Archive of Our Own

Eddie didn’t think he’d be back in a hospital so soon after Shannon’s death. Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise; it does seem common in their line of work. Or maybe it’s just him. Maybe he’s a curse on the people around him.

At least this time, the news seems good.

Buck made it through surgery, even if it took a little longer than expected. He will be able to walk again, just now with a titanium rod and a few screws in his leg to help. There’s a possibility he could come back to work in the distant future, which is a miracle in and of itself. It’s not every day you survive being crushed by a ladder truck. 

It’s a good outcome. It’s the ideal outcome. 

Buck is okay. Eddie can stop holding his breath and fearing the worst. 

Except he can’t. Eddie still feels like he’s standing on a tightrope, holding Buck’s hand in the cold night as he helplessly hears Buck scream out in agony. 

He’s unsettled in the hospital waiting room, leg bouncing in a way that's unusual for him. Eddie prides himself on being a very calm and collected guy, even in the face of distress. It’s the reason why he’s so good at his job. It’s how he survived this long.

But now his calmness has been thrown out the window. He won’t simmer down until he sees with his own two eyes that Buck is okay. Word of mouth isn’t enough; he needs substantial proof. 

So when Carla unexpectedly walks back into the waiting room moments later, Eddie jumps to his feet. 

“Is he okay?” 

Maddie and Ali must still be with Buck, which is a good thing. His sister and girlfriend—the people who should be waiting at his bedside. 

The rest of their team, minus Eddie, are unfortunately still stuck on shift, which only got even busier after the accident. Chimney, thankfully, let Eddie jump off the ambulance when they wheeled Buck in. He’s been sending all of them—as well as Bobby, who Eddie knows would’ve been here waiting just as impatiently if he didn’t have to aid in the investigation—live updates. All of them have been on edge since Buck was taken in for surgery. 

The doctors seemed unsure of how it would go. Eddie couldn’t bear to sit by Buck’s bedside knowing that information. He couldn’t watch him sleep, waiting for him to come to, and think about an aftermath that could involve Buck never working again. 

So Eddie sat alone in the waiting room as Carla went in. 

“He’s going to be just fine,” Carla consoles him. “He’s being pampered by his girlfriend right now. He’ll live.” 

At that, the tension Eddie is holding in his shoulders should drop, but it doesn’t. Unsure, he asks, “Should I go in there?”

Carla pauses for a moment, granting him the familiar kind smile that Eddie always appreciates coming from her. Usually, the context is different, with Eddie being overly worried about Christopher rather than someone else. 

But Buck isn’t like anybody else, least not to Eddie.

Despite the rough footing they found themselves on, Eddie thinks that Buck might just be his best friend. And he’s never had a best friend before.

Not one like Buck. 

“I think he’d really like it if you did, even if he doesn’t say it.”

Eddie breathes out an “okay,” before following her down the hospital hallway. He’s oddly thankful right now that his parents and sisters are still in town to stay with Christopher. Not that the circumstances are ideal, but it’s one less worry on Eddie’s mind right now. 

His mind that can’t help but ring Buck’s name on repeat, fighting an anguish Eddie faced only a week prior when he saw Shannon lying in pain on the street. It shouldn’t feel like a similar comparison, but Eddie can’t shake that it does. It’s odd—something that Eddie really can’t delve into the why of it all right now, but it doesn’t change the feeling

Maybe it’s just the too much loss in a short period of time. Maybe it’s the anxiety that sits deep within Eddie, untouched and unacknowledged, that’s causing him to feel this way. Maybe it’s the fear that someone Eddie lov—cares for will be taken from him again. 

Eddie stands in the doorway for a second as Carla makes her way into the room, taking her place beside Maddie and whispering something in her ear that makes her chuckle. Eddie doesn’t join them straightaway. He stays and watches, releasing a tight breath.

Buck is lying there with a cut mirroring the birthmark on his temple and a nasal cannula hooked under his nose. His leg is elevated, wrapped in a cast and full of metal. He’s smiling pleasantly at Ali, but Eddie can still see the red rims around his usually bursting-with-life blue eyes. 

He’s not all there yet.

That doesn’t come as a shock to Eddie. He hasn’t known Buck for long, but he knows Buck. He knows Buck can’t sit quietly for too long. He’s always on the go, running laps around the station or running his mouth. He won’t deal well with waiting to heal. He always needs to be up-and-at-’em, always the first to put his hand up to do something stupidly reckless. 

Eddie can’t imagine Buck would react well to knowing that will be taken away from him, even if only temporarily. 

And though he’s grinning at his girlfriend, there’s still a part within his eyes that seems scared. 

“Hey, you came.” 

Buck’s voice rattles around the room, directed at Eddie and full of shock. He sounds weak. Much weaker than Eddie’s ever seen him before. 

Buck’s gaze darts from his girlfriend holding his hand over to Eddie still in the doorway. Ali tilts her head around to stare at him as well. The attention makes Eddie feel slightly faint.

“Yeah. I never left,” Eddie coughs before awkwardly toeing into the room. He can feel Maddie tracking his movements curiously. “Everyone else is still working, so Chim let me stay to send updates.”

Buck nods slowly. He seems far more pale than Eddie recalls him being. 

“And—And Bobby?” he asks tentatively. 

“He wanted to be here,” Eddie answers truthfully. “And he will be, as soon as he can. He’s still at the precinct giving his statement.”

At the promise of Bobby's commitment to visiting, the tension within Buck visibly eases. Eddie may still be considered new at the 118, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the bond between Bobby and Buck is beyond Captain and Firefighter. 

“What’re you standing over there for? C’mere,” Buck insists and gestures to the empty chair beside his bed. 

Eddie hesitates, wringing his hands together. His eyes catch onto Maddie and Carla briefly, but neither makes a move for the offered chair. 

He looks back at Buck and finds him waiting, and how is Eddie meant to say no to that?

He takes the seat, smiling at Buck as he does. Buck responds with a hint of upturned lips before they disappear again. Eddie’s sure it’ll take a lot more for Buck to find his way back to himself. Time and effort. He’s willing to bet that Buck’s persistence won’t go down without a fight, no matter how long it ends up taking. 

“You feeling okay?” Eddie asks stupidly, already knowing the answer.

Buck sighs. “Well, I’m alive.”

“Wow, don’t sound so disappointed,” Maddie chimes in, nudging shoulders with Carla. 

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie says with conviction. “You’ll bounce back, just gotta give it time.”

“He always does,” Carla adds, “our Buckaroo.” 

