Chapter Text
The first thing Buck learned about fatherhood was that silence was terrifying.
Not peaceful.
Not relaxing.
Not a blessing.
Terrifying.
Silence in Buck’s apartment almost always meant Theo was doing something he absolutely should not be doing.
The second thing Buck learned was that Theo could climb.
Not in the normal young children way where they sort of scrambled awkwardly onto furniture while adults hovered nervously nearby.
No.
Theo climbed with confidence. With purpose. With the reckless determination of someone genetically predisposed toward terrible ideas.
Which, unfortunately, he was.
Buck walked out of the kitchen on a Tuesday morning balancing two bowls of cereal only to discover Theo standing on the kitchen counter in superhero pajamas.
“Buddy,” Buck said carefully.
Theo beamed. “I’m flying.”
“You are standing on granite.”
“I’m Batman.”
“Batman has knees, Theo.”
Theo considered this solemnly before leaping directly into Buck’s arms.
Buck nearly dropped both bowls.
“Jesus Christ— okay— okay— we don’t jump off counters—”
Theo giggled like this was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.
Buck had caught him, obviously. Reflexes honed by years of firefighting and one particularly memorable incident involving Eddie and a collapsing balcony had made sure of that.
But still.
Heart attack.
Every day.
Constantly.
And Buck loved him so much it hurt.
That was the ridiculous part. The unfair part. The part nobody warned him about.
Buck had expected responsibility. He’d expected exhaustion. He’d expected panic and paperwork and daycare costs that looked like ransom demands.
He had not expected this overwhelming, bone-deep love that hit him at random moments.
Like watching Theo sleep curled around a stuffed dinosaur.
Or hearing Theo laugh so hard he snorted.
Or when Theo absentmindedly reached for Buck’s hand in parking lots.
Buck would look at him and think, mine.
Not possessive. Not ownership.
Just… his kid.
His responsibility.
His family.
And Buck would do absolutely anything for him.
Which was why he’d started picking up extra shifts.
College funds weren’t cheap. Neither were clothes, food, daycare, doctor visits, toy dinosaurs, replacement toy dinosaurs after the first ones mysteriously ended up in the garbage disposal, or tiny shoes that Theo somehow destroyed and outgrew at an alarming rate.
Buck didn’t mind working harder.
The problem was that Theo had apparently recently decided sleep was for the weak.
For the last two weeks, bedtime had become a hostage negotiation.
Theo fought sleep with astonishing creativity.
He needed water.
He needed another story.
He needed to know whether sharks slept.
He needed to know whether dinosaurs slept.
He needed to know if dinosaurs ate sharks.
He needed to pee.
Again.
And then again somehow.
And then he’d finally pass out around ten- or eleven-thirty only to wake up at five-thirty in the morning fully refreshed and vibrating with energy.
Buck, meanwhile, felt like roadkill.
“Daddy!”
Buck blinked.
Theo was hanging upside down off the couch now.
“How long can humans survive without heads?”
Buck stared at him.
“…what?”
Theo swung slightly. “Chris says chickens can still run around.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“Can I try?”
“No!”
Theo grinned.
Buck groaned into his coffee.
Across the station loft later that afternoon, Eddie looked up from cleaning equipment and narrowed his eyes.
“You look awful.”
Buck immediately straightened.
“I look amazing.”
“You look like you got hit by a truck.”
“Parenthood’s beautiful.”
Hen snorted from nearby.
Buck ignored her.
He was tired, sure. Exhausted, actually. But he was functioning.
Mostly.
Probably.
Okay, maybe not perfectly, because halfway through inventory his vision blurred unpleasantly and a sharp pulse of pain stabbed behind his right eye.
Buck froze.
Oh no.
No no no.
Not a migraine.
Anything but a migraine.
He could already feel it building. That awful pressure. The sensitivity creeping in around the edges. The nauseating throb beginning to pulse with his heartbeat.
Great.
Fantastic.
Exactly what he needed.
Buck pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Buck?”
He looked up too fast and instantly regretted it.
Eddie was watching him now, concern replacing amusement.
“You okay?”
“Yep.”
“You hesitated.”
“I was thinking.”
“Since when?”
“That’s rude.”
“That’s accurate.”
Buck forced a grin.
Eddie kept staring.
Buck loved Eddie deeply and desperately in ways he was trying very hard not to examine too closely, and of the reasons why was that Eddie noticed things.
Not everything.
But enough.
Too much, sometimes.
Buck could not afford Eddie realizing how badly he was floundering right now.
Because Buck was floundering.
He was tired all the time. He was barely sleeping. He was constantly terrified he was messing Theo up somehow.
Every parenting article contradicted every other parenting article.
Too much screen time would ruin your child.
Too little stimulation would ruin your child.
Structured schedules were essential.
Overly rigid schedules were harmful.
And every time Theo ate ketchup with his fingers while wearing mismatched socks and shrieking about dinosaurs, Buck wondered if social services could somehow sense parental incompetence through the walls.
