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Buck had been coming home late for weeks now. On top of that, he’s been disappearing during odd hours of the day. On days off, where he would normally hang out with Eddie, he’s just… gone.
Combine that with the fact that he’s spent every night out of the house, sometimes not coming home until like four in the morning (not that Eddie is keeping track), something was up.
At first, Eddie thought to ask him where he was, but things felt precarious enough already that he didn’t want to push. He figured maybe he was just at Maddie’s, or maybe Hen’s (though neither of them ever mentioned spending time with Buck).
He hoped that was the case at least because it meant Buck was talking to someone. Even if that person wasn’t him.
Plus, it wasn’t like they were… there was no reason Eddie needed to know his every move. If Buck wanted to stay out late a few nights, that was his prerogative.
In the mornings, he would do a quick scan of Buck. He tried to be discreet, hiding his wandering eyes behind his cup of coffee. Eddie honestly had no idea what exactly he was looking for, but it made him feel better, made him feel like he was doing something.
When he would find nothing out of the ordinary, he’d let the anxious feeling in his body settle, and continue on with his day. Buck never offered an explanation, and Eddie never pushed for one. It was a good system.
It also helped that not speaking about anything real had become their new normal.
Ever since he came back from Texas. Ever since Bobby died. Their communication was stilted, shallow. They would talk about their days, talk about Chris’ schedule and how it worked with their work schedule. They would discuss what they wanted for dinner and what was going on with their family and friends.
It was the type of conversation you would expect from acquaintances. Not from… well whatever he and Buck were.
It frustrated Eddie to no end and he wanted nothing more than to take a sledgehammer to the stupid wall Buck has built around himself, but he can’t. Every time he opens his mouth to try and beg for more, he finds himself back in the kitchen, poorly held back tears breaking through, while Buck goes deeper and deeper into himself.
All this to say, Eddie is doing his best to accept their new normal. And he was doing a damn good job. Until Buck’s late nights turned into unexplained absences during the day. Turned into small bruises and cuts that he thinks Eddie doesn’t notice. Small winces at work, poorly hidden groans and excessive yawns.
Of course, that's when Eddie started to spiral a little bit.
His first insane thought was that Buck was doing the same thing Eddie had done all those years ago. He’s joined some underground fight club. That’s where he was every night, in some sweaty ring letting people beat on him.
This train of thought ended rather quickly after Eddie gave it more than two seconds of life because well, it was Buck. He didn’t have that sort of anger in him, Eddie knew that. No matter how bad he was hurting, he was more likely to throw himself into danger on the job than go and hurt another person.
So then where was it all coming from? What could he possibly be doing that led to him coming home like this? And why the fuck would he not just talk to Eddie about it?
The pattern continues. Buck doesn’t come home. Eddie goes to sleep in an empty bed. He wakes to a battered Buck. They don’t speak. Rinse and repeat.
Eddie knew it would come to a head eventually, could feel the frustration bubbling under his skin, the tension in the house growing and growing with each passing day. So, he decides to just speed up the process, do something he’s sure Buck wouldn’t expect after so many weeks of the same thing.
He waits up, fights every urge to sleep. Just sits on his still made bed, and waits. Buck will come home at some point, he always does. And this time, he was going to have to actually talk to Eddie. Talk to him about something fucking real.
He waits and listens. He fiddles with his hands, running through the conversation he planned on having with Buck in his head. He’d ask where he’d been, ask if he was okay. He wouldn’t let Buck leave until he got an answer. That should work.
A few hours pass like this before he finally hears the front door squeak open. It’s time. No more of this sneaking around, no more of these unexplained late nights. Buck’s isolated himself for long enough, he was going to face Eddie and he was going to tell him the fucking truth.
He storms out of his bedroom and down the hallway, feeling anger swirl around his insides, like an old friend showing up for a surprise visit. It’s been so long. It’s great to see you again. He tries to breathe, slow his walk down a little. He wasn’t an angry man, not anymore.
