Archive of Our Own

They are in Buck’s backyard, and the midday sun is white and harsh against the cerulean sky. The air shimmers with excess humidity burning off the stone. There’s a scatter of toys in the grass, a kiddy pool in the corner, and the laughter of a toddler experiencing the world for the first time ringing loud and true through the space.

Eddie takes a pull of his beer and leans his head back against the chair. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are burning, and he’s not sure whether it’s from the heat of the LA summer or from the drink he’s been nursing for the better part of the hour, or from the image before his eyes.

Buck has Theo in his arms, spinning and spinning and spinning in place until they both get dizzy with it. They are laughing, this bubbly, infectious sound, two sets of blue eyes sparking with delight and mischief and childlike joy. Buck carefully lowers Theo back down after a moment, swaying slightly on his feet as he does. He bends down and his white top stretches across his broad shoulders, sheer with sweat, and for once Eddie doesn’t stop himself from noticing. From appreciating the way the fabric clings to his body in all the right places. Lets his eyes linger, taking in every curve, every twitch of muscle under skin.

Theo takes off across the yard like a missile right as his feet reach the ground – straight through the back door and into the house, his bare feet pat-pat-pattering on the floor, his giggles trailing behind him like wind chimes. Buck rolls his eyes fondly in Eddie’s direction. He always does that – shares the moment, makes sure Eddie is in on whatever is happening too – and then follows Theo inside. 

Eddie watches the door settle shut behind them.

“Guess that’s just how he is.”

Eddie blinks, pulled out of his thoughts, and lets his head roll to the other side. Christopher’s eyes are fixed on the colorful minefield of sand toys across the grass. He pushes his glasses up his nose with a knuckle.

“What do you mean?”

Chris shrugs with one shoulder. “I always figured there must’ve been something special about me that made Buck want to – hang out with me. Stick around. But I guess that was just Buck being Buck.”

“Hey, he loves you –”

“No, I know.” Chris smiles. “I just – feel like he’d love the whole world, if the world would just let him.”

Eddie picks at the label of his bottle with his fingernail, giving Chris space.

He shrugs again, reaching for his glass. It leaves a crescent of condensation on the table. “Good thing we let him, right?”

Eddie just hums and takes another swig. 

The door swings open then and Theo crawls into Eddie’s lap – Eddie barely manages to get the beer bottle out of the way. He has a book tucked under his arm, Dragons Love Tacos, slightly waterlogged at the corners from an earlier encounter with the kiddy pool.

“Teddy, read,” he says, pointing at the page they left off at the day before.

Eddie breathes out an amused laugh, but reads. Makes the voices, the silly faces, successfully pulling a chain reaction of giggles out of both the toddler and the teenager beside him.

After a moment Buck joins them. He pulls the third chair closer and drops into it, and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his face grows unbearably soft and fond in his periphery at the sight of Theo cozying into his side, small hands fisting into his shirt as Eddie turns another page.

He thinks about Chris’ words through the rest of the book, the lunch, the afternoon nap, and all the way home.

And doesn’t stop thinking about them as they walk into a burning building the next day.

It’s a routine call, an apartment building engulfed in flames, a steady stream of residents making their way toward the ambulances as the 118 pulls up.

Three other houses are on scene, and it’s still not enough hands. Buck watches two medics carry out a woman with burns all over her hands and shins as Chimney goes into details about the plan. None of them are particularly nervous – it’s a routine call, something they’ve done a thousand times before, but there’s a heavy feeling sitting on his chest Buck can’t quite shake.

Eddie’s shoulder bumps his as they hike the smoke-filled stairs to the assigned floor. Buck can hear his breathing – rasp short bursts of air filtering through the mask.

“We’re still on for tomorrow?”

Buck returns the gesture, lets his turnouts brush over Eddie’s elbow, then nods. “Yeah. I mean, if you guys have other plans, I – it’s okay –”

“What? No,” Eddie huffs, glancing at Buck sideways. “No, I was just – do you need us to pick up something from the store? Drinks?”

“No, no, I’ve got it covered.” Buck’s not sure if the warmth in his face is the result of the heat of the fire beneath their feet or the blush spreading down past his jawline. “All you gotta bring is – you. A-a-and Chris.”

He chances his own quick look at Eddie – his eyes are bright as he looks back, the creases in the corners betraying a smile lurking behind the mask. As always, Buck is minutely caught off guard by that look. He’s never gotten used to the way Eddie sometimes looks at him. It makes his heart do all those weird things inside his chest – somersault, or trip and tumble, or soar. He still doesn’t really know what to do with it after all these years.

“Guys, focus,” Chimney snaps, and Buck realizes they’ve made another flight of stairs without taking their eyes off each other.

They reach the top of the building just as the voices on the open line start clearing floor after floor, confirming no casualties. The fire has been slow, eating through the wiring and drywall gradually, so most of the residents aside from the few unfortunate ones close to the epicenter were able to get out before it got too bad.

They knock on doors. Call out, with no answer. Sweep a few apartments that’ve been left unlocked.

“Command, this is 118.” Chimney’s voice is even as he relays, maybe a little hoarse. “Sweep on the assigned floor is complete, no residents located. We’re coming out – where do you want us next?”

A beat of static, then: “118, be advised, west stairwell is compromised. Find an alternate egress and report back.”

“Copy that.” Chim looks back at them. “Ideas?”

“There was a fire escape ladder,” Buck offers. “Window at the east side.”

Chim nods. “Yeah, that works.”

He starts toward the end of the hall, Buck and Eddie following a few steps behind him.

The hallway is different as they walk back in. The air got thicker, darker, smoke coiling lazily around their bodies as they move through it. It smells like burning insulation and something acidic underneath. The roar of fire has gotten closer.

Eddie sends a quick glance Buck’s way as they walk, which means he can feel it too.

Buck doesn’t think about the heaviness in his chest as he keeps his eyes on Eddie’s back, on the reflective strips of his turnouts. And he doesn’t think about the slight tremors under his feet, one after another, as they make it halfway through the hall.

Then something shifts. There’s a sudden explosion of voices over the radio, that Buck only half registers. Chim might be screaming something too, but he doesn’t make out the words.

