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Eddie was ten years old when he was told that he had to be the man of the house - he'd grown up plenty, one sister under his wing and another on the way, but he'd grown up even more then. It never really stopped after that. He was nineteen when he became a parent, made to be an adult while his peers were off at college, discovering themselves, being themselves.
He's always had to be bigger than he is, older than he should be, it's just - sometimes, when he's alone, he feels so damn small in comparison to the world around him. It's usually after a long shift, the ones that end in the morning, Chris is already off at school, and he's got the house to himself to catch up on chores and prepare for the week.
Sometimes, though, he doesn't. Can't. Finds himself rifling through his drawers, seeking out his softest, comfiest clothes to change into. Today, he finds an old shirt of Buck's, so worn in that there are tiny, little holes at the hip, and a pair of sweatpants that he has to roll up a little so he doesn't trip over the ends of them.
The clothes soothe the buzzing beneath his skin quickly, but it's not enough. He feels overwhelmed, overstimulated, and guilty that he's not doing the things he's supposed to be doing. He moves to the couch to fold the laundry, but finds himself wrapped in a blanket instead, the weight of it settling over his body as he burritos himself in it.
He goes to reach for his phone to entertain himself, but finds he must have left it in the bedroom. Unwilling to leave the safe space of the blanket, he reaches for the TV remote. The last thing they'd been watching on Disney Plus kicks back up, a re-watching of Zootopia that Buck had insisted on, because they'd be seeing the sequel soon with Christopher.
Hitting play, Eddie settles into the corner of the couch, ignoring the basket of clothes there. If he finds himself chewing on the corner of the blanket, wetting the soft fabric with his saliva, he ignores it. The repetitive movements of his jaw and tongue are soothing, calming him in a way he rarely gets to experience.
He gets halfway through the remainder of the movie when the front door opens. Panic flares instantly, heart thumping wildly in his chest as he sits up.
Buck walks down the hall, looking relieved as he spots Eddie. "Jesus, Eddie. I thought you were dead. Where the hell is your phone?"
Eddie's eyes go wide and wet, emotion flooding them. "I---" The words he needs feel too big, too out of reach. "Sorry."
Buck's expression softens immediately, brows knitting in concern. "Hey, I'm-- hey. I'm not mad. I was just worried."
Head shaking to dislodge the sticky feelings, he wipes at his eyes, pulling his arm out of the safe warmth of the blanket. "No. Sorry. I--- I don't know. I left it."
Something like recognition flickers across Buck's face. He walks over to the couch, hand finding Eddie's knee through the blanket as he rubs over it soothingly. "You lose your phone, Eddie? Do you want me to help you find it?"
Tears well at Eddie's lashline, threatening to spill over, warmth blossoming across his face and ears. "N-No. I don't-- I don't want it. I don't--"
"It's okay," Buck says easily, voice gentle. "You don't need it. Do you wanna lay down and watch your movie?"
Eddie's eyes flick to the laundry basket, bulging with days' worth of clean clothes. "I--I shouldn't. I dunno."
Buck's gaze follows Eddie's, landing on the clothes. "Well, I uh, I actually love folding clothes while watching stuff. Keeps my hands busy. How about we watch together, and I fold some of the laundry?"
Eddie's knee pushes into Buck's touch, head nodding slowly. That does sound nice. "Do-- we can start the movie again. If you want."
Shaking his head, Buck urges Eddie back to his previous spot of snuggling up on the couch, tucking a pillow beneath Eddie's head. He feels --- safe. Secure. Small in a way that doesn't feel so scary. "No, it's okay. I've seen it. I just wanna hang out with my best guy."
Eddie scrubs at his eyes, brushing the last tears there away and settling in place. "Me?"
"Yeah, buddy," Buck says, grinning. "You're my best friend."
"Liar," Eddie says, giggling. "Chris is your best friend."
Buck looks delighted by the noise escaping Eddie. He drops down onto the armchair, pulling the basket closer. "Fine, Chris is my best friend. But you're my second-best friend."
Eddie blinks slowly at him, smiling warmly. "You're my second-best friend, too."
"Good. Watch your movie. The next part is the best part."
Eddie clicks the TV back into motion, eyes glued to the screen. He falls asleep before the movie even finishes, cozier than he's been in a long time. When he wakes up, he's been moved to bed, tucked into his real blankets and pillows. Meaning Buck carried him. Looked after him.
He doesn't quite know what to do with that, the thoughts and feelings so large he's not sure he could hold them if he even tried, so he closes his eyes again and sleeps a little longer.