He was a scared one.
Eddie turns the corner, stepping into the room just as he hears the front door click shut. He’s ready to speak, to figure this out, and he’s going—
“Buck, holy shit.”
Eddie comes to an immediate stop, every bit of fight draining out of him completely. He takes in the sight in front of him with increasing horror, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.
Standing at the front door was Buck, curled in on himself and covered in blood. A light layer of sweat covered his face and his breathing was labored. His movements were shaky, his hand clutching a backpack tightly.
Buck whips his head up, eyes wide. He definitely wasn’t expecting Eddie to be awake. That only worsens the feeling in Eddie’s stomach, the pit growing and growing.
“What the fuck happened?” Eddie asks, stepping closer to Buck who was still frozen by the door.
He doesn’t respond, though Eddie doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick back towards the door, like he was trying to decide if he still had time to bolt. That was Eddie’s move, running. He wasn’t going to let Buck just steal it. Especially when Eddie was pretty sure the chances of him dropping dead about halfway down the street were high.
“Buck,” Eddie calls again, panic lacing his words, “what happened?” Another step forward, Buck another step back.
“Nothing, Eddie, just go to sleep,” Buck mumbles, looking anywhere but at him.
Stubborn. Till his dying breath.
“Look at me,” Eddie sounds desperate, and maybe he is, “what. Happened?” He means to sound stern. He means to make Buck listen to him. He misses by a mile though. There is terror in his voice. Fear.
They’ve both been closed off for months, that wasn’t a secret, but he thinks maybe they’ve reached a point neither ever expected. Is the time to open up when you come home covered in blood and refuse to explain why? Is that the moment you lay down your flag and call it quits.
Buck looks up at him with bloodshot, terrified eyes. “I’m fine, okay? This,” he waves around at his body with his free hand, “is no big deal. You can go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Eddie feels his jaw tighten. “I’m not going back to bed, Buck,” he says through gritted teeth, “not until you tell me what’s been going on with you.”
“What’s been going on with me?” Buck tilts his head, eyes flaring with… something. He was unreadable in a way that made Eddie’s stomach turn.
He continues on, though. He didn’t wait up just to let Buck get away with whatever this is.
“Coming home late, disappearing during the day,” he begins to list off, “unexplained injuries, the fucking blood all over you right now.” He ends with his arms waving out in front of him like a madman.
Buck has it in him to look a little guilty at least, and shocked. Like he didn’t expect Eddie to pay that much attention to him, which is crazy. Where has this guy been the last eight years? Eddie does nothing but pay attention to him. He couldn’t stop if he tried.
“Look, I know you don’t owe me anything,” Eddie’s voice lowers, “but please, Buck. I’m worried. Just, if you’re in some kind of trouble or something… you can talk to me. Please. Talk to me.”
Buck visibly softens. “I’m okay, Eddie. I promise. I’m not in trouble, I just can’t tell you about this.”
That stumps him. Something going on in Buck’s life that he can’t tell him about? No, that didn’t sound right. They told each other everything, Buck more than Eddie but still. That was the deal. That’s what came with being best friends. Or so he thought, because here was Buck, denying Eddie information.
“Sorry bud,” Eddie tries, “but you lost the right to keep things from me when you showed up with blood on you.”
It’s a flimsy argument, but he’s trying it. He can’t let Buck just suffer in silence, put some bandaids on and call it a night. He can’t let him walk out of this room. There’s a pit in his stomach that’s telling him if he walks out of this room right now, something bad will happen.
Buck seems to consider something, studying Eddie with a closeness he wasn’t used to. Whatever he’s looking for, Eddie’s not sure he finds, but he takes a deep breath in before releasing it, shoulders slumping.
“You won’t believe me,” is Buck’s quiet response.
“Believe you? Buck you can tell me anything and I’ll accept it, no question.” That was the truth. He isn’t here to judge Buck or wonder if he’s telling the truth. He’s here to make sure he’s okay. He says exactly that.