The floor jumps under his feet, and then it’s gone, and in the breath of a moment between the two, all Buck has is one thought – a wish, really:

Please, for once let Eddie not be close enough.

And then there’s a fall, that lasts forever and just a blink at the same time, and then that is gone too.

His ears are ringing.

One moment he’s following Chim down the narrow hall, Buck trailing right behind them, their footsteps echoing off the charred walls – and the next, his ears are ringing.

It all happens so fast – like all life-changing things tend to, a blink and over with – that he doesn’t really register what went down, just the aftermath of it.

Eddie’s flat on his stomach, both arms folded underneath his body, sharp edges of drywall and plaster under his ribs making it hard to breathe.

He tries to push up, but there’s something digging into his lower back, pressing him from the waist down to the ground, and when he attempts to fight the weight the pain explodes through both his legs and up his spine. He drops back down, panting, swearing under his breath.

“Eddie?”

The voice is strained, and his heart plunges into his stomach at the sound of it.

It’s pitch dark. Even with a moment for his eyes to adjust, Eddie still can’t see anything. The ground bites into his palms as he works his hands free, one then the other, dragging them out from under his chest. Then reaches to where his helmet light should be, but his helmet is gone.

“Shit.” He pats blindly around himself in the direction the voice came from, fingers moving through rubble, until they find something that isn’t concrete or twisted metal.

“Hey – hey,” he grabs onto Buck’s shoulder at the full stretch of his arm and squeezes, hard. Buck responds with a shuddering breath that sounds like an almost-laugh, relief clear in it. “Thought I lost you for a second,” Eddie lets his hand slide up from Buck's shoulder to his neck, cheek, temple – his fingers graze the helmet, a few inches away from Eddie's face in the dark, still on Buck's head. Good. “Are you hurt?”

“What happened?”

Eddie huffs, his hand finding the switch of Buck’s helmet light.

“The floor went down. I’m not sure where we – hang on.”

He clicks the light on the same moment Buck asks: “Where’s Chim?”

Eddie opens his mouth – but the answer dies in his throat when he finally sees Buck.

He’s on his back, head toward Eddie. The lower half of his body is swallowed by ink-black shadow – but Eddie can see the rebar rising from his torso at an angle, dark and glistening in the poor light.

His hand falls back to Buck’s shoulder, but this time he doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there. His ears are still ringing.

“Buck –”

“You’re bleeding.” Buck’s hand comes up to Eddie’s face, reaching toward his temple. Eddie just keeps blinking, waiting for the image before him to rearrange itself into something different. “Are you hurt?”

Eddie ignores the numbness of his limbs, the high pitch in his ears that won’t subside, and forcefully fills his lungs with air in an attempt to calm himself down. Makes his eyes focus on Buck’s fingers instead of his stomach – which come back from Eddie’s face black with blood.

His own hand lifts to his head in a mirror movement – and sure enough, there’s a gash at his hairline. Eddie hisses as his fingers probe the wound.

“It’s – nothing, just a scrape,” he waves his slick fingers dismissively, inching closer to Buck – as close as the weight on his legs will allow. Which isn’t much; whatever holds him down doesn’t have much give. He remembers Buck’s question then. “Chim!” He calls out. Gives it a moment, blindly looking around, but it’s just black on black on black outside the small pocket of grey they inhabit, the ghostly outlines of collapsed walls and ceiling cutting through. “He was a few steps ahead of us, so he’s probably still up there.”

“Good.” Buck attempts a smile, but it comes out crooked. “Three’s a crowd, wouldn’t want him to, uh –”

He tries to lift his head then, probably to chance his own look around. The helmet light jerks, the cone of white shifting away.

“Don’t.” Eddie plants a hand firmly on Buck’s shoulder and pushes him back down, but not quick enough.

Buck winces, his hand instinctively flying toward his abdomen. “Eddie, there’s –”

“Hey, listen to me,” he wills his voice steady. “You gotta stay still, alright?”

“What is it? Let me – let me see.”

“Quit squirming,” Eddie snaps, and instantly hates how sharp his words come out. But he needs Buck for once to just do what he’s asking. “You have to stay down.”

Still fighting against Eddie’s hold, Buck must shift against the rebar, because a pained yelp tears out of him. As if to get away from it, acting on pure instinct, his back arches, feet pushing into the ground, the heels of his boots dislodging pieces of rubble underneath.

The angle is awkward with the way Eddie’s body is positioned, but he manages to grab Buck’s face in both palms and turns it toward himself. Buck’s eyes are wild – so wide, the black of his pupils completely overtaking the blue. He tries to suck in a breath, again and again, his chest heaving, his mouth gaping soundlessly.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Buck mutters, when he finally gets his voice back.

Eddie keeps holding his face, thumbing soothing crescents against his cheekbones. “Hey, hey.” He catches Buck’s eyes as they keep roaming the specks of plaster dust hovering above them, unseeing, blind with pain. “You’re good. Just – don’t move, don’t touch it – and you’re gonna be okay.”

“There’s –” Buck gasps, his hands grasping at Eddie’s wrists. “There’s something –”

“Yeah, I know. We’re gonna deal with it, okay? The team will be here in no time. You just gotta stay still and hang on till they do.”

Buck is nodding, but the movement is too sharp, his whole body jerking with it. Eddie tightens his hold on his face in order to stop him.

“I can’t really see the wound from up here, so you’ll have to help me with that,” he tries, knowing full well that victims on scenes respond better to having a task when the emotions are running high. “I need you to stay calm for me. I’ll angle the light – and I need you to look at it and tell me what you see.”

Buck is blinking too much, too fast. Must be the pain his body is suddenly aware of, or the shock beginning to settle in. Eddie lets one palm cradle his jaw, fingers pressing gently into the back of his skull, nails scraping lightly against it – giving something for his body to focus on that isn’t the piece of metal tearing through his insides. His other hand he places flat against Buck’s chest, right over his sternum, hoping to draw some of his attention there, to that point of contact and the breath beneath it.

“You think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck is still blinking, but he’s finally gone still under Eddie’s touch. He wets his lips. Looks at Eddie with his big, trusting eyes. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to take off your helmet now to take some weight off your neck, okay? I’ll need both my hands for it.”