So no.
He definitely wasn’t admitting he’d spent part of this morning wondering if it was acceptable to let a child subsist entirely on waffles for several consecutive days.
Or that he desperately wanted one evening where another adult took over.
That thought alone made guilt crawl up his throat.
Parents didn’t get breaks.
At least not good ones.
Buck had wanted this. He’d chosen this.
Theo deserved better than a dad already struggling three months in.
“Buck.”
He blinked again.
Eddie was still looking at him.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” Buck said quickly. “Just tired.”
“That kid still refusing sleep?”
Buck laughed weakly.
“Theo thinks bedtime is government propaganda.”
Eddie snorted.
“Chris went through that phase.”
“How did you survive?”
“Barely.”
There was something comforting about hearing that.
Eddie always made parenting sound hard in a normal way. Not in a Buck-is-failing-catastrophically way.
Still, the migraine kept building.
By the end of shift, the fluorescent station lights felt like knives behind Buck’s eyes.
Every noise was too loud.
Every movement too sharp.
And Buck wasn’t entirely sure he was making it through the rest of the evening without another responsible adult present, especially not if making it through entailed entertaining Theo and keeping him alive for four hours before it was time to fight him on bedtime.
Buck wishes that he could just ask Eddie if he’ll take Theo tonight or better yet come around to his house and watch Theo and put Theo to bed just so Buck doesn’t have to be the one to do it.
That thought alone was enough to bring up some unwelcome nausea.
Asking for help meant failing, it meant proving that he wasn’t good enough or responsible enough to be a father, it meant taking the easy road out instead of toughing it out like a good parent would.
So, Buck doesn’t ask for help, instead he asked if Eddie and Chris wanted to come over for pizza and video games even though they’ve already had dinners twice together this week and breakfast once.
Eddie agreed in a heartbeat. He loves seeing Buck with Theo and he knows Chris really enjoys getting to hang out with both Buck and Theo.
Buck waited until Eddie was distracted talking to Chimney before dry swallowing two Tylenol from the bottle in his locker.
The pills scraped unpleasantly down his throat.
“Jesus,” Hen said behind him.
Buck jumped.
“You trying to choke to death?”
“I forgot water.”
“You also forgot basic survival instincts.”
“Debatable.”
Hen eyed him.
“You sick?”
“Nope.”
“Tired?”
“Yes.”
“Migraine?”
Buck froze for half a second too long.
Hen sighed knowingly.
“Buck.”
“It’s fine.”
“Mhm.”
“It is.”
“You look green.”
“I always look green.”
“You are aggressively white.”
Buck waved her off before she could continue interrogating him.
At the end of shift, Eddie headed out to pick Christopher up from school while Buck went to get Theo from daycare.
Theo launched himself at Buck the second he appeared.
“Daddy!”
“Oof— hey buddy—”
Theo wrapped himself around Buck like an octopus.
“Missed you.”
Buck’s chest ached instantly.
“Missed you too.”
Theo pulled back enough to examine him suspiciously.
“You tired?”
Buck blinked.
“…what?”
“You got sleepy eyes.”
Children were terrifying.
“I’m okay,” Buck promised.
Theo accepted this immediately because four-year-olds were trusting like that.
Buck wished adults were.
The pizza place smelled overwhelmingly strong when Buck stopped to pick up dinner.
Cheese. Grease. Garlic.
Normally delicious.
Tonight it turned Buck’s stomach unpleasantly.
He swallowed hard and focused on breathing through his mouth while Theo enthusiastically narrated everything he’d done at daycare.
“And then Mason put glue in his hair.”
“Oh no.”
“And then Miss Kelly said bad words.”
Buck laughed despite himself.
“What kind of bad words?”
Theo leaned forward dramatically.
“She said goddammit.”
Buck choked.
The cashier burst out laughing.
By the time they got home, Buck’s head was pounding hard enough to blur the edges of his vision.
But Eddie and Chris were coming over.
That was good.
Helpful.
Normal.
Buck could survive one evening.
Probably.
He just needed to make it through dinner.
Then bedtime.
Then he could collapse.
Easy.
Totally manageable.
The doorbell rang.
Theo screamed, “CHRIS!” and sprinted for the door with all the grace of a caffeinated golden retriever.
Buck opened it to chaos immediately.
Christopher grinned.
Theo tackled him in excitement.
Eddie walked in carrying drinks and looking unfairly good in a dark blue t-shirt.
Buck’s stupid exhausted brain immediately supplied: domestic.
Which was unhelpful.
“Hey,” Eddie said.
“Hey.”
“You look—”
Buck pointed warningly.
“Don’t.”
Eddie grinned.
“So worse than earlier.”
Buck rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let them in.
“Pizza’s in the kitchen.”
“Awesome,” Chris said.
Theo immediately grabbed Chris’s wrist.
