Work Text:
Buck woke to the sterile white of a hospital room and a pounding in his skull. There was a rhythmic beep somewhere about his head, steady and unrelenting.
The dull ache in his chest turned each breath into a war, one he felt like he was losing.
His body was heavy. Everything hurt. His mouth was dry.
There was a soft plastic line taped to the back of his hand, an IV bag hanging nearby. The bandage across his ribs pulled uncomfortably with every shallow inhale.
He didn't remember much from the rescue.
Just smoke, screaming, and that moment when the floor gave way and the only thing between him and a five-story drop had been his grip on a beam already splintering beneath him.
He'd gotten the victim out. That much he remembered.
They'd been pinned under a metal shelf. Young, maybe a teenager. Buck had crawled into the fire for them and had barely managed to haul them out before the flames had cornered them.
The last thing he remembered was pushing the kid towards the exit and turning back for someone else.
He thought there was someone else. Maybe there hadn't been.
Maybe that part was in his head. Maybe he just wanted there to be someone else, some justification for what he had done next. Because it was always easier to explain the recklessness when it was done for someone else.
The room was quiet, except for the steady beep of the monitor and the low hum of the fluorescent lights.
Eddie was sitting beside the bed. Silent and still, his hands clenched between his knees like he was afraid of what might come out if he opened his mouth.
He was in street clothes. Dark jeans, a hoodie, boots with soot still on them, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. There was stubble on his jaw and bruises under his eyes. His whole body was coiled like a spring, like he was only staying seated by sheer will.
Buck hated the look on his face. It was worse than anger. It was disappointment.
"Hey," Buck croaked, his voice like sandpaper dragged across his throat.
Eddie's head snapped up like he'd been pulled from deep water. His eyes were wild for a moment, scanning Buck's face as if he wasn't sure he was really awake.
"You're awake," Eddie said, his voice rough. He looked tired but his eyes were sharp and angry, even if he was holding it back. "How do you feel?"
"Like a house fell on me." Buck tried to shrug, but the movement sent a spike of pain through his chest. He winced and gave a strained laugh instead. "What am I? The Wicked Witch of the East?"
Eddie's expression didn't change.
"You were lucky," he said, voice tight. "Again."
"You don't sound so happy about it." Buck tried to lighten the mood but Eddie didn't smile.
"I got the kid out." Buck frowned, uneasy.
"You also went against orders," Eddie said, and his voice was clipped, too calm in that way that meant he was furious underneath.
"I knew there was someone in there." Buck's jaw tightened. "I wasn't going to just leave them."
"There wasn't anyone else in there," Eddie bit out. "You imagined someone, Buck. You went back in on a hunch, in a building that was literally coming down around you. You ignored orders."
"I made a call," Buck shot back, defensive now. "I saw something, I thought someone was–"
"You disobeyed direct orders from command," Eddie snapped, standing now. He started to pace, running a hand through his hair. "You went in after we were told to pull out. That wasn't a judgement call. That was reckless."
"You weren't even there–" Buck protested.
"I was there!" Eddie yelled, turning on him. "I was right behind you and watched you disappear into the fire after Bobby said to fall back. Do you have any idea what that looked like from the outside?"
"I wasn't going to let someone die just because we thought the building wasn't safe." Buck bit out.
"It wasn't safe," Eddie said, voice hard. "It collapsed twenty seconds after we pulled you out. You weren't being a hero, Buck. You were being a goddamn idiot."
"So that's what I am now?" Buck recoiled like he'd been slapped. "An Idiot?"
"You almost died," Eddie spit out. "Again. And you expect me to just sit here and act like it's fine?"
"So now you're mad at me because I didn't listen?" Buck laughed bitterly, glaring at the ceiling. "Is that what this is about?"
"This is about you not giving a shit about what happens to you." Eddie growled.
"Don't twist this into some self-destructive narrative–" Buck's eyes flashed.
"You're twisting it!" Eddie shouts. "You always do! You always have a reason, a justification, a 'gut feeling', but it always ends the same way, Evan. You get pulled out on a stretcher, and we're the ones left wondering if this is the one that kills you."