Buck nods, and this time all movement stays contained above his shoulders.

“That’s it,” Eddie murmurs, as his fingers find the clasp under Buck’s chin and undo it. He transfers the helmet carefully onto his own head. “Now I need you to look down – slowly, we’re doing everything slowly, okay? – and keep your upper body as still as you can. Just tip your chin for me. Tell me what you see.”

Buck does as he’s told, his chin lowering to his chest. “I don’t – I don’t see – all I see is this stupid –” Buck groans and lets his head fall back to the ground where Eddie’s hand catches it.

“It’s okay,” Eddie’s fingers tangle in his curls, damp with sweat, massage the base of his skull lightly. “Let’s try again. I’ll lift you this time – try not to engage your core – just let me do the work. Tell me if anything shifts, yeah?”

He cups the back of Buck’s head and pushes up, slowly, just a few inches at first, angling the helmet light down at the wound. From Eddie’s perspective it’s still shielded by Buck’s ribs and the fabric of his uniform. “How’s that?”

“A little more,” Buck pants, working hard against the instinct to try and pull himself up with his muscles.

There’s a slight tremble running through him as Eddie keeps lifting – and Eddie hates what it tells him. He’s worked enough scenes to know without a direct line of sight at the wound things aren’t looking good if his body is already under so much stress.

“Yeah,” Buck’s voice changes then, goes quiet and flat, focused. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Describe it. No sugarcoating – I need to know exactly what we’re working with here.”

Eddie watches Buck’s shaking hands move toward his stomach.

“There’s so much blood,” he blurts, and Eddie notes just how scared his voice sounds. He’s heard Buck’s voice get that particular tint just a handful of times since they’ve known each other, and he’s hated it every time.

Buck works at his turnouts, tearing apart what’s left of the shirt underneath. Sucks a sharp breath in through his clenched teeth, trying to steady them.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie murmurs, words coming on reflex. “Doing really good, bud.”

“It’s – I think it goes straight through – it’s my right side, maybe a few inches from my navel.”

“Okay,” Eddie keeps his voice even, making sure not to go too deep into his first responder’s cadence. It’s a fine line to walk when the victim knows every trick in the book by heart. “What does the blood look like – is it dark or is it bright red?”

“Dark. It’s – dark. Almost black.”

Good, Eddie nods to himself. Allows himself a small relief. “Is it pooling steady or is it coming in pulses?”

“Steady, I think. It’s hard to –” Buck exhales carefully, watching whatever he sees there. “Yeah. Steady.” He loses the fight against a wince and a groan that slips into an almost-sob. “Eddie, I – I – I can’t –”

Eddie helps him lower his head back to the ground, slowly. “All that is really good news, means nothing major is hit. So we are not touching it, okay? And we are not moving. Not until the team gets here with the equipment to do this right.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay.”

“We have to let them know to hurry though.”

Eddie gives Buck’s shoulder a quick squeeze and reluctantly retreats his hand, searching for his radio. It’s not attached to his turnouts anymore – must have gotten knocked off in the fall, along with the helmet.

“Shit.” The light beam dances around the heap of rubble they landed on as he glances around. Nothing but ragged edges of concrete and glimmer of shattered glass within reach. “You still got yours?”

There’s a sound of Buck’s hand patting weakly around his chest, then a groan. “No. No, must’ve, uh – must’ve lost it in the collapse too.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, to himself as much as Buck. “They know where we are. We just gotta wait for them to come to us then. Wait and monitor, that’s all there is right now.”

“If the fire doesn’t get here first,” Buck says bitterly through clenched teeth.

Or the rest of the building doesn’t follow down, Eddie thinks but doesn’t say aloud.

His head is swimming – he must have been knocked harder than he initially thought. He takes a quick inventory of himself: he can still feel his toes, can move his feet – hears the shifting of rubble beneath them. His shins are getting numb from the pressure, but otherwise he seems intact.

He focuses outward again. On Buck’s chest rising and falling, shallow and careful, trying not to disturb the wound any more than it already has been. On Buck’s hands that are moving restlessly against his sides – fists balling, releasing, balling again – and his jaw that’s working side to side.

“Tell me something,” Eddie says, trying to distract him. “Anything.”

“About what?”

“Evan Buckley suddenly needs help finding something to ramble about? That’s a first.”

“No, no, I got it.” Buck shifts his eyes toward what’s left of the ceiling. “Okay, so. You know Dali, right? The melting clocks guy.”

“I know of him, sure.”

Buck audibly rolls his eyes and starts talking – something about a car, a university, a bunch of cauliflower – and Eddie lets the words wash over him. He’s listening to the cadence of Buck’s voice instead. It’s too even, void of the usual breathless enthusiasm that comes with a two-in-the-morning rabbit hole. In between Buck’s words he catches the distant thud thud thud of what he hopes is the 118 working through the debris toward them. He counts Buck’s breaths and prays they get there on time.

Buck sucks in a breath suddenly, cutting himself off. Eddie’s palm tightens around his shoulder. “The man also used to walk an anteater around Paris on a leash. Which, huh.”

Eddie lets his hand migrate slowly to Buck’s neck, two fingers settling at his pulse point. He counts for a handful of seconds and hates the math of it. The beats are coming too fast, too close together.

“Did it have a name?” Eddie asks in what he hopes is a level, calm voice – half because he’s curious, half because he needs to keep Buck talking for as long as he can.

“Of course,” Buck lets out an exhale, which sounds wet. “I don’t – I don’t remember it, but it definitely did, right?” He coughs and winces as his stomach muscles contract with it. “Ah – ah, that’s –”

“Breathe,” Eddie soothes as his fingers card upward into Buck’s hair, raking some of the curls back from his forehead. The skin under his touch is clammy. “Just breathe through it.”

Buck leans into the touch, and it doesn’t seem like he’s conscious of doing so. “I think about that guy sometimes, just –” he lets out a breathy laugh, his words coming a little slower now, the edges of them slightly dimmed. His eyes slip closed. “Must’ve been something, being him.”

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, patting his cheek. “None of that. Keep ’em open.”

Buck’s lashes flutter as he tries, but doesn’t quite manage.

“M sorry.” He turns his head into Eddie’s palm and just rests it there. Mumbles, “That’s nice.”