“Come see my dinosaurs!”
Chris laughed. “Okay!”
They disappeared down the hallway at dangerous speed.
Eddie watched them go with fond exasperation.
“They’re gonna destroy something.”
“Probably.”
“You sound resigned.”
“I’m choosing peace.”
Eddie snorted softly.
Buck smiled automatically.
Then immediately regretted it when the movement sent another pulse of agony through his skull.
He looked away quickly.
“Beer?” he asked.
“You okay?”
“I’m getting beer.”
“Buck.”
“I’m fine.”
Eddie gave him a look but thankfully let it go.
For now.
Buck made it through approximately half a slice of pizza before nausea rolled hard through his stomach.
He set the food down carefully.
“You barely ate,” Eddie noted.
“Big lunch.”
“You had three protein bars.”
Buck stared.
“How do you know that?”
“I have eyes.”
“That’s invasive.”
“You literally waved one around complaining it tasted like chalk.”
“Oh.”
Chris and Theo were currently engaged in an extremely serious debate about whether Batman could defeat a dinosaur.
Theo firmly believed Batman would win because “he has gadgets.”
Chris argued dinosaurs were too big.
Buck leaned back on the couch trying not to let the TV light stab directly into his retinas.
Theo climbed onto the cushions.
“Daddy, who wins?”
Buck closed one eye.
“…depends on the dinosaur.”
“See?” Chris said triumphantly.
Theo gasped in betrayal.
“You’re supposed to pick Batman!”
“Batman’s just a guy with money, buddy.”
“That’s still a superpower.”
Eddie barked out a laugh.
Buck smiled faintly.
Then nausea surged again.
He stood abruptly.
“Bathroom.”
Nobody questioned it.
Buck made it halfway before vomiting violently into the toilet.
Pain exploded behind his eyes.
God.
Migraines were evil.
He knelt there breathing shakily for several seconds after the nausea passed.
The bathroom light hurt.
Everything hurt.
He rinsed his mouth, splashed water on his face, and stared at himself in the mirror.
He looked terrible.
Pale.
Sweaty.
Exhausted.
Buck pressed cold fingers against his temple.
Just survive bedtime.
That was all he had to do.
Then Eddie and Chris would leave.
Then he could take medication and pass out.
Easy.
When he returned, Theo and Chris had apparently constructed a blanket fort.
Eddie was helping stabilize one side.
“How long was I gone?”
Eddie glanced over.
“Like ten minutes.”
“Huh.”
“You okay?”
“Yep.”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Buck immediately sat down and pretended intense interest in fort architecture.
Another twenty minutes passed.
Then another.
Buck disappeared to the bathroom twice more.
The second time, Eddie frowned after him.
“That’s weird,” Eddie muttered.
“What?” Chris asked.
“Buck’s acting strange.”
Theo popped out from the fort.
“Daddy’s tired.”
Eddie softened slightly.
“Yeah?”
Theo nodded seriously.
“He has sleepy eyes.”
Eddie looked toward the hallway again.
Concern flickered briefly across his face.
But then Theo demanded he come judge whether the fort needed more blankets, and the moment passed.
By seven o’clock, Buck felt like death.
Every sound echoed painfully.
Theo and Chris were somehow more energetic now.
“How are children powered?” Buck muttered.
“Black magic,” Eddie answered immediately.
Buck laughed weakly.
Then the room tilted unpleasantly.
He stood.
“Be right back.”
This vomiting trip lasted longer.
Buck gripped the toilet hard enough for his knuckles to whiten.
His stomach was empty now.
Only painful dry heaves remained.
By the time he finished, his entire body ached.
He rinsed his mouth again.
Looked toward the hallway.
He could hear Theo laughing.
Chris shouting something about dragons.
Eddie laughing too.
Warm domestic sounds.
Safe sounds.
Buck’s exhausted brain whispered something dangerous and longing.
Bed.
He swallowed hard.
Then stumbled into his bedroom just intending to sit down for one minute.
Just one.
The darkness helped instantly.
Cool sheets.
Quiet.
No lights.
Buck exhaled shakily and closed his eyes.
The next thing he knew—
“DADDDDDYYYYYY!”
Pain detonated behind his eyes.
Buck jerked awake violently as bright light flooded the room.
Theo launched onto the mattress like a missile.
Christopher climbed up laughing.
The bed bounced.
The room spun viciously.
“Oh my God,” Buck gasped.
“Rise and shine!” Eddie laughed from the doorway. “Dad up, Buckley.”
Theo bounced harder.
“Wake up wake up wake up—”
The migraine crashed over Buck all at once.
Light.
Movement.
Noise.
Nausea.
Buck made a horrible strangled sound before scrambling blindly off the bed.
“Buck?” Eddie said, laughter fading.
Buck barely made the bathroom before vomiting violently again.
Behind him, silence fell.
Then:
“Oh shit.”
And that was Eddie sounding genuinely scared.