"I did my job," Buck said, voice rising. "I saved someone."
"You disobeyed a direct order." Eddie repeated. "You put your life and the team's lives on the line because you thought there might be someone in there."
"There could've been–" Buck began.
"There wasn't," Eddie cut him off. "There never was. We double-checked. Triple-checked. And now? You're lucky you're not in the morgue."
"Well, I'm not," Buck said, chest heaving now, the monitor behind him started beeping faster. "So maybe get off my back."
"Get off your–" Eddie stepped back, stunned. "Jesus, Buck. I'm not on your back, I'm trying to make you hear me. You can't keep doing this. You can't keep acting like the rules don't apply to you, like you're the only one who gets to decide what's worth the risk."
"No one else was going to go back in!" Buck continued defensively.
"Because they weren't supposed to!" Eddie's voice cracked with frustration. "Because orders matter. Because risking your life on a maybe isn't brave, it's selfish!"
"You think I'm selfish?" Buck flinched, like that word hit too deep.
"I think you don't think about what it does to the rest of us," Eddie said, softer now, but it didn't make it hurt any less. "To Chris. To Maddie. To Hen, Chim, Bobby, Athena. To ME. Every time you pull this crap, we're the ones left waiting to see if you made it out. You think we don't care? That we're just going to accept that this is who you are?"
"I'm not trying to be anything!" Buck snapped. "I just saw a chance to save someone and I took it! Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"
"We're supposed to survive," Eddie said, deadly quiet now. "We're supposed to trust the plan. Trust each other."
"I did what I had to do." Buck replied stubbornly.
"No, Buck," Eddie said, shaking his head. "You did what you wanted to do. Like always."
Buck opened his mouth to say something. Anything, but nothing came out. His fists curled tight in the hospital blanket. His whole body was shaking, not just from the pain, but from fury and shame and the feeling of being misunderstood again.
Eddie stared at him a moment longer. Then something in his expression shifted, something weary and raw and wounded.
"I can't do this right now," Eddie muttered.
"What– Seriously?" Buck scoffed. "You're just gonna walk out?"
"I'm gonna walk out before I say something I can't take back." Eddie replied, truthfully.
"Too late." Buck glared at him.
Eddie didn't respond. He just turned on his heels and walked out, the door swinging shit behind him with a quiet, devastating click.
And Buck was left alone. With the pain in his chest, the ache in his head, and the silence that felt heavier than the fire ever did.
//////////
Three days later, the bruises on Buck's ribs ached every time he breathed too deep. His forehead was stitched, his shoulders wrapped, and he was under strict instructions not to return to duty for at least two weeks.
He was discharged on a Thursday afternoon, just before the sky turned gold with the beginning of sunset. Maddie picked him up from the hospital in her car, the trunk already stocked with his favorite snacks and a soft blanket was folded on the seat beside him.
He barely said two words the entire ride home.
Maddie didn't push. Not yet.
What she did do was glance at him occasionally, concern wrapped in silence. She had seen the report. Everyone at the 118 had. The words 'against orders' had been burned into the summary like a brand. No one said it out loud, but Buck knew what they were all thinking.
And Eddie... well. Eddie hadn't been by since the night of the fight. Not once.
Buck had checked.
He didn't ask Maddie to drive him back to the loft because he didn't want to be alone, not with his own thoughts echoing around the silence of his empty apartment. Instead, he let Maddie bring him to her and Chim's place, promising it would be just for a couple of nights until he could manage stairs better.
When they finally reached her place, Maddie got him out of the car and inside where she made up the couch for him.
Buck stared at the ceiling that first night for hours, phone in hand as he stared at Eddie's contact, but he never hit send or call.
By Friday, everyone had stopped by. Hen, Bobby, Athena, Karen, even Ravi. But no Eddie.
And Buck? He pretended not to notice. He kept his answers clipped and his smile fake as he told them he was fine and that he just needed a few more days. Maybe Eddie was busy with Chris.
But the truth was simpler.
He was avoiding Eddie. And Eddie, it seemed, was letting him.
He didn't go by the firehouse. He didn't answer calls from unknown numbers in case they were from dispatch. He stayed off the group chat. Muted it, actually.