Despite the paleness, Buck’s cheeks redden at the comment as he tips his chin down. The blush is faint, but from sitting bedside, Eddie gets a pretty clear view of it. 

From Buck’s other side, Ali seems oddly quiet. Like Eddie, she watches Buck intently, but the glint in her stare is different. It’s filled with concern, or more like fear. Almost like she’s only just now realizing the reality of dating a firefighter. Sometimes you end up sitting in a hospital waiting chair more often than you’d hope for. 

“Just sucks,” Buck mumbles. 

Eddie fights the unusual urge within himself to reach out and grab hold of Buck’s hand. A form of comfort, if you will. 

The desire is… odd. Eddie’s never felt that before. 

Except for earlier today, watching Buck struggle under that firetruck. All Eddie wanted then was to help, to be a lifeline for Buck to hold on to. Eddie offered his hand without a second thought. It’s his job.

But now he still has that same urge. He still wants to hold Buck’s hand. To feel his callous fingers interlock with Eddie’s.

Eddie can’t contain himself. He watches Buck’s hands. 

He watches as they fly across the air as he speaks, not being able to help it even if his energy is dimmer than usual. He stares at Buck’s fingers, shorter than his own but thicker, as they fidget with the hospital bed blanket. He watches as Buck grips the spoon for his pudding, his strength evident in just the small gestures. 

His eyes linger just below the wrist, where Buck’s veins are only slightly noticeable from the distance. His gaze stays there, knowing that if Eddie were to place his own fingertips there, he could feel Buck’s pulse. 

Eddie knows Buck is alive. He’s literally sitting right in front of him. He can see in the corner of his eye Buck’s chest rising and falling with every breath he takes. His heart monitor is only inches from Eddie’s chair.

And yet, Eddie still feels the need to double-check. There’s a beating in his chest, aching at the thought that this isn’t real. That the Buck in front of him is still lying in the middle of the street, crying out in pain. 

Eddie wants to feel his touch again. To hold his hand and be sure that Buck is okay. 

But he can’t. Buck’s hand is being held by Ali right now as she touches his forearm and lets out a sigh of relief herself. 

So Eddie watches. He sits, and he watches. 

“It does suck,” Eddie says eventually. He won’t sugarcoat it; Buck seems like the type who won’t respond well to that. “It’ll probably suck for a really long time, but you’ll pull through. You’re Buck. It’s what you do.” 

The look Buck gives him is incredulous, but Eddie doesn’t back down. 

They hold eye contact for a moment too long before Buck says in a low voice, “I’m glad you’re here, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s face softens. He pats the bed beside where Buck’s hand rests, facing up, like he wants Eddie to grab hold of it.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

∘₊ ☆──────☆₊∘

Eddie can’t look.

Buck is lying almost lifeless in a hospital bed again, and Eddie can’t stare directly at him. It’s like a total solar eclipse, the darkness of the hospital’s shadows covering Buck’s light. It burns Eddie’s retinas whenever he tries catching a glimpse. 

There’s a breathing tube inside of him, allowing him to live, hooked up to a ventilator. The beeping is a constant reminder of his current unconscious state. The sound of it is too much for Eddie to handle. He hides as far away in the corner as he can manage. 

Christopher is standing by Buck’s side when he really shouldn’t be. Eddie can’t even consider the consequences right now that come from getting caught sneaking a kid into the ICU. 

But Chris had begged him to see Buck. The second Chris found out about the lightning strike, he insisted he stay and wait at the hospital as well, even if Eddie much preferred him to stay home with Carla. 

It was just too much all at once. 

And, as much as he tried, Eddie couldn’t resist the persistence in his son’s voice. It was underlined with anxiety. 

The bond that Chris and Buck share is special; Eddie knows that. The kid isn’t bluffing when he says Buck is his best friend. It’s the exact reason why Eddie put Buck in his will—for Christopher’s sake. He knows Chris needs Buck just as much as he needs Eddie himself. The act of changing his will was just to ensure that. 

Eddie couldn’t tell him no. Chris wanted to see Buck, so Eddie made that happen. 

Even if he can’t even bear to look at them together. 

Over the years, Eddie has come to realize that his son is a much braver person than he is. The things Eddie overthinks, Chris doesn’t give a second thought to. If he wants to ride a skateboard, Chris will do whatever it takes to make that happen. Christopher has always known what he’s wanted and strived towards it. Eddie has always admired that in him.

So while Eddie cowers in the corner, Christopher stands by Buck’s bedside to speak to him.

Eddie can’t even watch them, lest his silent tears turn to sobs, so he stares off into the distance instead. Hen catches his eye. She gives him a knowing look of heartbreak, like she understands just how painful this is for Eddie personally. Of course she loves Buck as well—they all do. Losing him will be a pain that nobody could ever recover from.

But everyone knows Eddie and Buck’s relationship is different, even if they don’t know the specifics of it. They’re best friends, but it’s more than that. It’s a partnership that extends outside the walls of the fire station. They don’t always see behind the closed doors of Eddie’s house. How Buck is so intertwined with every single aspect of his life. 

Buck lives in his kitchen. He stays on Eddie’s couch. He helps Christopher with his homework. He’s a permanent fixture of 4995 South Bedford, way beyond a guest.

Sure, their friends and team know they’re partners, but they don’t fully grasp the extent of it. 

If Eddie loses Buck, there’s no moving on for him. 

And from the look in her eyes, it’s almost like Hen’s starting to realize that too. 

“Do you want a moment alone with him?” she asks.

Eddie knows if he speaks, he’ll choke, so he just nods instead. 

“Okay,” Hen says softly, before turning back to Christopher. “Chris, why don’t you come with me to find Carla and let your dad talk to Buck alone for a moment?”

With much resistance, Chris steps away from Buck’s bedside. He keeps his head down as he follows Hen out of the room. But before he crosses the threshold, he’s wrapping limp arms around Eddie’s torso for a hug. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as the tears begin to fall rapidly. He sinks into the embrace, pulling Christopher in tighter, and whispers a soft, “Thank you, mijo,” into his hairline.

When Chris eventually, yet reluctantly, pulls away, Eddie immediately feels the need to hide his tears again. But he doesn’t. Christopher’s eyes are just as glassy as his own, matching red rims. Eddie gives him one final shoulder rub before Chris walks off with Hen. 

With the door of the hospital room shutting behind them, Eddie decides to take a page out of his son’s book. 

He’s going to try to be brave. 

Slowly, he makes his way over to Buck’s bedside. The silence is jarring. Eddie can hear his feet shuffling against the linoleum floors. He can hear every shallow breath he takes as he stands by Buck. 