“Can you please just drop this?” Buck begs, and god does it hurt.
“No,” Eddie replies softly.
He stares at Eddie. Eddie stares back. They are playing chicken with no possibility of a winner.
“Okay, just… have an open mind, yeah?” Buck asks, before turning to dig in the backpack he was holding.
His hand pulls out a few seconds later clutching a red and blue material. He holds it up to Eddie like it was meant to explain everything.
“What am I looking at here?” Eddie asks, confused why they were focusing on a piece of fabric when Buck was injured. How was this supposed to explain the blood?
“It’s a mask,” Buck says like that clears things up.
“A mask,” Eddie echoes, still not quite getting it.
“A s–spider-man mask,” Buck stutters, looking increasingly more and more nervous.
“You bought a spider-man mask?” Eddie tilts his head, growing frustrated, “Buck how does this explain the blo–”
“I didn’t buy a spider-man mask, Eds,” Buck interrupts, “I made it. This is mine.”
Eddie fights really hard not to roll his eyes, “okay you made it. I’m still not getting it.”
Buck lets out a frustrated grunt like Eddie's the one being difficult here. He’d argue the difficult one is the one holding the mask and refusing to give a complete explanation, but hey to each their own.
“Eddie. I made it. It’s the first one. Mine. I’m,” and here he visibly hesitates, swallowing hard. “I’m spider-man.”
Eddie had seen the news clips, the videos Chris showed him on TikTok. Some guy, dressed in a blue and red suit, fucking swinging around the streets of LA. Since Eddie wasn’t the type to put a lot of stock in the impossible, he ignored anything to do with this guy.
Now, Buck was forcing him to challenge everything he knew. It feels like Buck has been doing exactly that since he walked into his life 8 years ago, all pouty lips and excessive posturing.
“You’re spider-man?” Eddie asks, sure he’s misheard.
“Yes,” Buck nods his head, still holding the mask out in front of him like a kid presenting at show and tell. There’s still a slight shake to his hand.
“You’re telling me all these nights you’ve been out late is because you’re… what? Sling shotting around the city?” Eddie asks, his tone disbelieving.
“Well, helping people,” Buck corrects, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, “and a bit of sling-shotting.” He lets out a weak laugh. Eddie can’t return it.
Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand on his forehead. “Okay Buck. You’re spider-man, and I’m… something equally ridiculous.”
“Eddie. Dude. I am spider-man,” Buck says, taking a step closer. That distance between them was growing smaller and smaller. What happens when they run out of room?
“Prove it.” Eddie juts his chin out.
Buck waves a hand toward the mask he was still clutching, like that was enough, like you couldn’t buy one at any halloween store.
“That proves nothing,” Eddie says.
“Okay, um,” Buck looks around before holding a hand out and shooting a web right onto Eddie’s wall.
Eddie follows the movement with wide eyes, his brain already trying hard to come up with a way that Buck could do that without being spider-man. He was really struggling to do so, considering he can see that there is nothing wrapped around Buck’s wrist. Eddie looks between Buck’s arm and the wall, back and forth. Back and forth.
Okay, that proves something.
Now his brain was recalibrating, taking everything he knew about Buck, about the guy whos been attached to his side for 8 years, and jumbling it up. How did he miss this?
“Will you let me go to sleep now?” Buck sighs, already moving towards the hallway.
Eddie rushes to jump in his way, stopping him from running away. “No,” Eddie tries to sound firm, but his brain is still a few seconds behind due to the fact that his best friend is a superhero, “you’re still covered in blood. Let me clean you up.”
When Buck doesn’t respond, Eddie gives his best pleading eyes (he is well aware how to win Buck over) and says please.
Finally, Buck relents, all the fight draining out of his body. He sighs, walking towards the couch and throwing himself down on it.
“Stay there,” Eddie holds a hand out like Buck was something to be calmed down, “I’m gonna grab the first aid kit.”