The idea of reading a message from Eddie made his chest burn worse than his fractured ribs.
By Saturday morning, Maddie found him at the kitchen counter with a cup of untouched coffee, scrolling mindlessly through TV channels on her laptop screen.
"He called." She sat across from him, hands folded.
Buck's stomach twisted but he didn't say anything.
"He asked if you were okay. Said he figured you didn't want to talk." Maddie gave him a minute before adding. "Said he'd back off."
"Guess I got my wish." Buck snorted softly.
"Buck," Maddie said gently.
"I don't want to talk about it." He shook his head.
"You need to." She insisted softly.
"Not with you." he replied, harsher than intended.
"You're going to have to see him eventually." She said after wincing but continued to let his comment go. "You work together. You–"
"Not right now," Buck snapped, sharper than he meant again. "Just... not right now."
That night, Buck pretended to fall asleep early.
He laid on the couch and stared at the shadows across the ceiling, listening to Maddie and Chim move quietly in the kitchen.
He thought about how Eddie had looked in that hospital room. Jaw clenched, eyes burning, voice shaking with frustration and something deeper underneath. He replayed every word they said and every word they didn't. Over and over again.
'When are you going to stop making me wonder if you want to be alive?'
The echo of that line dug deep, curled up beneath his ribs where the bruises already bloomed.
He didn't think about what it meant that Eddie hadn't come back, that he hadn't fought harder.
Maybe this was Eddie's line in the sand, and Buck had crossed it.
By Sunday, Maddie left to take Jee to a playgroup and asked if Buck wanted to come. He told her now then he took her spare keys and drove her car to the grocery store across town, the one farthest from the Diaz house. Just in case.
He grabbed soup, Gatorade, granola bars, and a six-pack of beer he'd pretend not to drink. He even lingered in the cereal aisle too long and left without speaking to anyone.
Back home, he turned on a random channel and muted the TV.
When his phone buzzed with a message from Hen, asking if he'd like to come over for a movie night at hers and Karen's, he just stared at the screen until the notification faded, not replying.
By Monday, his chest felt better, but his mood was still the same.
Maddie was more cautious now, watching him like he was made of glass.
Buck hated it. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't... broken. Just pissed. Still.
He spent most of Monday reading a book he didn't care about, zoning out after two pages, and falling asleep during the late afternoon. He dreamt about the fire again.
Only this time, he was alone in it. No victim. No Eddie. Just flames licking up the walls and nothing to hold onto.
When he jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his chest seemed to hum louder than usual. But he stayed silent about it, keeping it to himself.
By Tuesday, it took less than a week for everyone to feel the shift.
Hen had sent him a text that just read: 'You're not fooling anyone, Buck.'
Bobby followed it up with: 'Talk to him.'
Buck ignored them both.
He figured maybe if he kept pushing, if he kept the silence going long enough, it would become permanent. Like scar tissue over a wound he could pretend wasn't still bleeding underneath.
But Maddie cornered him in the kitchen that night, arms crossed.
"You can't live like this forever," she said.
"I'm not," Buck muttered.
"Oh?" she raised a brow. "Are you planning to move to a cave next week?"
"I just..." he sighed and leaned against the counter. "I can't talk to him when I'm still this angry."
"You're not just angry," Maddie said quietly. "You're hurt."
Buck didn't respond.
"I've seen you come back from worse. Physically. But emotionally?" her voice softened. "You shut down like this every time you think someone sees you differently."
"He called me selfish," Buck muttered.
"He was scared." she countered.
"Yeah?" Buck scoffed. "Well, he should've said that instead."
"Maybe he did," Maddie softened gently. "And maybe you just didn't want to hear it."
That night, Buck sat alone on the couch again with his legs curled under him and the remote untouched beside him.
He stared at his phone. There were four missed calls from Ravi, two texts from Hen, and one from Bobby asking if he was up for a check-in later this week.
Still nothing from Eddie.
And that? That was what really hurt.
Because Buck hadn't told him to go. He hadn't said he didn't want him back. Had he yelled? Yeah. Had he gotten defensive? Sure. But somewhere under all of it, under the anger and frustration, he had wanted Eddie to stay.