Now that he’s here, he doesn’t really know what to do. There’s so much he could say to Buck, but the words never come to Eddie. Sometimes he feels like there aren’t any words that could really express his deep gratitude for Buck.

He aims for casual, starting with a “Hey, man—” before his voice cracks too exposingly for the words to feel right. 

Buck’s face never changes, of course, yet Eddie still imagines the judgement from it. If Buck were awake, a snarky comment would be made about Eddie phoning it in. Eddie would grin despite the dig. Buck always makes him laugh, even when he doesn’t feel like he knows how to. 

So Eddie exhales sharply and starts again—honestly. 

“Buck, I—I. I don’t even know if you can hear me. Maybe this is all bullshit, but if you can…” 

He stares down at Buck’s pale cheeks, his birthmark almost hidden from the lack of color in his face. The sight is so wrong. 

Eddie sucks in another breath. 

“You gotta wake up, Buck. You can’t—You can’t leave me. You can’t leave us. You heard Chris. He believes in you so much. He—He loves you so much. I can’t… let you be taken away from him.”

The tears Eddie tried holding back before fall down tenfold. The sobs swallow up his words. All the emotions he’s buried deep down since that flash of lightning escape to the surface. There’s no running from it, so Eddie does the unusual thing for him and lets them fall. 

“And me. Buck, I need you,” he confesses. “You’re my best friend, I can’t—”

The words drift away as Eddie grabs the same hand Chris did before. He squeezes it tight, trying to force some life into it. 

“You gotta come back. You gotta fight this. I—I know you can, Buck. You gotta come home. You need to.”

Eddie sits in his confession for a long time, just holding Buck’s hand and letting tears fall. The feeling is strange, but not unwelcome. Eddie and Buck are close, that’s no lie, but they’re not usually tactile like this. Eddie will place a hand on Buck’s shoulder every now and then; he’ll grab the side of his hip when walking behind Buck; their thighs are often pressed against each other in the back of the engine, but something about handholding feels more… intimate. 

Maybe it’s the circumstances. They only ever hold hands when one of them is on the brink of death. 

Eddie remains still in the moment, leaning on the side of Buck’s bed and just watching him. He looks so unsettled in his sleep. One would expect Buck to look peaceful right now, but he doesn’t. His forehead almost has a crease, like wherever his mind is at is upsetting him. 

Eddie’s seen Buck sleep often, either in the bunks at the station between calls or on Eddie’s own couch when he wakes up before Buck the morning after late nights. When Buck sleeps, his usual demeanor of dimpled smiles and creases by his eyes calms. Eddie always finds it interesting. It’s always so starkly different from when Buck’s awake. Like a peacefulness settling over his usual chaos. 

But his expression now is neither calm nor chaos. It’s almost painful. 

Or maybe that’s just Eddie. The pain he feels reflected onto Buck’s comatose body. 

Reflexively, Eddie caresses his thumb over the back of Buck’s hand. He finds it soothing for the rattling around his heart. He hopes it’s soothing Buck too, wherever he is. 

The silence of the room is broken by the door opening.

“Oh, sorry.” Maddie’s voice rings softly. Eddie turns his head to watch as she slowly steps out of the room. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I can go—”

“No,” Eddie assures her. He hates how broken his voice still sounds. He coughs to clear it, hopefully covering up the fact he was crying. He knows Maddie wouldn’t judge him for that—she’s in the same boat here, yet it’s still something Eddie can’t let up. “It’s okay. You can stay.”

With a small, thankful grin, Maddie walks over to Buck’s other side. Eddie should probably drop Buck’s hand now. He probably should allow Maddie a moment alone with her little brother, but he finds he can’t bring himself to move. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, but he’s not so ready to part from Buck yet. 

“They’ll probably want to reassess soon if he can breathe on his own again without…” Maddie says, gesturing to the ventilator before grabbing Buck’s free hand. 

“He can do it,” Eddie insists. 

Maddie freezes, then says in a low voice, “How can you be so sure?” 

Eddie answers with no hesitation. “It’s Buck. He wouldn’t give up.”

Maddie smiles at him bittersweetly. “You put a lot of faith into him.”

Her words take Eddie back to five years ago. Him and Buck standing in a car park right before a bomb blows up only feet away. Them shaking hands on a vow that hasn’t been broken yet, and if it’s up to Eddie, never will be. 

“He promised to have my back,” Eddie answers. “Gotta put some faith into that.” 

Faith is a funny thing, Eddie has learned. It was always ingrained in him from an early age. His faith belonged to his God. That’s the way it had to be. It took Eddie years to realize it didn’t need to be like that. He still remembers the look on his mother’s face when he said he didn’t want to go to church with them anymore. Eddie just… didn’t feel what his family did when they’d attend church together. He was tired of pretending that he did. 

And since then, Eddie’s been indifferent to the matter. It’ll always reside in him, this Catholic guilt, yet he doesn’t know if he believes in a higher power in the sky. 

But Eddie knows he believes in Buck. 

After all these years, Buck’s never given him a reason not to. Sure, there was the lawsuit, but then there was also the tsunami. When Buck put Christopher’s life before his own without a second thought, Eddie knew his trust in Buck would never falter after that. 

So he knows Buck isn’t going to leave them now. Not like this.  

“He believes in you, too,” Maddie says, almost reading his mind. 

Eddie draws in a breath. “I know. We do that for each other. We take care of each other.” 

Maddie gives him a knowing smile before whispering, “Thank you.” 

Eddie finally looks over at her. Her eyes are growing glassy as they stay locked on Buck. 

“What for?” 

“For everything you do for him. It’s—As his sister, it’s nice to see. To see someone believe in him so much. To care about him,” Maddie explains. “You get it, right? With your younger sisters?” 

Eddie nods, but he’s not really sure what for. 

Maddie continues. “You just want someone else out there other than yourself to look out for them. That’s how I feel. I know he’s safe with you.”

The words are too vulnerable for Eddie. He and Maddie never really speak one-on-one, and especially not like this. He draws his gaze back to Buck. Somehow that’s easier than looking at his sister right now. 

“Yeah. I—I try.”

And he does. It’s almost second nature at this point. Eddie doesn’t think twice when it comes to having Buck’s back. It’s intrinsic to him. 

His hand remains holding onto Buck’s, caressing the cold skin softly. The silence from earlier rings through the room for a few moments more before Maddie breaks it again. 

“I think he’d really appreciate it that you sat with him.”

“”M just—looking out for him.” Eddie brushes it off. “Just wanna make sure he’s okay.”