Buck doesn’t respond, just lets out another sigh and sinks deeper into the couch. Eddie decides he doesn’t seem like much of a flight risk right now, so he turns and hurries to the bathroom to dig the first aid kit out.
He finds it under the sink, more to the front then he remembers. Buck must’ve been using it himself, the nights he came home and Eddie wasn’t awake to see the state he came back in. If his stomach twists anymore, he’s sure he’ll start throwing up. He swallows hard, trying to shake the sick feeling away.
He grabs the kit and rushes back to the living room, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he sees Buck still sitting on the couch. He knew he wouldn’t run, but maybe that was information that was true about Buck months ago. Maybe that was a Buck before everything went wrong and he went quiet.
Eddie sits down on the coffee table so he’s directly opposite Buck, placing the first aid kit down next to him and popping it open. Supplies in it were low, he’ll have to remember to restock it after this.
“Okay,” he breathes, lightly clapping his hands together, “show me where you’re hurt.”
Buck gives Eddie a frustrated look, almost like a toddler who is about to throw a tantrum for not getting his ways. Eddie just stares back, trying his best to maintain a “no bullshit” attitude.
“Sooner you show me, sooner this is all over,” Eddie reminds him.
Buck grunts, honest to god grunts, but he does finally relent. His shaky hands reach down to the hem of his shirt and start to pull up, up, up until he’s sitting in Eddie’s living room shirtless. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about that because he’s too focused on the sheer amount of blood covering Buck’s skin.
“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps, his mouth dropping, “Buck how have you been walking around like this?”
“It’s nothing I,” Buck whispers, “I heal quickly, okay? There’s no wound, not anymore.”
Eddie doesn’t believe him, but he can’t actually see a source for the blood. His brain just can’t compute, it’s too much information all at once and he’s struggling to put aside his disbelief.
Not only was his best friend spider-man apparently, but that means he comes equipped with super healing powers? He thinks that maybe he’s gone into a state of shock. All he can do is stare at the expanse of skin and feel his heart pound heavier and heavier.
What if he didn’t heal? What if someone got him good enough that he didn’t have the chance? What if someone took Buck away from him, and Eddie wouldn’t know until it was too late? So many what if’s staring him down, begging him to do something.
“Eddie?” Buck calls, and he sounds so concerned for someone who should technically be on the brink of death that it snaps Eddie back into himself.
“Sorry,” his voice sounds gravely, “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
Before Buck can respond, Eddie is digging through the kit and pulling out an antiseptic wipe, ripping it open and heading straight for Buck’s chest. He leans forward and starts to wipe at the blood, treating Buck’s skin like it was made of glass. No pressure, no scrubbing, just light wipes to uncover his pale skin.
With each sliver of skin that is revealed, Eddie finds himself spiraling more and more. One wipe covered, open another one, feel sick at the sheer amount of blood. Another tossed wipe, another bone deep fear that one day, Buck won’t come home to him.
It’s too much. Eddie, who hasn’t broken down in front of a person, not in a long time, not since their fight in the kitchen, feels himself getting choked up. Tears spring to his eyes without warning and without permission.
He can swallow them, hide from this feeling. Or, he can take a leap. He can hand his heart to Buck, the same way, he thinks, that he has been doing for years. Since the moment he met him.
He leaps.
“I need you to be safe out there,” Eddie whispers while gently wiping the blood away. He’s finally unveiled the source of the blood. A long, angry red mark, a cut that had been there before but was virtually gone by now. It looked like he got it a week ago. If not for the blood, Eddie wouldn’t have believed it happened tonight.
He tosses the wipe he was using to the side, reaching for a new one. He stares at the bright white of it, soon to be stained by his best friend's blood. He swallows, hard. “Please, Buck, promise you’ll be safe out there.” His voice cracks, tears building in his eyes.
“I promise, Eddie,” Buck whispers back. “Tonight was… it was just a bad night,” he says, waving a hand around like it was nothing. Like it was normal.