Or at least... come back.
But he didn't. Not yet.
And Buck wasn't ready to be the one to fix it.
So he didn't text, didn't call, and didn't even ask if they were okay.
He just turned off his phone, curled tighter under the blanket, and stared at the dark ceiling until his eyes finally closed.
And even in sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling of something unfinished hanging in the air.
//////////
Another week later, Buck was back to work. Light duty of course, but still back to work.
It was Wednesday, the station unusually quiet. B-shift was on call and the rest of the team was scattered, some doing inventory while others were out on errands.
Buck moved slower than usual, favoring his ribs as he moved through the locker room. He'd only just been cleared for light duty, but he was already itching to get back.
He was zipping up his hoodie when Eddie walked in behind him.
Buck didn't need to look to know he was there. The air shifted. Heavy.
"I need to talk to you," Eddie said, and his tone was low but firm.
"You're already talking." Buck quipped but didn't turn.
"I'm serious." Eddie exhaled hard through his nose, stepping closer.
"I figured," Buck muttered, still facing his locker.
"What the hell were you thinking, Buck?" Eddie's voice sharpened.
There it was.
"I was thinking someone needed to get that kid out," Buck snapped back, spinning around. "And I was right. He wouldn't have made it if I hadn't–"
"You wouldn't have made it." Eddie cut him off. "You nearly didn't."
"But I did." Buck stated.
"That's not the point!" Eddie protested.
"Then what is the point, Eddie?" Buck's voice was rising now, the tension in his chest making it worse. "That I should've waited? That I should've stood there doing nothing while someone died?"
"I'm saying," Eddie said, stepping into Buck's space, eyes locked on his. "That you keep throwing yourself into danger like you don't care what happens to you."
"Jesus," Buck flinched. "Not this again."
"Yes, this again." Eddie growled. "You don't get to keep brushing this off."
"I'm done talking about this." Buck moved to walk past him, but Eddie grabbed his arm.
"No, you're not. Not until you tell me why." Buck yanked, but Eddie didn't let go. "Why do you keep doing this?"
"Because I'm not reckless with my own life, Eddie." Buck glared at him. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" Eddie replied, voice icy. "Let's talk about the factory fire. You gave your air mask to the victim even though you knew you couldn't breathe without it."
"They were going to die." Buck's jaw tightened.
"And you almost did." Eddie countered.
"I made a call." Buck defended for what felt like the millionth time. "I would do it again."
"What about the sniper?" Eddie shook his head, stepping closer.
Buck's shoulders stiffened.
"I talked to Bobby," Eddie said. "He told me how after I got shot, you put yourself in the open, going against orders, to rescue a victim. You didn't even give him time to decide who was gonna go up, you just did it. No hesitation. While the sniper was still active."
"There was no time. I was the only one fast enough to get to them." Buck looked away. "The crane–"
"Bullshit!" Eddie cut in. "You went up there because you didn't care if you got shot as well. You disobeyed orders, just like in the factory fire and just like you did two weeks ago. You keep doing this, Buck!"
"You think I do this for kicks?" Buck crossed his arms, face closing off.
"I think you don't value your life the way you should." Eddie stared at him.
"You think I want to die." Buck's voice broke through after a beat of silence, low and bitter.
"I think you don't care if you do," Eddie said, softer now. "And that scares the hell out of me."
Buck scoffed and turned away again.
"You remember what you said to me," Eddie said suddenly, voice like a knife cutting through the air. "After I woke up from being shot?"
Buck didn't answer.
"You said it would've been better if it had been you. That Chris would be better off. That I would be better off." Eddie stated.
"I didn't mean–" Buck began.
"Yes, you did." Eddie continued. "And it broke me. Because you still think you're expendable. And no matter how many times I tell you, you don't believe me."
"I'm not talking about this anymore." Buck turned.
"You don't get to shut down on me, Buck." Eddie stopped him again. "Not this time."
"You think I want to die?" Buck said again, quieter after another beat of silence. "You really think I don't care?"
"I think," Eddie said carefully. "You stand on this line between life and death like you're just waiting for a strong wind to push you one way or the other."