Finally letting tears fall, Maddie exhales, “Thank you, Eddie, again. Really” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. He keeps his head down. Maddie reaches over to grab his free hand, willing Eddie to meet her eyes. He does, feeling his own tether on his emotions growing weaker. 

“I mean it. All of it. You guys are lucky to have found each other,” she says. 

Eddie can’t help it. It must be something about Maddie’s Older-Sister-esque nature. The waterworks from before he tried so hard to hide begin to fall again, and before he knows it, Maddie’s rounding the corner of the hospital bed to pull him into her arms. 

“I can’t lose him,” Eddie admits in a voice that’s almost foreign to him. The words themselves feel foreign as well.

Maddie strokes his back. “Me neither, but we won’t.” 

Eddie decides to put all his trust that he doesn’t give away so easily into Maddie’s words. 

Because Eddie can’t lose him. There is simply no future for him and Chris without Buck. 

∘₊ ☆──────☆₊∘

Eddie can feel his heart breaking in two seeing Buck like this, and he can’t help but blame himself.

He saw the signs, yet he let Buck convince him that everything was fine. But Eddie should’ve known better. He could tell something was wrong with Buck. He just wanted to believe Buck was okay. Eddie needed to. 

But he wasn’t, and maybe Eddie should’ve pushed harder when he had concerns. Every other time he’s sat by Buck’s bedside, it’s been because of something Eddie can’t control. It’s always because of something on the job.

This time was different, though. Eddie was there in New Mexico. He saw what Buck went through. He should’ve seen that Buck wasn’t coping well. He should’ve questioned him more afterward. 

Eddie felt so guilty for even doubting Buck, but he should’ve just trusted his gut. If he had, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Buck wouldn’t be on suspension right now. He could’ve gotten the help he needed before it had gone too far. 

Eddie thinks he may always live with the regret of that—just something new to add to the ever-growing list. 

It’s his fault. It was his responsibility to check in on Buck. He should’ve known better. 

So now Eddie anxiously paces the hallway outside of Buck’s bedroom. Everything that needs to be done has been done; the only thing they could do now is wait. Eddie should probably rest with the others—they transformed Buck’s living room into a makeshift pillow fort for a reason, but he can’t. He’s restless. 

Eddie’s broken from his spell by the sound of Buck’s bedroom door opening. Chimney stands there, laptop in hand, looking exhausted. 

“How is he?” Eddie asks a second later. 

Chim lets out a weary sigh. “Struggling to sleep.” 

“Did he throw up again?”

Chimney shakes his head. “No, but he’s still a little green around the gills.” 

Eddie nods a little erratically. He tries resisting, but he’s speaking before the words even have time to process in his mind. “Maybe I should—”

“I think he’d like that,” Chimney cuts him off. He briefly places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder before disappearing down the hallway to join the others.

Eddie commits, making quick work of grabbing some anti-nausea medicine from his medic bag and a glass of water. He knocks on Buck’s door, hopefully not too loud as to wake him if he’s managed to fall asleep. Eddie hears no response, but enters anyway. 

The room is covered in the warm glow from the lamp on Buck’s nightstand. It juxtaposes the coldness of the stuffy air. The blackout curtains are drawn to try and hide the setting sun, yet it still manages to peek through. Blankets and pillows are scattered across the floor and hanging off the edge of the bed. In the middle lies Buck, rocking back and forth with his eyes squeezed tight. 

The sight sends a painful sting directly to Eddie’s heart, another crack breaking. He swallows it down and crosses the threshold of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. 

“Hey,” Eddie calls out. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” Buck murmurs back, the low light revealing just how exhausted he looks. He slowly blinks his eyes open to watch Eddie navigate over to the chair by his bedside. “Shouldn’t you be?”

Eddie places the glass down and nudges the chair closer to Buck. “Can’t either.”

Buck’s gaze remains pinned on him, watching Eddie intently. From this angle, Eddie can see the tiredness in his eyes. They’re puffy and red-rimmed. There’s sweat pooling down his forehead too, clinging to the dark curls there. As much as Eddie wishes he could reach back and push the hair off Buck’s face, he has to hold himself back.

“You don’t have to do this for me, Eddie,” Buck says in a quiet voice. It’s underscored with the need to brush off care. Buck’s been doing it all day. Whenever he’s had enough energy to feel guilty over how they’ve all ended up here, he rushes to claim he’s okay. 

Eddie knows he’s not. It’s a side-effect of the shame. The feeling that you can carry it all on your own—Eddie’s familiar with it. He’s not about to let Buck bury himself under it. 

“I don’t have to do anything. I want to,” Eddie emphasizes. “Here.” He hands Buck the glass and the meds.

Eddie watches as Buck takes and swallows them down without a fight. His mind wanders in the quiet of the room. It takes him back to New Mexico, seeing Buck collapse to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut. It’s almost like every time Eddie closes his eyes now, the scene plays on repeat in his mind. 

It’s funny, Eddie has seen Buck battling the brink of death far more times than he can count. He’s held his breath as Buck has run into burning buildings without permission. He’s sat in every hospital waiting room chair across the city as his mind imagines the worst. He’s cleaned up enough cuts and bruises across Buck’s freckled body than he’s liked. 

And yet, something about what happened in New Mexico changed things. 

When Eddie saw Buck, alive, crawling over to him, the only thing that rang through his mind was Oh, I love him. 

The love has always been there, bubbling under the surface, just out of Eddie’s line of sight. He couldn’t see it until Buck was falling to the dirt ground with a taser in his hands, fresh wounds on his skin, and a determination in him that prevailed until the end. Eddie knew in that moment that all he’s ever wanted has been right in front of him this whole time. He was just blind to it, walking around with his eyes closed and his heart kept in the dark. 

Years have passed by without Eddie ever having a sense of what has been brewing between him and Buck. A love and a partnership that knows no bounds. A fight for each other that breaches any sense of sanity. It grows deeper, infecting the roots of the trees and sprouting leaves. 

He loves Buck. He’s in love with Buck. There’ll never be another person for him like Buck. 

And frankly, Eddie doesn’t want there to be. The way he feels with Buck is something he’s never felt for anyone else before, maybe not even Shannon. The clarity he feels in his chest whenever Buck’s eyes meet his. The car rides home from the station when they’re too tired to even speak. The safety and serenity of sitting in silence on the couch. 

The scariest moments of life don’t feel so scary for Eddie when Buck’s by his side. It’s what gave him the will to drive away from Buck to patch things up with Christopher. Without Buck’s unwavering support, Eddie would’ve never brought himself to put his foot on the gas—even if a part of him still felt like it was dying inside, leaving Buck. 

