as Eddie gives, could never have too much of him. "Don't apologize. I wish you'd told me," he says, tilting his head toward him meaningfully, "but only because I hate knowing that you were going through this alone. But you don't have to be sorry. I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it." He does look sorry, and it breaks Buck's heart. "And I'm here as long as you need me."
Buck should look into whether anyone has ever died from loving too much. He's suspecting he might end up the first recorded case himself. Before he can respond, Eddie tacks on with a pointed tap to his shoulder, "And after you don't, too. Through and out and on the other side."
"I can't even imagine the other side right now," Buck complains. "Are we sure nobody has ever gotten stuck in withdrawal?"
"Yep."
"Really sure?"
"Mhm."
"One-hundred percent?"
"Yes, Buck."
"Hm."
Eddie's eyes do that thing where they like, twinkle, when he looks at him. Something weird happens between the crinkles of his eyelids and the curves of his brow. Manipulates the light in the room and puts stars in his eyes. Buck's entranced every time.
He could fall asleep like this, maybe, leaning on Eddie. He's comfortable, slowly warming where they do touch, and he can even ignore the way his neck is going to get a cramp as long as neither of them move a muscle and nobody turns the big light on and the nausea doesn't surge up again and his head doesn't start splitting in two. Maybe he could get a half-hour's sleep in, even. A cat basking in the sun, Buck could shut his eyes and stay right here forever.
Except no, he can't. Another tremble, shock to his system, frosted spine and icy toes. He wraps his arms around himself and jolts, a little violently, unwittingly. Eddie shifts right away, wrapping an arm around Buck's shoulder and pulling him toward himself. "This okay?" He asks, grip careful and loose, allowing him the room to wiggle away if it's too much.
Luckily for Buck, it's exactly the opposite. If Eddie's hands and eyes and smile are warm, the whole of him is hot, made from sunlight. He's reminded of winters growing up, coming home from out in the cold, snow on his boots melting on the welcome mat. Chills from the rush of warmth settling around him.
Something sweet twists in his chest.
"Sure," he says, casually, like this isn't the best he could've hoped for. They're already so close together, Buck figures he might as well get comfortable. So he does, pulls his legs toward himself and settles his head on Eddie's chest. Eddie adjusts with ease, scooting down the bed himself so they're not so slouched, and man is Buck suddenly so glad he splurged on a good mattress, because for the first time in maybe days he's comfortable.
He's still pretty damn cold, but he's comfortable.
"Comfy?" Eddie asks. Buck nods, and his fingers tap-tap against his shoulder. They move slowly, sliding from shoulder to bicep to elbow, back up and then down again. Warmth pools into him, and he takes a deep breath. "Let me know if you need me to move."
"Mmkay." Buck lets himself relax, as much as he can. Tries to blot out the random aches in his back and the nausea ever-present in his chest and the sweat on his brow. He focuses on Eddie, instead. The off-white of his shirt, the slight tickle of his fingers, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. When he settles, he realizes he can hear Eddie's heart beating steadily in his chest, a solid thrum. It's a little quicker than Buck might have expected. Still, it soothes him like a trance.
Man, Eddie is warm. Very warm. He's always very warm. Eddie should consider retiring as a firefighter and getting a job as a personal human furnace. Buck would spend all of his money on him. He's doing a great job.
"Aw, Buck," Eddie whines, and Buck stirs slightly. "I left your water on your side of the bed. Want me to get it?"
"Nope."
"Sure?"
"Yep."
"So you really are comfortable, huh?" Eddie lifts his hand to his forehead again, though this time he checks with his palm. The ice in Buck's veins is melting, slowly. As long as they stay like this, he'll be warm in no time. He's pretty sure. He hopes. "Honestly, you do look like it. Most peaceful I've seen you yet." His voice softens.
"Yeah, well. You're comfy," Buck reluctantly admits. He smiles when he feels Eddie's chest rumble with his laugh. "Don't laugh, it's true."
"I know," Eddie answers. "Shannon used to tell me I was like a human teddy bear, though I don't know how true that is."
"You know, I'm inclined to agree, actually. What's Chris think?"
"Well, he clung to me like a koala when he was little," Eddie admits. "I fell asleep reading him bedtime stories more times than I could count. And I don't even want to know how many of those times I could hardly move my neck the morning after," he tacks on. "Still did it the next night, anyway. I don't know if he's ever compared me to a teddy bear, though. Maybe a dinosaur."
"You could be a cuddly dinosaur. I should ask him."
"You know, if you do, I'm sure he'll tell you something embarrassing. Probably about dropping the book on my face."
"You do that?"
"You never drop your phone on your face?"
"Yeah, but a book is different. Who drops a book?"
"An exhausted, single father drops a book on his face, Buck."
"Mmm, no. Still weird."
"Wait 'til it happens to you and tell me how you feel then."
"Never gonna happen." Buck yawns, then shivers. Another chill racks him. Eddie reaches forward to pack in the surrounding blankets, then pauses randomly. He waits, for so long Buck is actually about to ask what he's doing, and then asks,
"Do you want me to get under the covers?"
"What?" Briefly, Buck's head goes blank. "Oh."