Buck stared at the floor.
"I think you don't want to die," Eddie continued. "But I also think... you're not scared to do so because you still believe what your parents told you."
Buck's head jerked up.
"That you're a waste of space. That you don't belong here. That you're nothing more than disposable spare parts." Eddie's voice softened but didn't lose its edge. "And somewhere deep down, you believed them. And you still do."
Those words hit harder than any fall ever could. Buck's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"You're not expendable, Buck. You never were." Eddie stepped forward, gentler now. "You're broken. And I'm so tired of watching you risk everything like it doesn't matter."
"I just wanted to help." Buck's throat worked around the lump that was formed there.
"I know, we all do." Eddie said. "But you don't have to die to be good."
They stood in silence, just breathing. Buck's lungs felt like they'd shrunk in his chest.
The air was thick with the weight of Eddie's words, with all the things they've never said out loud, not like this. Not in a way that felt like ripping stitches open.
"You think I believe that?" He swallowed hard, fighting the ache behind his eyes. "What my parents said?"
"I think you believed it for a long time," Eddie said. "And I think... I think part of you still does."
"That's not fair." Buck shook his head, looking away.
"Maybe not," Eddie agreed. "But I'm not saying it to hurt you. I'm saying it because I'm watching you spiral and I don't know how to pull you out."
"You make it sound like I'm some kind of lost cause." Buck let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"I don't think you're a lost cause." Eddie snapped. "I think you're lost and you won't let anyone help you find your way back."
"That's not true." Buck protested.
"Then let me help you!" Eddie shouted, the sound echoing off the metal lockers. "Let me be someone you trust enough to not run into burning buildings alone, to not offer up your life like it's some kind of goddamn trade!"
"I'm a firefighter, Eddie." Buck clenched his fists, his whole body taut. "This is the job."
"No," Eddie bit out. "That's not the job. The job is saving people without killing yourself in the process."
"I'm doing my best." Buck protested.
"I don't think you are!" Eddie yelled, and the words landed like a punch. "I think you're trying to prove something. Every single time."
"And what exactly do you think I'm trying to prove?" Buck turned on him, angry now, eyes blazing.
"That you matter," Eddie said, quiet and deadly serious. "That you're worth saving, too."
The words hit Buck like a freight train. He recoiled like he'd been slapped, because that was it. That was the heart of it, exposed under fluorescent lights and steel lockers. No armor. No fire to hide behind.
"You saved me. You saved my kid. You saved people who will never know your name. And it still wasn't enough for you." Eddie kept going. "Because no matter how many lives you save, it won't fix the lie your parents put in your head."
"Stop," Buck whispered.
"You keep chasing death because you think if you can face it, maybe it'll make you braver and stronger, that it will mean something." Eddie continues, ignoring his request. "But all it's doing is hurting the people who love you."
"Don't," Buck said again, louder.
"I almost lost you, Buck." Eddie said, voice trembling now. "Do you get that? Do you have any idea what that would've done to me? To Chris?"
"I didn't mean to–" Buck broke then, just a little.
"I know." Eddie said. "But meaning to live and fighting to live are two different things. And you haven't been fighting. Not really."
The silence that fell this time was suffocating and neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Buck sank down onto the bench, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
"You think I want to die," he said again, his voice quiet. "But I don't. I swear, I don't."
"I know," Eddie said, crouching down in front of him. "But you're not acting like someone who wants to live."
"It's not about dying. It's just..." Buck dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. "I don't think about myself in the moment. I see someone in danger, and it's like... nothing else matters."
"You matter," Eddie said firmly. "You matter just as much as the people you're saving. You keep forgetting that."
"I'm not expendable," Buck said, almost to himself, like he was testing the words.
"No," Eddie agreed. "You're not. Not to me. Not to Chris. Not to Maddie. Not to this team, this family."
"Then why does it feel like I still have to prove it every time?" Buck looked up, eyes glassy, voice raw.
Eddie didn't have an answer to that.
"You don't have to prove anything." he finally said. "Not to me."
"You make it sound so easy." Buck let out a breath that was half-sob, half-laugh.