Eddie can see a future there. Him, Buck, and Christopher living under one roof. Family meals together at the dining room table. Driving to work every day, holding hands across the car console. Slow kisses late at night that lead to something more. 

Getting to grow old together. 

But none of that is important right now. The only thing that matters at this moment is Buck getting back on his feet. A confession of love can wait until Buck is feeling alright again. That matters more to Eddie than anything else. 

The tip of Buck’s finger circles the rim of the glass as he looks down bashfully. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he says. 

Eddie hates the words. He hates the way in which Buck says them: guilt-ridden and full of shame. He can’t even meet Eddie’s eyes as he stares down at his still-shaking hands. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, bud,” Eddie answers. “We just—We want you to be okay. That’s all.”

Buck shuffles around in the bed, as if the reassurance makes him uncomfortable. It’s his usual reaction whenever he’s at the centre of care, no matter the situation. He hated being doted on after the lightning strike. But Eddie doesn’t take that approach with him. Not even back then. He knew it wasn’t what Buck needed. It’s not what he needs now either. 

Buck just needs someone within reach to answer his call. That’s who Eddie is. That’s what he’s trying to do—to be that person in reach for Buck, whenever he finally realizes he needs it. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Buck confesses in a low voice. “I didn’t want to, I just—”

“I’m not blaming you for that, Buck,” Eddie interrupts him. “Nobody is blaming you for anything, so you gotta stop blaming yourself.” 

A tear rolls silently against Buck’s blotchy cheek. He wipes it away with the back of his hand as he blinks rapidly. Eddie hands him a tissue, which Buck cautiously takes before finally meeting his eyes. 

“I mean it. You were struggling. I knew you were too, but I—” Eddie swallows. “I wanted to believe you when you said you were okay. I should’ve known better.”

“That isn’t your fault.” Buck’s quick to correct. 

Eddie doesn’t know how much of that he really believes, but he doesn’t say that.

“Just like how everything that happened in New Mexico wasn’t your fault,” he says instead. 

Buck sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Not maybe,” Eddie corrects. “You went through a lot, even if you still won’t admit it. It doesn’t matter if it was for a day—you were still kidnapped, Buck. That doesn’t go away overnight. And it’s not your fault.”

Another tear spills from Buck’s eye, yet he nods along anyway. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says a little more convincingly than before. 

“This won’t go away overnight, either. But that’s what we’re here for—As a family,” Eddie says. “You know this. You’re not fighting this alone.” 

“Like the chain of command?” Buck repeats Eddie from earlier. It’s more lighthearted than his tone before. Less breathy. Almost like his spark is daring to peek through again. 

Eddie huffs a small laugh. “Exactly. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

“It—It feels like too much,” Buck confesses in a soft voice. 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. “Nothing about loving you is too much.”

The words are honest, something Eddie tries to always strive for with Buck, even when it sometimes feels like too much. Eddie’s never been the best with words, mainly because he never really knows how to say how he feels. 

But with Buck, it just comes easy. 

Buck’s eyes are wide when they finally meet Eddie’s again. They’re still tear-filled as he says, “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You’ve done enough thanking me to last a lifetime. You don’t need to anymore, man.”

“Well, you keep doing things that make me wanna say it,” Buck states. 

“That’s just what we do though, right?”

Buck nods surely. “Yeah,” he says, then lets out a weak snort. “I pull you out from gunfire, and you… ride a horse through the desert for me.”

Eddie huffs. He kind of regrets recapping that part of his New Mexico endeavor. Though it’s nice that it’s slowly turning into something they can joke about now. That, and the shooting. These tragic things that happened to them that just become stories now. 

“One of those sounds significantly less cool,” Eddie says. 

“I know you’re not talking about the horse. That’s some Disney Prince shit,” Buck jokes. It’s nice hearing him laugh again, even if it’s more subdued and breathy than usual. Eddie will take what he can get right now. 

“Does that make you the damsel in distress?” he retorts. 

Buck squints at him, the tears from moments ago disappearing. “I wouldn’t call myself a damsel,” he protests. “And I held up pretty well, I’d say.”

Eddie nods. He knows it’s true. Buck did, in fact, stun a man with a taser while fighting his own injuries. That’s not nothing. 

“No, I’m kidding. You always do. All that muscle isn’t for nothing,” Eddie says. He loses the battle against his own self-control and pokes Buck’s bulging bicep, making him squirm deeper into the comforter. It’s kind of an adorable sight, seeing him sinking into the pillows with a light smile on his face. It’s so different from his demeanor earlier. A sense of pride bubbles in Eddie’s stomach knowing he did that. He made Buck grin again, even if it wasn't as bright as usual. 

“Exactly,” Buck says. “We take turns almost-dying. You’ll need this muscle soon enough when it’s your turn.”

Eddie lets out a chuckle and knocks on the wood of Buck’s bedframe. “I’ll be sure not to walk into peril anytime soon.”

“If you do, I’ll be there,” Buck promises in a low voice. 

Eddie can barely help the lovesick look he knows must be present on his face. “I know you will be. I’m counting on it.” 

However, the brief moment of contentment ends when Buck’s grin quickly turns. His face pales almost instantly, as if he’s about to be sick again. His grip on the bedsheets tightens and his eyes squeeze shut. It’s a look of anguish, one that Eddie recognizes—and despises on him. 

Eddie moves quickly, concern driving his movements, to hand Buck the glass of water from before. Buck swallows it down roughly before collapsing back down in the bed. All the exhaustion catches up to him at once. 

“You should try and fall back asleep. You’ll feel better after,” Eddie says, noticing just how weary he looks again. 

“Mm, maybe,” Buck murmurs. The fleeting hint of joy from before vanishes. He clutches his stomach, turning to his side, and pulls the comforter back up to his chin. Eddie turns the lamp off as he does so. 

But instead of standing up from his chair to allow Buck to sleep alone, Eddie grabs a spare blanket from the edge of the bed. He wraps it around himself, crossing his legs and lying back in the armchair. 

“What are you doing?”

Eddie wriggles around in the chair, attempting to find a position that’s at least a little bit comfortable. “Gonna sleep.”

“There?” Buck questions. “You can’t sleep there, Eddie. You’re gonna kill your neck.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie brushes it off. He’s not ready for Buck to be out of his line of sight anytime soon. He probably won’t be for a long time. A lifetime really, if it were up to him. 

“Don’t be stubborn,” Buck complains.