Eddie smiles small at that, knowing it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re not allowed to bail on me.”

Especially not now, he doesn’t add.

Something has been shifting between them lately – a plant they’ve had for years suddenly putting out new growth. They have never been so close to figuring it out, and Eddie won’t forgive the universe if they don’t get a chance to finish the thought.

He’s always known Buck is something different to him. There isn’t a simple word for it – he’s never found one that fits. And don’t get him wrong, he’d be absolutely happy even if they walk out of here and nothing changes shape. But lately he’s been wondering… and it seems like Buck is right there with him, so the idea that they might never reach the end of that path, might never find out what’s waiting at the end of it –

Eddie’s sight goes blurry. He blinks furiously against it.

The thudding is closer now. He can feel the vibrations in the rubble under his chest. “You hear that?”

Buck’s brow furrows faintly.

Eddie smoothes the crease in the skin with his thumb.

“They’re coming. You just have to hold on a little longer. That’s all. Just a little longer, and then I’m getting you out of here.”

Eddie made promises he couldn’t keep before.

He hopes that’s not going to be one of them.

Buck’s been searching for home his whole life. Moved around a bit, jumped between continents, latched on to people and held on well past the expiration date, more than once.

He thinks about that now, watching from the doorway Jee and Theo and baby Nash gathered around Chris on the carpet in the living room, looking up to him, absorbing his every word like tiny sponges.

Christopher is good with them. Not so much of a kid himself anymore, but close enough to remember what it was like to be one.

“So,” Maddie startles him, appearing at his elbow with a glass of wine for each of them. “How’s it going? With Theo. Did he settle in with you already?”

Buck takes the glass and lets his eyes drift to Theo, who’s vibrating with his whole body, trying so hard to be good for Chris, to stay still for a duration of his story – and failing miserably. He looks like a small bomb ready to go off.

“Yeah. I – yeah, really good,” Buck says, with a quick sideways glance at her. “Not – easy. But really good. Helps to have people around who actually know what they are doing.”

He lets his shoulder bump into Maddie lightly, and she laughs. Her eyes spark brightly. “Nothing in this world could keep me away from those adorable cheeks.” Her face goes all soft, her lips trembling slightly as they curve into a smile. Buck wonders if Theo reminds her of Daniel, maybe. “Seems like Eddie is helping out too.”

“Yeah, he’s –” Buck swallows, letting his eyes jump to where Eddie flips things over on a grill out in the backyard. “He’s around. Theo loves him.”

Maddie hums. He can feel her looking at him.

“And how’s Eddie?”

Buck frowns, still watching Eddie’s hands do their simple magic. “What do you mean?”

“How are things – between you?”

Buck watches Eddie pick up the last burger from the grill and make his way into the house. He catches Buck’s eye as he passes, and winks. Then smiles at Maddie, his cheeks dimpling with it and going pinkish.

He herds kids to the table. Helps Theo up the grown up chair too.

Buck melts at the sight, doesn’t seem to be able not to.

“We’re good,” he finally says, still not looking at Maddie. Pretty confident she can still see right through him like this. “We’re really good.”

With kids settled around the table, small plates with food cut to pieces in front of each, Eddie ruffles Chris’ hair and takes his seat. 

Buck pushes off the wall and starts toward them. Doesn’t feel Maddie following, so glances at her. “You coming?”

“In a second,” she says softly, looking past him to the table, to the family they’ve built for themselves. She blinks a few times and brings her wine glass to take a sip.

Her eyes are shining.

He is losing time, small moments here and there, but Eddie’s touch keeps stitching the fragments together into a surreal quilt.

“Where’s Theo at today?” he asks quietly, his fingers running through Buck’s hair rhythmically.

Buck startles at the question. It echoes with a sharp stab in his gut.

Eddie murmurs sorry, not for a second stopping his ministrations. His palm is warm and gentle against his scalp, and Buck’s skin sings at the contact, prickling, like there’s a current running from Eddie’s fingertips straight to his very core.

“He’s staying over at Maddie’s. What – what time is it? She’s – probably about to pick him up from daycare.” He licks his cracked lips. “They are taking the kids to the aquarium.”

The movement of Eddie’s hand slows down, his thumb tracing the edge of Buck’s birthmark. His voice is warm. “Weren’t you there just last week?”

Buck chuckles. “What can I say? They love their sharks.”

He tries to open his eyes, glance at Eddie as he says it, check if there’s a small smile on his lips he hopes is there, but his eyelids are too heavy.

It’s a bad thing, he knows it is, but he is powerless against it.

He’s so tired. But maybe that’s okay. Eddie says he’s got him, and Buck knows he means it.

Eddie’s thumb moves to the soft skin under his eye, then brushes against the corner of his mouth. “Tell me about your plans for the 48 off. Doing anything fun?”

He knows what Eddie’s doing. Eddie knows that Buck knows.

Buck doesn’t mind playing along.

There’s a tickle of an incoming cough at the back of his throat, and he swallows it down. Feels the corners of his mouth lift slightly against Eddie’s touch.

“You know our plans. You’ll be there. You’re always there.”

There’s a small, choked sound before Eddie whispers, “Tell me anyway.”

He can see it clearly in his mind: the four of them packed into his truck, music blasting, the windows down. Theo’s toys wedged into the footwell and the cupholders, a cooler full of drinks and fruit and snacks in the back. Eddie grumping that it’s too hot for a day outside – and then going quiet the moment they crest the last hill and the ocean opens up in front of them, endless, the brightest blue they’ve ever seen. They’d been talking about it for months. All four of them, finally, a real day off on the beach, nowhere else to be.

He wishes it could still happen. Wishes he had the time left to live this small, simple thing with them.

Buck shakes his head weakly instead of saying any of that, the movement so small he’s not sure Eddie catches it.

“We’ll have to reschedule, I’m afraid.”

“It’s okay. I’ll keep all my weekends free for you guys. Always.”

Something cracks open in Buck’s chest at that. He turns his face away as much as he can before Eddie catches it. Breathes through it.

The air tastes different now. Thicker, with something charred underneath.

The fire must be getting closer.

“They’re not gonna make it in time, are they?”

“Stop it.”

