Chapter Text
The sound that wakes Buck isn’t the alarm.
It’s softer at first, muffled by blankets and half-swallowed like someone’s trying not to be loud.
Then it’s followed by a cough — low, chesty, and more than a little rough — and Buck’s eyes snap open before his brain is even fully awake.
The red digits on the clock tell him it’s not even 6 a.m. yet, which means they’ve got at least another thirty minutes before the day officially starts.
But Eddie’s still coughing, the kind of cough that shakes his whole frame, and Buck is already rolling onto his side.
“Eds?” His voice comes out thick with sleep, but the concern is immediate.
“You okay?”
Eddie’s curled on his side facing away from him, blanket pulled high over his shoulder. There’s a crumpled tissue lying on top of the covers near his hand, and Buck’s pretty sure there’s another one hidden underneath.
When Eddie glances back, his eyes are a little glassy, the rims faintly red, and his nose… well, it’s been through some use already this morning.
“Sorry,” Eddie rasps, voice rough and congested. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Buck shakes his head, already scooting closer until he can press a hand to Eddie’s forehead.
Warm.
Too warm.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
Eddie tries to play it off with a shrug. “Just a cold. I’ll be fine once I get up.”
“Uh-huh,” Buck says, unconvinced. “When did the cough start?”
Eddie’s sheepish expression tells him everything before he even answers. “Around two.”
Buck sighs, leaning over to the nightstand to fish the thermometer out of the drawer.
He clicks it on, then holds it out with a pointed look.
“Open.”
Eddie groans but obeys.
Thirty seconds later, the little beep confirms what Buck already knew from the touch of his skin.
100°F
“That’s it,” Buck says, no room for debate in his tone. “You’re calling in sick.”
Eddie makes a face. “We’ve got a 24 today.”
“And you’ve got a fever,” Buck counters easily. “Plus a cough and a nose that could probably guide Santa’s sleigh.”
That earns him a snort — muffled by congestion but amused all the same.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Buck says, leaning down to kiss his hair, “but I’m also right.”
Eddie lets out a long-suffering sigh but reaches for his phone anyway.
Buck listens while he leaves a hoarse voicemail for Bobby, then watches him drop the phone back on the nightstand.
“Happy?” Eddie mutters.
“Not until you’re tucked in and resting,” Buck says. “And I’m making breakfast. You want oatmeal?”
“Don’t fuss,” Eddie tries, but Buck’s already sliding out of bed.
Chris is still asleep when Buck pads down the hall, so Buck ducks into his room first. “Hey, buddy,” he says gently, giving the mattress a little bounce.
“Time to get up.”
Chris groans and tries to burrow deeper under the blanket.
“Pancakes,” Buck says.
That gets one eye open.
By the time Chris is dressed and brushing his teeth, Buck’s already got the coffee machine humming and two pans heating on the stove — one for oatmeal, one for pancakes.
He stirs honey into the milk before adding the oats, glancing over just in time to see Chris climb onto the stool at the counter.
“You can be in charge of the chocolate chips,” Buck tells him, sliding the bag across the counter.
Chris grins. “You always let me put too many.”
Buck grins back. “That’s because I’m the fun one.”
Chris snickers and promptly dumps a generous handful into the batter.
By the time the oatmeal is done, the pancakes are stacked, and the coffee is poured, Buck’s got a tray ready to take upstairs.
Oatmeal, a steaming mug of honey-lemon tea, a glass of water, and a fresh box of lotion-infused tissues.
He adds in the bottle of DayQuil and Eddie’s favorite cherry cough drops before carefully balancing everything in his arms.
Eddie hasn’t moved much since Buck left the room — still curled against the pillows, eyes half-lidded.
He looks up when Buck comes in.
“Room service?” Eddie’s voice is low and hoarse.
“Only for the very sick and very handsome,” Buck says, setting the tray on the nightstand and helping him sit up.
Eddie lets Buck fuss, propping pillows behind his back, tucking the blanket over his legs.
He eats slowly but finishes most of the oatmeal, washes down the DayQuil, and sips at the tea.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, eyes soft.
“You’re welcome.” Buck smooths a hand over his hair. “I’m gonna get Chris to school and head in. Carla’s still taking him after, so you don’t have to worry about anything. Just rest.”
Eddie huffs. “You really don’t need to—”
“I do,” Buck says firmly. “I want you to have everything you need today.”
For a moment, Eddie just watches him, and Buck can see the faint smile tugging at his mouth despite how lousy he feels.
Once Chris is bundled into the car, they make quick work of the school drop-off.
The ride is filled with Chris telling him about a science project, and Buck finds himself smiling the whole way — it’s a nice counterpoint to the quiet worry sitting in the back of his mind about Eddie.
When he finally pulls into the station, the lot is half-empty.
He can already tell they’re short-staffed.
He grabs his bag from the passenger seat, glances once at his phone — no new messages from Eddie — and exhales.
One last text before he goes in:
Love you.
Rest.
I’ll check in when I can.
Then Buck pushes open the station door and heads inside.