Eddie ignores Buck’s protests. He finally finds a position that is somewhat comfortable in the armchair and closes his eyes.  “Go to sleep, Buck,” he mumbles.

Giving up the fight, Buck huffs. He turns around in the bed and faces his back to Eddie. Eddie can’t help but peek an eye open to watch how Buck’s shoulders move with every uneasy breath he takes. He’s still shaking slightly, despite the mountains of blankets upon him. Eddie’s stare is unwavering, fearing that if he looks away, Buck could disappear. 

The room settles into silence, only broken by the muffled sounds of their friends down the hallway and the harshness of Buck writhing in the bed. After what must be only a couple of minutes, Buck speaks again.

“Can you…” he begins, but trails off. “Never mind.”

“Buck, you can ask me for anything. You know that.” 

Buck hesitates, but eventually he turns over his shoulder to ask in a faint voice, “Can you hold me?”

Something washes over Eddie. It’s familiar, reminders of his heart clenching over the last eight years, of how he feels every time Buck is near. He doesn’t hesitate to nod his head as he bites back a grin. 

Lifting the blanket for him, Buck moves over to the other side of the bed and welcomes Eddie in. Eddie happily follows in his lead, lying against the pillows that smell only of Buck. He waits patiently as Buck’s gaze stays pinned to the ceiling above, breathing growing rapid. 

Eventually, Buck shifts. He turns to Eddie and finally meets his eyes. He’s reluctant; it’s clear. Eddie won’t allow that right now, not after the day Buck’s been through. He swallows down the uncertainty that always swims within him whenever he craves to be in Buck’s orbit, and pulls him in, wrapping an arm around Buck’s shoulders as he rests his head on Eddie’s chest. 

They remain like that for a while, with Buck’s unsteady breath ghosting over Eddie’s skin as he softly rubs Buck’s back. It’s meant to be comforting, but it still doesn’t calm Buck’s shaking body. That only makes Eddie intensify his grip. 

“Am I allowed to say it one last time?” Buck whispers into the hollow of Eddie’s neck. 

“Mmh?”

“Thank you,” Buck says in a voice so faint and quiet that Eddie isn’t entirely sure he was supposed to hear it. 

Eddie can’t respond. Any words within him get choked up. He fights to hold back tears of his own that have been threatening to spill since Chimney informed the team of Buck’s situation. Instead, his hand moves from Buck’s back to the hair curling the nape of his neck as he sniffles silently. 

Buck sniffles too, into his shoulder. “I—I mean it, Eddie. Without you, I’d be—”

Eddie shushes him. “It’s okay,” he manages to whisper back. “We’re okay. Everything will be okay.”

Buck seems to accept this, maybe even believing it. Slowly, his breathing eases out as he finally falls asleep. Eddie does so too without even realizing it, too busy tracking Buck’s pulse from the point on his neck. 

And for once, when Eddie closes his eyes, he doesn’t see memories of Buck collapsing to the ground in New Mexico. Now, he sees a new future. One with the two of them standing side by side with their family—just as they always should be.

Eddie wakes up sometime later to a soft knock on the door. Buck is still lying glued to his side, not having even moved a muscle, still using Eddie practically as a pillow. Eddie has to lean his chin over Buck’s curls to catch a glimpse of Hen standing in the doorway. 

“Thought you would’ve fallen asleep,” Hen says, not loud enough to wake Buck. “I can relieve you if you want. I think Ravi’s planning on lighting the fire pit soon.” 

Eddie’s gaze drifts from her silhouette to Buck’s sleeping form. He can’t help but gently caress the wild curls off his forehead. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m right where I want to be.” 

Hen gives him a grin. “Of course,” she says before softly shutting the door again, cloaking the room back into darkness. 

Despite this, Eddie stays watching Buck. His arms are still wrapped around Buck’s torso despite the sweat that clings to their skin. Really, Eddie doesn’t mind it. He only focuses on the feeling of Buck’s breath grazing over his neck. It’s a reminder that he is alive. 

They’re not out of the thick of it yet, but something tells Eddie that everything’s going to be alright. Buck will be alright, and that’s what matters. 

∘₊ ☆──────☆₊∘

As Eddie shoulders the door open to the bedroom, all he hears is a sneeze loud enough to almost startle the hot bowl of soup out of his hands. Not just one sneeze though—multiple, rapidly firing off, somehow the next always stronger than the last. 

It would be concerning if he wasn’t so used to hearing it for the last eight years. 

“You sneeze like a dad,” Eddie says as he gently places the bowl of soup onto the bedside table. The ground is littered with snotty tissues. Eddie picks a fresh one from the tissue box to hand to Buck, who blows into it remarkably loudly. 

“Comes with the territory, apparently,” Buck says nasally before collapsing back into bed and throwing the tissue on the ground. Usually Eddie would have a go at him for this, but considering he has a temperature over a hundred, Buck gets a pass today. 

“Nah, you’ve always sneezed like that,” Eddie comments. And really, one could say Buck’s always been a dad even before Theo came into their lives. Buck may have only started fostering Theo three months ago, yet he wouldn’t be classified as Buck’s first kid. 

Everybody knows that title belongs to Christopher. 

The last couple of months since Buck and Eddie finally got their shit together and stopped dancing around the fact that they’re in love with each other have only proved that tenfold. The three of them are a family, as they’ve always been, just with a new addition now. 

And it’s everything Eddie could’ve ever wanted. It’s everything he didn’t realize he could have. But now he can, and he will do anything in his power to protect it. 

Even if it’s just from a common cold. 

Eddie reaches to press the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead. The skin is burning to touch. Still, he asks, “How are you feeling?”  

“Fine,” Buck lies. 

Eddie tuts. “You don’t look fine.” At that, Buck can barely hold back a nasty cough. “Or sound fine.” 

“Rude,” Buck stutters out, his cough still lingering. His voice is raspier than usual. Though there’s an adorable pout on his face as well, one that Eddie has been known not to resist. Usually he’d kiss that pout away, but today he has to hold back. 

It may be one of the toughest struggles of his life. 

“Just stating a fact, bud,” Eddie grins, smiling down at Buck. He grabs the thermometer and sticks it out to Buck. “C’mon,” he orders, but Buck shakes his head stubbornly. “Buck.” 

“‘M not sick,” Buck argues but sniffles simultaneously, which defeats his whole point. 

“Your temperature was over a hundred before.”

“Lies. The thermometer lies,” Buck coughs out. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but because he’s a good boyfriend, he passes Buck his glass of water to help clear his throat. “I’ll be sure to tell CVS that.” 