Eddie’s voice sounds pained. Buck hates to be the reason for him hurting.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispers, barely a sound at all. Like he’s confessing it to himself. “I don’t wanna go. I can’t – I don’t wanna leave –”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Eddie sounds certain. Buck wants to ask him – how can he be? Shannon wasn’t going anywhere, Bobby either. It wasn’t up to them at the end though. “You hear me? You’re not.”

Buck’s hand is resting against his stomach, just below the wound. The skin is hot to the touch there, and taut. He knows what rigid means in this scenario, and he knows it would drive Eddie crazy to not be able to do anything about it, so he doesn’t mention it.

There are so many things he’d tell him right now instead, if he could just find the words.

Eddie’s fingers press softly against his neck again, counting. The heartbeat is too loud in Buck’s ears. Too quick.

It’s not fair. They were just finding their rhythm, him and Theo. They had their first routines, inside jokes that were mostly just Theo making the same silly sound with his mouth over and over and Buck laughing every single time, without fault. They were supposed to have more time to become a proper family.

Eddie tugs on his sleeve gently. “Come on, man. Take my hand. Squeeze as hard as you can.”

Buck wants to – he wants it so much, to give Eddie everything. But the truth is, “I don’t –”

“For fuck’s sake, Buck. Just squeeze the damn hand.”

He tries. It’s not enough, he knows it’s not enough, and he gets the confirmation in the way Eddie’s next breath stutters.

His fingers keep running against Buck’s temple, the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear – like he’s trying to etch some protective sigils into his skin.

There’s a hint of copper on Buck’s tongue. He swallows it down. Hums, pressing his forehead against the back of Eddie’s hand, still clasped around his own.

He’s got good hands, gentle hands. Everything about Eddie is good really. He’s gentle, like only a person that knows the price of that gentleness can be, having sought it all his life. Such gentleness is a result of choosing to be gentle against what you’ve been taught, and Buck was always in awe of how gentle Eddie has always been with Chris. And how gentle he is now with Theo. As if trying to make up for every unfairness and cruelness of the world.

Buck feels the thread of thought slipping through his fingers, and he chases after it, even though he knows he’s bound to miss.

“You’re, uh –” his voice sounds distant, like he’s hearing himself speak from the other end of a very long hallway. “You’re giving him all the ripe fruit.”

“What?” He can hear Eddie frowning.

Words seem to stick in his throat. He has to push each one out with too much effort. “You love peaches, but you give the sweetest ones to him. And you’re eating the crusts you cut off his sandwiches. And you – you do the voices. Those stupid voices when you read to him.”

He needs to say it. Eddie doesn’t know how good he is, and Buck has to say it, because Eddie deserves to hear it at least once before he goes. He deserves so much more, and Buck wishes there was more time, but he must make do with what’s left.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie’s voice is choked, like he’s speaking against a tight throat.

Buck is slipping. The world narrows to the roar in his ears, and the hand squeezing his own, and something warm and tart flooding his mouth.

“Maddie knows. She knows,” he sucks in a breath. “It was always you, it never could be anyone else.” Buck’s voice is barely above a breath. He’s not sure he’s still making any sound – or sense – at all. “When I’m – ah. Take care of him, okay?”

The cough tears up from somewhere low in his chest. His teeth, his lips are coated with something thick and sticky. He swallows what he can, but it pools under his tongue again quickly, salt and iron, and he has to swallow again.

“Buck.”

“You have to promise – you’re my – you’re his Teddy.”

It’s not how he wanted this to go. He always thought there’d be more words. A real conversation – raw and honest, an inevitable conclusion, arrived at slowly, at the same time.

But he supposes this should do. He’s said what needed saying. Eddie has his hand, and his heart, and his kid.

It should do.

The darkness under his eyelids thickens, and with everything he has left he tries to snatch one last glance at Eddie. But life has never offered him that kind of kindness – why would it start now?

“Buck,” Eddie pleads, squeezing his hand hard enough it must hurt, but there’s no reaction.

There’s a sheen to Buck’s skin he knows too well, from multiple scenes that did not end happily.

“Hey.” He grabs onto Buck’s shoulders and shakes him, careful not to disturb the wound. “Buck. Hey, hey, buddy, I need you to stay with me.” He pats his cheek, harder than before. “We’re not doing this. We are not. Hey, look at me. Please.”

Buck’s skin is cold. His face has gone slack under Eddie’s touch, completely.

Eddie thrashes against the fragment of the wall pinning him down, groaning as it digs deeper into the meat of his thigh with a sharp edge.

There’s a loud thud coming from the wall on the other side of the space they are stuck in, a kaleidoscope of voices taking over each other, barking commands. They are muffled, but he recognizes a few by the melody of the sound, the cadence. His pulse picks up in hope.

Eddie shakes Buck again, sharply, but Buck’s head just rolls to the side.

“Fuck.” Eddie presses fingers to his neck again – catches a barely there pulse, looks toward the whirring noise of tools cutting through the wall. “Help!” He curses under his breath, choking on a sob. “Help! We need help over here!”

They aren’t quick enough.

They are doing their best, he’s sure of it, and yet they aren’t quick enough.

Eddie presses his knuckle against Buck’s sternum, hard, and rubs.

That can’t be it. It can’t be. Buck is bright – Buck is everything that is right and good about the world. He is not dying here. Not in this dirty, smoke-filled hole in the ground, a routine call gone wrong. He is not dying before he gets to know. Before Eddie gets to tell him.

He’s kept it folded away for years. Hidden, ink under sleeves, letting only the sliver of it show – because he was sure that was all he was ever going to be allowed. All that Buck was ever going to be willing to take from him. But all those thoughts, all those careful boundaries he drew around himself, they mean nothing now. He wants to love Buck the way Buck is supposed to be loved. The way none of his partners were ever able or willing to. He wants to love him with his whole chest, out loud, in capital letters. Wants Buck to grow sick of hearing it. Wants everyone around them to roll their eyes at them for the next forty years.

He is not dying here. Eddie won’t let him.

Buck’s heart gets weaker and weaker under Eddie’s hand, stumbling, stuttering. He’s getting paler – even in the white light of the singular helmet light, so much is clear. Eddie cradles his face. Presses his forehead into Buck’s curls. He whispers promise after promise after promise into his hair, like his love alone should be enough to sustain him until the help arrives.