He probably would warm up quicker if Eddie was under the blankets with him. Body heat transfers easiest through skin-on-skin contact, and these chills are relentless. The idea of Eddie at his side with no blanket between them is equal parts thrilling and terrifying. He hesitates, then says,
"If that's—uh, yeah, if that's okay."
Eddie nods and pulls the covers up. Buck has to wiggle a little so he can free them, then adjusts as Eddie raises the blankets over both of them. They float down slowly, fluffed by Eddie's hands, and he packs it in around the both of them. Then, once they're both snuggled comfortably beneath them, Eddie wraps both of his arms around Buck and pulls them flush against each other.
Buck is suddenly so extremely warm he wonders whether he might have to go sticking his head in the freezer again.
"Good?" Eddie asks. "You need to get comfy?"
"Um. Let me just—" he adjusts. Turns, so he's on his stomach more, and slowly brings his own arm around Eddie's waist. Eddie tenses at first, but after a moment he relaxes. This is better. "Okay. That's better."
"Good," Eddie says. His hand moves from his shoulder and settles near his hip, instead. He traces little circles into his skin. "I'm glad."
Buck shuts his eyes and drinks in the warmth. He could stay like this forever. Eddie's a teddy bear and a sunbeam and a steaming mug of hot chocolate, marshmallows and all. He could melt with delight.
"Hey, Buck?"
"Mm?"
"I, um." Eddie hesitates. Buck pokes him in the side, a gentle encouragement, hey, I'm here. "I'm really glad you talked to Chim." His voice gives, falling into a whisper.
Buck's heart swells in his chest. He's warm inside and out, toasty and safe. Eddie's got him. "Me too."
It'd been the scariest thing he'd ever done. The world could have fallen out beneath him when he'd confessed. It's the reason he couldn't tell Eddie, even though he knew logically he was safe, that Eddie would help him because he always does. But that fear won over him, Eddie's concern staring at him in the firetruck. So heavy a struggle, a burden, too afraid of the consequences and the way he might—would never—look at him.
So he told Chim. And it went fine, and he's going to get through this, and his house is full of his family that love him, who want to help him, and Eddie is here and holding him and Buck loves him so much, Eddie. Of course he's got him. "Thank you."
Eddie takes a deep breath and sniffles, and Buck is grateful his eyes are closed because it might kill him to see the look on his face. Then he feels him move, pressing his chin against his head, tender and sweet and everything.
Buck falls asleep like that, cradled in Eddie's arms, perfectly warm. Cuddle-bug cocoon.
"Hey, guess who found the heating pack? You have too many things in your pantry, Buck." Maddie's voice, slightly muffled, always familiar. Buck hears the creak of the door opening, and her voice gets clearer. "Oh, is he—?"
"Yeah." Eddie's answer comes out quiet, a half-whisper. "Just fell asleep a little while ago. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes."
"Thank God, he needs it. How's he been?" He can feel the slight dip of the bed as Maddie sits. "Any better?"
"Nausea's persistent, he's got random aches. Was freezing thirty minutes ago, hence the, uh." He stops his sentence early and Buck feels him move his arm toward Maddie. "Now I think it might disturb him, though."
"Yeah, he looks pretty comfortable," she agrees. "Honestly, maybe the comfiest I've ever seen him. He always slept terribly when he was sick as a kid. Couldn't just keep his eyes closed, for the life of him. Always tossing and turning. It was so hard to get him to rest like this." She pauses for a beat. "You both look pretty cozy." Maddie says this softly.
There's another beat of silence. Buck wants to open his eyes, but he's right in-between sleep and awake, and if he opens his eyes he might not fall back asleep. So he keeps them shut and just listens, a little distantly, welcoming sleep back in slowly.
"He was cold," Eddie says. "And wouldn't let me help you go look for the heat pack. So, you know, body heat."
"Right," Maddie agrees. The room is silent again. Eddie's heartbeat goes thumpthump, thumpthump. Buck has a feeling he's going to dream about it. Or maybe he is. This could be a dream. It's a wonderful dream, two people shaped like love. "How are you doing?"
"How am I doing? I'm… you know, I'm alright. I'm right where I need to be."
"Oh." The bed shifts. When Maddie speaks again, her voice is closer. "I'm so grateful he has you."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm—I'm good," Maddie answers. "Buck's okay. He's going to be, so I'm good."
"Yeah."
"Okay. Do you need anything?" She asks, and her voice drifts again. "Doesn't seem like you'll be moving anytime soon."
When Eddie speaks, his seems a little far away, too. "Definitely don't plan on it. Could you just check in with Chris? Tell him I'll head down when Buck's awake again."
"Of course. You know, you might as well get some rest yourself. If he needs you, he'll wake you up."
"You think so?"
"He already asked for help, didn't he? Hardest part of that is over. And he knows you've got him."
"Yeah," Eddie whispers. "I do."
Maddie says something again, but Buck doesn't quite hear it. The world around him drifts away as he falls back asleep, only aware of the sweet, steady thrum of Eddie's heart, and the feeling of his thumb stroking softly over his cheek.
He's warm, inside and out, nestled by love.