“Mm, you should get a refund,” Buck says after swallowing. “It might be faulty.” 

Unable to help himself, Eddie chuckles at his silly antics. God, he loves this man and his adorable stupidity. These last two months together have been some of the most joyful of Eddie’s life. It took them a while—a really long while—but Eddie wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

He loves how their story has turned out. 

“Okay, baby, I’ll do that,” Eddie jokes, maybe a little too fondly. 

But the smile Buck gives him, clearly pleased with himself, is reward enough, even if technically Eddie’s losing the battle. It doesn’t matter though—only Buck’s unadulterated happiness is important. After what they’ve been through in the last year, he deserves this. 

Going for gold, Buck puckers his lips up to Eddie and waits to be granted a kiss. Though, as much as it physically pains him to deny, Eddie shakes his head.

That only makes Buck’s frown from before grow more intense. “Why won’t you kiss me?” 

As an apology, Eddie strokes his fingers through the hairs curling at Buck’s temple. “Because you’re sick, you idiot. And one of us needs to stay alive to keep these gremlins in check,” he answers, whispering the last few words and pointing his head to the doorway. Last he checked, Chris and Theo were sprawled across the dining room table, with Chris finishing the last of his geometry homework while Theo aggressively colored in a drawing of what Eddie thinks was meant to be a chameleon. Still, he’d rather not be overheard. Dramatics run in the family. 

Proving so, Buck lets out an exasperated sigh. “Wow, won’t even kiss your own boyfriend, and now you’re insulting him. You’re a heartless person, Eddie Diaz,” he says with a squint. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but still leans down to give Buck a small kiss on his burning forehead instead as a compromise. 

“Mm, so evil, I know,” he says in a low voice, and because he can’t help himself, grants Buck another forehead kiss. “Keep insulting me, and you won’t get any chicken soup.” 

“I don’t need chicken soup because I’m not sick,” Buck insists. 

“No?” Eddie questions. He grabs the bowl again and pulls it away from Buck. “Guess I’ll just take this back to the kitchen then.”

Buck huffs. “Give me that,” he orders while making grabby hands.

Eddie chuckles, but happily complies and sits on the empty side of the bed. He wraps the bowl in a tea towel he brought from the kitchen and carefully places it in Buck’s awaiting hands. However, Eddie grabs hold of the spoon before Buck can, and lifts it to his jaw-dropped mouth. 

Buck seems less than pleased with this, but deep down, Eddie knows it’s just an act. Buck loves it when Eddie’s being too much. He’s confessed it even, late at night when he thinks secrets are safe. 

Still, Buck grumbles, “I can feed myself.”

“Humor me,” Eddie jokes and blows the steam off the soup. “I like taking care of you.”

After a lifetime of both of them fending for themselves, Eddie takes pride in doing this for Buck—to dote on him, the same way Buck does for him. When Eddie had a light stab wound from the hospital lockdown a few months ago, Buck wouldn’t even let him out of his sight, and they weren’t even dating yet. Last week when Eddie twisted his ankle on a call, Buck insisted on carrying him to bed. It’s just what they do for each other. 

And it’s nice. Eddie’s never had this connection with anyone else. He’s never allowed himself to draw back his high walls keeping everyone out. But with Buck, it’s second nature. 

Buck shakes his head, but he can’t hide his grin either. “I know you do, weirdo,” he teases. 

“Guilty,” Eddie concurs. He doesn’t even fight it. It would be pointless to do so anyway. Buck’s had him wrapped around his finger since day one.

He lifts the spoon to Buck’s mouth. “Open up.”

Buck groans one last time, but still listens. He swallows down the spoonful, looking almost pained as he does so. Eddie pauses, waiting for a sign to continue. Buck grants it. 

The two sit in comfortable silence as Eddie feeds him the soup. It’s one of his Abuela’s old recipes. He’s been studying them recently, with Buck being a helpful mentor in the kitchen. This one he knows he’s aced, as even the kids seem excited when he served it for lunch earlier. 

Sometimes, Eddie wishes she could’ve seen the life he’s made since her passing. It hasn’t even been a year, yet he feels like so much has changed. But also, not really. Sure, he and Buck now live together with another kid running around the house, but at the end of the day, they’re still their same selves. The love they have for each other has always been there. It’s just now transformed. 

Abuela would’ve liked to see that.

Bobby would too.

At least Eddie can guarantee the two of them are smiling down on him and Buck now. He wouldn’t be surprised if either of them had an inkling for this inevitability. He likes to think that they did. 

After placing the empty bowl back on the nightstand, Eddie asks, “Do you need anything else?” 

A soft look crosses Buck’s face, like sometimes he can’t believe either that he could be this lucky. Buck grabs Eddie’s hand and interlocks their fingers, squeezing it like he always does. Eddie will never get sick of the giddy feeling it brings him. 

“Eddie, I’m okay. Stop worrying,” he promises. 

“Worrying is my default setting,” Eddie replies. He squeezes Buck’s hand back. “Especially when it comes to you.” 

Buck lets out a soft laugh at that, but it quickly turns into a cough again. 

“Lie down, bud,” Eddie says, adjusting the blankets for him. 

Buck does so, trying to get comfortable, which shouldn’t be too difficult considering the mountains of pillows behind his head. He looks nothing short of homey and warm, wrapped up in their bed. When Buck finally settles, he gazes up at Eddie with doppy eyes. They’re a little red from the sneezing, but mostly, they just look love-sick. 

Eddie really wants to fucking kiss him. 

“Hey,” Buck whispers. He draws the tip of his finger across Eddie’s forearm, making his hair raise from the sensation. “I love you.”

Eddie can’t fight it anymore. He gives in, pressing a small peck to Buck’s lips. It’s only a fleeting moment, not risking anything more, but it’s enough to hold Eddie over, lest he start ripping his skin off from the desire. 

“I love you, too, even when you’re stubborn,” he mumbles against Buck’s lips before pulling away. 

But the way Buck lights up makes it worth the inevitable cold Eddie’ll get next week. 

“You kissed me,” he says excitedly. 

“Well, you’re just so irresistible,” Eddie answers. 

“But now you’ll get a cold.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “Thought you weren’t sick?”

Buck waves him off, eyes slowly blinking close. “Mm, maybe you should lie down with me to make sure. I might wither away without you.” 

Eddie laughs. He can’t argue with that logic. “Move over, baby,” he says before lying down in the bed too, spooning Buck from behind and digging his hands under Buck’s sleep-shirt to rest them on his bare stomach. The skin is hot to touch, but Eddie doesn’t mind. “Only for a bit, though. I promised Theo we’d bring out the paints again.”