There’s a whirring of tools – and then it stops. The voices get closer. Then hands – hands on him, hands on Buck. Blue medical gloves stark in the white light. Hands dragging Eddie from under the slightly lifted slab. Hands lifting him off the ground, carrying him out.

The last thing he sees before they get him through the gap is Hen on her knees beside Buck, waving Chim over urgently.

Eddie doesn’t hear what she says.

He closes his eyes and prays. Finds himself hoping, for the first time in a long time, that there’s something listening.

“No!”

“No?”

“No!”

Buck pulls in a slow, calming breath through his nose. Lets it all out through his mouth until his lungs cramp with it.

“Theo, buddy,” he drops into a crouch and inches closer, tries to take one of the kid’s hands, but he just snatches his tiny palm away with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I really need you to get these clothes on, like, now. We’ll be late.”

“No!”

“Okay – I hear you. Is it the shirt? You can choose whatever shirt you want. Does today feel like a Spiderman shirt day?”

Theo shakes his head furiously. Buck nods, thinking hard about their options.

“Paw Patrol? Bluey? You like that dog.”

Theo looks at him from under his furrowed eyebrows, small mouth pressed into a thin line. Buck wants to smack himself across the head – why did he have to go and pass this unfortunate part of himself to the kid too? He’s always heard he was too stubborn for his own good as a child, and not much has changed in that regard.

The lesson he’s learned fairly quick, though: you can never out-stubborn a toddler.

“You can choose whatever. I promise, whatever you choose, you’ll get to wear today. I just need you to do it now.” Buck glances at his watch, groans. Even if they make it out of the house in the next five minutes, they are not making it there on time. Another fifteen minutes and he’ll be late for his shift too.

“I don’t wanna,” Theo frowns, picking at the loose thread on the side of the couch.

Buck is seconds away from offering the kid a bribe in the shape of some extra sugar or screen time on their drive to daycare – or literally anything his heart desires – when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Hi,” he breathes in relief as he accepts the call.

“Hi,” he can hear the frown in Eddie’s voice. “So, I’m in the parking lot at the station, and your truck isn’t here – is it one of those days?”

“What?” Buck asks dumbly, glancing at Theo.

“Like, no pants days. No shirt day. No socks unless they are blue and have tiny rockets on them day?” Eddie chuckles. “Chris would throw a fit once in a while about something random, and there would be no winning.”

Buck pinches the bridge of his nose as he pulls back up to his feet. “Yeah, no – something like that. I don’t –” he lowers his voice and steps away from Theo, who’s looking on the verge of tears now for some reason only he’s aware of. “What do I do? I can’t just –”

“Did you try a Spiderman shirt?”

“He doesn’t want it!”

“Tough,” Eddie chuckles again. There’s a sound of fabric rustling on the other side of the line. “Any of those cartoon dogs he’s obsessed with?”

“Who do you think I – Eddie.”

There’s a breathy laugh. “A’right, a’right. Give him the phone.”

Buck frowns.

“Buck, you’ll be late. Give Theo the phone.”

With confusion clear on his face, he’s sure, Buck passes the phone to the kid. As he catches a glance at the screen and spots Eddie’s face on it, his eyes light up.

“Hi, Teddy. Are you coming over?”

Buck does the respectful thing and tries not to hover, instead channelling his attention into picking up the toys Theo was throwing around just a minute ago when his emotions got the better of him.

He still catches a string of yes and okay in the pauses of whatever Eddie’s saying.

After the bye in the sweetest voice imaginable, Theo passes Buck his phone back. Then he walks back to the couch and starts taking off his pyjamas.

Buck stares at him for another second, dumbfounded. Then he presses his phone to his ear.

“Okay, what did you tell him?”

Eddie laughs, an open, honest sound. “Wouldn’t you wanna know?”

“Actually – I would. Very much, Eddie.”

“Nah, that’s my secret weapon. You gotta find your own.”

“Eddie –”

“You’ll be fine. Figuring it out is a part of parenthood,” the words are soft with Eddie’s smile. “See you in a bit?”

Buck watches Theo pull up his shorts, focused expression on his sweet round face. “Yeah, yeah, you know it.” He clears his throat. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“It’s nothing.” There’s a stretch of silence, and Buck almost ends the call, when Eddie adds: “You’d do – you’ve done – the same for me.”

Buck blinks a few times, but before he can say anything, there’s a sound of a car door opening and shutting on the other side of the line.

“Buck, go.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

With Theo strapped into his car seat and both their bags in the passenger seat, Buck pulls out of the driveway.

The next fifteen minutes are a whirlwind, but it goes smoothly. Theo is quiet through the whole drive and the walk toward the daycare gates.

Before saying their goodbyes, Buck crouches down and opens his arms. Theo steps into them without hesitation and hugs back, his small arms locked around Buck’s neck. He holds on for a moment longer than he usually does, and Buck’s heart does a weird flutter in his chest at that.

He tries to work out what Eddie could have said to Theo on his way to the station, but can’t quite land on anything. And then he’s there, and Eddie’s got a second coffee waiting for him, and a knowing smile on his lips.

Buck can’t help but smile back.

The Uber pulls to a stop at the curb and Eddie is out of it before Buck can thank their driver for finally getting them through what can only be called the worst traffic of the year. It was like the whole city was against them, bottleneck after bottleneck on their way between the hospital and Buck’s house, but, on the other hand, it gave Buck plenty of time to doze off on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s not complaining.

The doctors wanted him to stick around for a bit longer, but he couldn’t take any more of hospital food and hospital bed and the whole hospital of it all, pain and misery and death stinking up the place, so, here they are – Eddie pulling the door open and offering his hand. Buck taking it.

Eddie’s got both their bags slung over his shoulder as they walk toward the house, his other hand protectively curling around Buck’s elbow. On the porch, he fishes out his keys. Lets Buck in first.

“Home sweet home,” Buck says, his voice raspy from disuse, and toes off his shoes in the hall without untying them. Behind him, Eddie quietly locks the door.