Eddie sighs, “what happens when you have a worse night, hm? What happens if you don’t,” he gestures towards the healed cuts, “heal quick enough? Or heal at all?”
“That hasn’t happened,” Buck holds his hands out in front of, “it won’t happen.”
“But it could,” Eddie does not snap, but it's a damn near thing, “people die everyday, Buck.”
This was the closest they’ve come to talking about Bobby since the kitchen all those months ago. Death is not a topic they broach anymore, better to avoid it entirely. But Buck has always had a death wish, one that Eddie has been keeping a close eye on ever since the lab incident.
He thought he was doing okay in that regard. He had been keeping himself in check at work, no unnecessary risks or anything he used to, but evidently Eddie’s watchful eye had failed him. Buck was out of his line of sight too much, and he was throwing himself head first into danger every day.
“I’ll be okay,” Buck gives him a sad sort of smile.
Eddie bursts at the seams. “But I won’t be! Don’t you get that? I need you. I need you safe and alive.” He’s pleading, hoping even a single word can get through Buck’s thick skull.
He’s not sure how Buck got these powers, he’s not sure what it means for them, but one thing he’s always been sure of is he needs Buck. Needs him like he needs air or water or food. If Buck were to… if anything were to happen to him, Eddie is sure he would follow him into the grave.
“You think you’re the only one who feels that way?” Buck almost sounds… angry. “Why do you think I’m out there everyday, stopping the bad things? Why? Every. Single. Thing. I stop is a thing that won’t reach you, or Chris.” His face is turning red, and he has this sharp focus in his eye.
“So why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie yells back.
“Because we aren’t us!” Is Buck’s painful, awful response.
“Buck,” Eddie sinks. All the fight is gone. “We’re always us, even if we aren’t acting like we used to.”
“Are we?”
Eddie drops the wipes he was still holding and reaches out without thinking, grabbing hold of Buck’s hand. “Yes,” he stresses, “believe me, Buck. Nothing is changing us. Nothing.”
He mindlessly rubs his thumbs along the skin of Buck’s hands. It feels right, having Buck in his hands. Feels safer, like he can’t go far. Buck is here, he’s safe, he’s in Eddie’s hands. Nothing can happen to him.
“Eddie?” Buck questions, forcing Eddie to realize he’s been zoning out, staring at his hands of all things. Their hands, clasped together.
He clears his throat, shaking his head. He doesn’t let go, though. He’s never letting go.
“Just promise me, okay? Promise you’ll come home to me,” he begs, looking into Buck’s eyes. There is something in there, a future he’s trying to be brave enough to grab.
“I promise, Eddie, I promise,” Buck whispers, bringing their clasped hands up to his mouth and laying a gentle kiss on the back of Eddie’s hand.
His entire body heats up immediately. The small kiss travels from his skin to his blood to his heart. His entire body at that moment exists purely for Evan Buckley. Spider-man. His best friend.
“Buck…” Eddie trails off and Buck looks back up at him, hope in his eyes.
They don’t speak, but this time it doesn’t feel so suffocating. It feels right, to say nothing. This moment, it’s big.
Eddie leans in first, take that cowardice. Buck meets him somewhere halfway. A soft, gentle touch of lips. Home. No one makes it dirty, asks for more. They just exist in this connection. It’s sweet. Safe. The most he’s understood Buck in months.
It barely crosses Eddie’s mind that he’s still shirtless. All he’s focused on is the feeling of Buck’s lips against his. They move with each other. Eddie’s hand comes up to grip the side of Buck’s neck and Buck’s hand lands on his waist. They are in sync again. They are BuckandEddie.
They break apart, much to Eddie’s disappointment. No sound except their heavy breathes, like they had run a mile or actually engaged in some heavy makeout session. Eddie feels like he did. He honestly feels like that kiss alone transferred some of Buck’s powers to Eddie, like he could lift a car or a building.
“You’ll come home to me?” Eddie breaks the silence.
“I’ll come home to you,” Buck promises, before diving back in for another kiss.