It’s Theo’s new obsession, graduating from what he claims are boring crayons. Though he’s only allowed to use them outside on the grass. He still hasn’t mastered the ability of keeping the paint on the page. 

“That reminds me, we gotta clean the mess he made on the fence,” Buck mumbles. 

Case in point. Buck turned his back on him for two seconds last week and Theo decided the fence—and his shirt—would look better painted orange and green. 

“I kinda like it,” Eddie says. “It’s grown on me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe we should let him paint the whole thing. Gotta hone in on those artistic abilities now. Maybe he’ll be the next de Vinci.”

Buck chuckles lightly at that, only choking on a small cough. “As much as I’d love that, you know we can’t let him get away with everything.”

Eddie hums in thought. “He’s been doing good, though. Diedra thinks so too.” He rubs his hand down Buck’s stomach, noticing the self-doubt Buck still feels when it comes to Theo. Eddie knows it’s a never-ending thought as a parent: that you’re not doing enough. He tries to ease it for Buck as much as he can. “You’ve been doing a good job with him, Buck. He’s lucky to have you.”

Buck’s hand finds his again. “It’s not just me. I couldn’t do this without you and Chris,” he says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t want to, either.”

Eddie shares the sentiment. One of the greatest pleasures of his life is getting to raise a family with Buck. The ring he has hiding in the back of his locker at work proves it. He wants this. He wants them to adopt Theo together. He knows that the four of them are already a family, but he wants it set in stone and solidified. 

Eddie leans over Buck’s shoulder to press a kiss to his birthmark. “We do make a good team.” 

A knock on the bedroom door interrupts them. 

Eddie grins. “Speak of the devils.”

The door opens to Christopher standing there and Theo bolting past him into the room. Chris rolls his eyes light-heartedly as Theo giggles. He runs over to Buck’s side of the bed and almost pounces on him in excitement. 

“Careful,” Eddie warns. 

Theo pauses, tilting his head and staring at Buck curiously. “What’s wrong with Buck?” he asks. 

“Buck is sick,” Eddie answers. 

“No, I’m not,” Buck grumbles defensively. 

“Yes, you are,” Eddie retorts. Buck’s grip on his hand tightens in retaliation. 

With much struggle, Theo climbs onto the bed, practically sitting on Buck’s outstretched legs. He studies Buck’s face hard, little eyebrows furrowing in focus, for signs of sickness, it seems. It’s an adorable sight. 

“You look sick,” Theo concludes.

Buck hides a cough into the side of his pillow, eyes bulging out of his head. “Geez, thanks, Teddy.”

“He’s right, you do,” Chris says, joining them on the bed by Eddie’s side. “You look worse than Dad did when he almost drowned in a well.” 

Eddie chuckles at that. He’s glad his son finds his near-death experiences entertaining. 

Buck huffs. “That cannot even be possible.”

“What’s a well?” Theo questions. What seems to be his favorite word lately, next only to Why, with how often he repeats them. 

“Uh, it’s like a hole in the ground to reach water underneath it,” Buck explains. 

“Can I go in a well?”

“No.” 

Theo’s pout is almost identical to Buck’s earlier. “But Eddie did,” he argues. 

Buck’s head turns to meet Eddie’s eyes for a split second, almost asking Do you wanna take this one? 

Eddie grants him a shit-stirring grin. A sign for You got it, bud. 

Buck sighs before answering, “You can’t do everything Eddie does.” From beside him, Chris lets out a snort. Eddie holds himself back from doing the same.

Somehow, Theo’s frown intensifies. He really is a carbon copy of Buck. 

“Why not?” he asks. 

“Because… Eddie is bigger than you, buddy,” Buck says, stroking his arm. 

“I’m five,” Theo answers like it’s a valid argument. 

“You should ask Dad how old he is,” Christopher jumps in. 

Eddie takes offence to that. “Hey! I’m young.” 

“You’re unc,” Chris says.

Now it’s Buck’s turn to hold in a snort—except it escapes him anyway. 

Eddie’s brows furrow. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly, unc,” Chris repeats with that cheeky smile he gets whenever he’s teasing his dad or Buck. “Anyway, wells are boring, Theo. You know what’s cool? A lake.”

Theo lights up in an instant, immediately forgetting anything about wells. Which—thank God. Eddie would like both of his children to remain far, far away from any wells. 

“I wanna go to a lake!” Theo cheers, jumping on the bed. Really, he’s just jumping on Buck and Eddie’s feet and almost tripping over them. The sight brings a smile to Buck, though, despite the attack on his shins.

“We can totally go to a lake. One day,” Eddie promises. It’s not actually a bad idea. Eddie loved the lake by his parents’ house growing up. He knows Chris did too. He’d love to share that with Buck and Theo as well. 

“Tomorrow?” Theo asks. 

“Mm, maybe. If Buck feels better.”

“Buck isn’t sick,” Buck exclaims again. 

Eddie squeezes his side. “A side effect of the fever must be talking in the third-person.” 

Buck glares at him. He opens his mouth to retort, but Theo beats him to it. 

“Can we watch Lego Movie?” he asks, pointing to the TV mounted on the wall. They’ve watched this movie at least a thousand times in the last month. It’s unfortunately become one of Theo’s favorites, at least for Christoper, who complains every time that the annoying song gets stuck in his head. 

Before answering, Eddie sends Buck a quick look to check if he’s up for it. But he’s already nodding along and stretching his arm out so Theo can squeeze in between the two of them. Knowing Buck though, he’ll probably pass out ten minutes into the movie. 

“That’s a great idea,” Eddie says to Theo and grabs the remote from his bedside table. “Joining us, Chris?” he asks, giving Chris an out if he wants it. 

But Chris doesn’t take it. He nods his head and sinks into Eddie’s other side, leaning against his shoulder. It’s a tight squeeze with the four of them in the bed, but somehow that makes it even better. Maybe Eddie should be more cautious about the boys potentially catching Buck’s cold, but he can’t find it in himself to worry about that right now. Not when he has his whole family wrapped up together, safe, and in one piece. 

Across Theo’s head, Eddie’s eyes meet Buck’s. He’s never looked happier either, mouthing a small Thank you to Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know what Buck’s thanking him for this time. It could be for everything or for nothing in particular, but it doesn’t matter. His being by Buck’s side is the only thing that matters.

Eddie rolls his eyes and mouths back You’re welcome. 

Then he sneezes, just as he suspected. Buck lets out a laugh that quickly turns into a cough before grabbing Eddie's hand again.