That’s what Eddie’s been since the collapse – quiet, soft spoken. To everyone around – calm, appreciative of the outcome, not for a second leaving Buck’s side. It was a close call for Buck; for a moment there things didn’t quite seem promising, so it’s natural for everyone to assume Eddie would be relieved and grateful they both get to walk out of the hospital in one piece after all.

But Buck knows better. Something’s coming, he can feel it in his teeth – an impossible scratch sitting deep in bone, mocking him.

Something’s coming, and Buck is sure as hell not ready to hold a debate right now, but he’d choose getting berated by Eddie over the alternative that almost became inevitable, every day of the week.

Buck makes his way to the living room, palm flat just below the stitches to counteract the pull of the skin, and hears the telltale thud of two bags hitting the floor and the rustle of Eddie pushing his sneakers to the side.

“Want anything?” Buck calls out without looking to check if Eddie is following. He always does.

Buck grabs a glass and starts filling it up.

Eddie stops a few steps short of him.

“Listen –” Buck licks his lips, sneaks a little moment for himself to find the words. Then turns – and Eddie is right there. Eyes dark, unreadable. Over the years Buck’s got pretty good at reading Eddie – deems himself somewhat of an Eddie guru – and yet he can’t read him right now. He’s not even sure he’s seen that particular expression on him before.

Eddie looks down to Buck’s hand, then reaches out slowly, takes the glass from his fingers and sets it back on the counter.

Buck stares after it, his lips slightly parted. Then shifts his glance upward to Eddie’s face.

Before their eyes can meet, though, there’s movement. Eddie steps in and presses himself into Buck’s space. Their mouths softly collide in a kiss, at the same time Eddie’s big, gentle hands shoot up to frame Buck’s face.

Buck freezes. Then melts at the tenderness of Eddie’s lips, of the way he’s holding him like he’s something fragile and precious. His bones are jelly. His body is an ice cream cake left out in July. Buck sucks in a ragged breath against Eddie’s mouth. Finds whatever sliver of will he has left and wills himself to finally kiss back.

Eddie hums into it, pleased, his thumbs moving against Buck’s cheekbones, gently, reverently, and Buck refuses to think about the last time he did that.

Eddie lets his tongue flick into Buck’s mouth, just barely, one quick wet sweep against his teeth and tongue, and then retreats – and Buck leans after him, following without thinking.

“I’m sorry.”

Buck snaps his eyes open. Eddie looks at him like a deer caught in headlights that is about to shake off the stupor and bolt for its life. His mouth, pink and slightly swollen from the kiss, is pressed into a line.

“What?” Buck asks, shifting on his feet. He feels dizzy. His stitches must’ve come undone again.

“You almost died.”

“I’m –”

“Again. You almost died again.”

“– fine,” Buck finishes uselessly.

“You didn’t think you were fine, in there.” Eddie’s jaw is tight. “You thought you weren’t walking out. You made a whole point of that.”

Buck just keeps looking at him. What does Eddie want him to say? He was scared. He was, in a way, saying goodbye. It all felt too real – not just a brush with death this time, but a crushing embrace, and for a moment it seemed like that was it.

But he did walk out of that building, and now he’s here, in his own kitchen, and Eddie just kissed him.

Eddie bites on the inside of his mouth. No amount of blinking can hide how shiny his eyes are. “I promised myself I’d do it if you – if I get another chance – but at the hospital someone was always around, so – yeah.”

“Yeah,” Buck echoes, the corners of his mouth ticking up into a smile he isn’t even going to pretend to fight.

Eddie looks away, rubbing a hand over his mouth. His eyebrows pinch together as his eyes rake the backyard, the grass, the pool, the scatter of toys and equipment. He shakes his head again, but this time with an amused huff and a smile that dies halfway to his eyes. The tension bleeds out of him ounce after ounce as he watches the clouds pass by.

“I can’t believe you tried to pull an Uno reverse on me. Making me Theo’s –” he huffs again. “Now, that’s –” his eyes jump to Buck and back to the window. He lets out a frustrated groan. “That was dumb.”

Buck blinks. “Wh – You did it first.”

Eddie turns and looks at him properly, his hands drifting to rest on his hips. “It wasn’t a spur of the moment thing for me, Buck, I thought about it. A lot. I made an appointment.” He holds Buck’s gaze. There’s some math happening behind his eyes, probably how much to show right in that moment. Something flickers. Decision made. “I gave you my kid. It’s not the same thing.”

“I mean, it’s exactly –”

“I gave you my kid, Buck. He’s my everything.”

Buck’s heart is loud in his throat.

He knows what Eddie means. For years he refused to look at it too closely, to ask himself why exactly his chest caved in when Eddie told him about the will all those years ago in the hospital. The exact same reason why no one from the 118 knows about it, and why he hasn’t mentioned it to Maddie, too, to this day.

But then again, he has two families with kids in his immediate circle that could take care of Theo if must be; one of those families are adoptees.

And yet, he didn’t lie back in the collapse.

It’s always been Eddie.

Buck takes a step closer. “It may not – it’s not technically in the will yet, sure. But –” he shrugs with one shoulder, rubs at the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heating up with a flush. “He’s already yours. You knew that. You should’ve known that, Eddie. And I don’t see how it’s different from your thing.”

Eddie swallows thickly, reading between the lines. His eyes move from one of Buck’s eyes to the other, searching for confirmation, and Buck wants him to find it – the simple truth in big block letters he refuses to hide away anymore.

God, they are bad at the whole speaking your mind thing.

He takes another step closer, and Eddie’s face softens. His eyes are so, so warm as he watches Buck approach, sunlit amber against old bark.

Buck has to tip his chin down slightly to look at him as they come chest to chest, and Eddie tilts his head back in a mirror gesture to look up. They both are grinning.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Buck thinks he might cry. He’s halfway there, frankly, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing and also a hundred percent him, to cry on the precipice of the greatest thing to happen to him?

“I am going to kiss you now,” he announces in a breathless whisper.

“You better.” Eddie is just as breathless with it.

Buck leans the rest of the way in. The kiss is almost chaste at first, just a soft press of lips. He feels warm all over anyway, like there’s a sunflower unfurling in the middle of his chest, blooming slow and bright. He licks at the seam of Eddie’s lips and they part, inviting him in.

Eddie kisses back tentative and careful, mindful of Buck’s injuries. One hand curls around his waist, holding him close without pressing; the other hovers a mere inch from his jaw, never quite landing. It’s slow, and gentle, and nothing like what Buck is used to. No hunger, no fear. Just the simple quiet joy of coming home after a long day – of finally pulling in a full breath.

Eddie starts backing toward the living room, pulling Buck with him. Buck follows, because the day he doesn’t follow Eddie is the day they pronounce him dead.

He doesn’t realise he’s smiling into the kiss until Eddie chuckles.

“Sap,” he mumbles against his lips, unwilling or unable to break it.

In the living room, Eddie spins them around and pushes lightly at Buck’s chest until the backs of his thighs hit the back of the couch. Buck catches up with the program and perches on it, spreading his knees to make space for Eddie.

Eddie steps in right away, never stops kissing him. This way the height difference reverses, and Buck feels dizzy with having Eddie above him.

Both Eddie’s hands are in his curls now, at the back of his head, tugging playfully, gently, angling his face just right.

They keep kissing, lost in the sensation, in each other’s warmth and presence, and keep kissing even as their lungs start burning – too stubborn to pull away. Hands roaming, tongues teasing, they don’t stop even as the door unlocks with a clank and turn of a key, and the hallway erupts — the joyful chaos of a toddler, the grumping of a teenager, and the tight but still kind voice of an adult who has had too many kids in the house for the last eight days.

“Oh. Oh.”

“Come onnnn.”

“Teddy! Buck!”

Buck would hate the interruption in any other circumstance, but right now, he grins. He pushes off the back of the couch and winces, his stomach protesting the abrupt change of position.

Theo slams into his leg, wrapping his arms around his knee. Buck looks down – and the sky is steel gray and heavy with rainclouds behind the window, but there’s suddenly sunlight.

“Hi, buddy.”

“Buck. Buck. Buck.” Theo tips his face up, eyes wide and so, so bright. “We saw a firetruck on our way here. It was big, and red, and – so big.”

“No way.” Buck chuckles. “How big?”

Theo stretches his arms as wide as they’ll go, which is not very wide, but the commitment is there.

Eddie scoops Theo up, lifting him until they’re level. Theo dissolves into giggles – and then reaches out and hooks an arm around each of their necks, pulling them both in. 

Buck can feel Eddie beside him melt.

He managed not to cry before, he really did, but it’s a sure thing now.

Theo wiggles after a moment when the hug has reached its natural limit, and Eddie sets him down gently. His feet barely hit the floor and he’s already moving – already talking to Chris, waving him to follow; something about a dinosaur, his first one, the best one, the one Buck got him, that Chris has to see right now.

Chris follows, but not before he turns back and gives the two of them a look. Buck can feel the tips of his ears burning. Eddie chokes on a laugh beside him.

When it’s just the three of them, Maddie slides the bag off her shoulder and holds it out to Eddie. “They were great,” she says. “No trouble at all.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her.

“The normal amount of trouble,” Maddie revises, without missing a beat. “I still remember how this one was –” she gestures at Buck “– and I still have a trick or two up my sleeve. It was fun.”

Buck laughs. Eddie’s shoulder bumps into his as he sways with his own laughter.

Maddie isn’t commenting on what she walked in on, and Buck is grateful. How do you explain to your sister something that you barely understand yourself? The destination was inevitable – and he knows they are about to get an earful on that topic from the 118 – but the whole getting there is still a little blurry in his mind.

Buck can feel the effort radiating off her though – the swallowed oh my god, finally, the hand not reaching for her phone to text Chimney, the told you she is physically restraining. He can see it clearly in her eyes: the first second they’re alone, they’re talking about it.

Eddie’s hand comes to rest at the small of Buck’s back, casual. That’s what they are now, apparently, two people who rest their hands on each other's backs with no regard to the audience.

Maddie’s face goes soft as she catches it. She looks at Eddie, then back at Buck, and something in her expression settles.

“I’ll let you rest now,” she says. “Call me if you need anything. Call me anyway, actually, but – yeah.” She opens her arms with an unsure smile and a slight tilt of her head, and Buck steps into her embrace happily. She hugs him a little tighter than usual. He lets out a long, steadying breath. After all this years, she still feels like home.

She hugs Eddie too, and it lingers, and then she’s gone.

For a moment they just listen to two excited voices drifting from Theo’s room, the house quiet around them. The rain starts pattering against the windows and the roof in a soft rhythm.

Eddie’s hand is still at the small of Buck’s back. It moves then, slowly wrapping around his waist instead, pulling him in closer.

They kiss, and Buck can’t believe how quickly it became this thing they do, just because they can, whenever they feel like it. It’s still soft and patient, gentle – but this time there’s new confidence to it too. Like being witnessed was the last missing piece to make it real.

Buck pulls away after a moment. Has to blink a few times for his eyes to focus on Eddie’s face.

“You and Chris should stay,” he whispers. “Tonight. Every night. I don’t want to spend another second away from you.”

Eddie kisses him sweetly – lips, the corner of his mouth. It’s not the answer, but at the same time it is. Something anxious and lonely in Buck’s chest settles. 

Eddie steps back after another quick peck, angling toward the hall the voices are ringing through – now going on about dogs and their understanding of self and their place in the universe.

“Not sure what makes you think we’d be moving into your place,” Eddie teases as he walks away. 

“Um, hello?” Buck lets out an offended huff and follows. He starts bending fingers. “For one, it’s bigger. It has a bigger yard. It’s fully accessible.” He ticks off another. “It’s closer to work and Theo’s daycare. And Maddie and Hen are nearby, we can walk to theirs.”

Eddie doesn’t seem persuaded, but there’s a sneaky smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.

Buck rakes his mind for anything else, and then almost jumps when he finds it – slams his last card on the metaphorical table between them. “And I have a jacuzzi!”

Eddie glances back at him and there’s a moment where they just stare at each other, and then a laugh bursts out of Eddie’s chest – bright and sudden, the kind of laugh that has no performance in it at all.

It’s such a beautiful sound that all Buck can do is laugh too, and then follow him down the hall, and kiss him about it.