"I know it's not," Eddie said softly. "But maybe we can figure it out together. You don't have to do this alone anymore."
Buck nodded, just once, and Eddie reached out, tentative and gentle, resting a hand on his knee. Buck didn't flinch away. It wasn't everything, not yet. But it was a start.
Buck's hands trembled in his lap. He wasn't crying, not really, not yet, but his eyes stung, and his chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with cracked ribs or bruised muscles.
Eddie stayed crouched in front of him, steady and silent, like was anchoring them both.
"You don't get it, Eddie." Buck's voice was hoarse as he finally spoke again. "You didn't grow up feeling like... like you were a mistake. You didn't grow up and learn after twenty something years of feeling unwanted that out of all the possible reasons your parents could've hated you,, it was because you were spare parts that couldn't do their job."
Eddie didn't interrupt. He just listened.
"I mean, I knew the unwanted part was true. I just didn't know why." Buck laughed bitterly. "You know how I found that out? What my mom said to me when I was eight? She said that she regretted having me. That I was a distraction. A mistake that ruined everything. I couldn't understand at the time, but it all came together when I learned about Daniel. I was finally able to see the bigger picture."
Eddie's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. Not yet.
"I thought maybe I had misheard," Buck went on. "That maybe I didn't understand because I honestly didn't. But then it kept happening. Every time I needed something, every time I cried, or got hurt, or asked for help, it was like I was a burden. Like I was asking too much by just existing."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"And then Maddie left," Buck said, softer now. "She was the only one who ever made me feel wanted, and she left. I mean, I get why she had to, I do. But it still felt like I wasn't enough to stay for. Like nobody ever thought I was worth sticking around for. And it continued to happen. Abby, Taylor, Ali, etc. Over time, my fears became the truth."
"Buck..." Eddie closed his eyes.
"So yeah," Buck continued, his voice shaking. "When some's in danger, when there's a fire or a sniper or a collapse... it's like, that's the moment I know who I am. That's when I feel like I'm finally... useful. Like I matter."
"You matter all the time," Eddie said fiercely. "Not just when you're throwing yourself into harm's way."
"Do I?" Buck looked at him, and there's something fractured in his expression. "Because when I'm not saving someone, I don't know who I'm supposed to be. Why do you think I fought so hard to come back to yall after the truck bombing? Being a firefighter is who I am and it's the only thing I'm good at."
"You're supposed to be you." Eddie replied gently. "That's enough."
"What if it's not?" Buck shook his head. "What if all I'll ever be good at is dying for other people? I mean, technically it's what I was made for. Spare parts."
"You think Chris would want that for you?" Eddie sat beside him now, shoulder to shoulder, their knees almost touching. "You think I would?"
Buck didn't answer.
"I told you once that you weren't expendable. I've even said it multiple times within this very conversation." Eddie said. "That still stands. But I think I get it now, I think you don't believe me. You don't believe anyone. And I get why, Your parents poisoned that part of you. But I'm still here, Buck. And I'm not going anywhere."
"It's hard to believe people will stay." Buck stared straight ahead. "Even when they say they will."
"I stayed," Eddie said. "So did Maddie, Chim, Bobby, Athena, Hen, Karen, and even Ravi."
Buck let out a soft snort despite himself.
"We all stayed. And we're going to keep staying." Eddie nudged him lightly. "Because you're not just part of the team, Buck. You're family. You're part of us. Of me."
"What are you saying?" Buck's head turned slowly to look at him.
"I'm saying that I love you, you idiot." Eddie's voice was quiet, but steady. "And I'm scared out of my mind that one day I'm going to watch you run into danger and you're not going to come back. And I'll never get the chance to tell you that again."
"You–" Buck's breath caught in his throat. "You love me?"
"Yeah. I do." Eddie gave a small, sad smile. "I think I have for a while."
Buck's mouth opened and closed, like the words wouldn't form.
"You don't have to say it back. Not until you're ready. But I needed you to hear it." Eddie reached out again, this time cupping the back of Buck's neck, grounding him. "You're not a mistake, Buck. You're not broken. You're not expendable. You're mine. And you need to start treating yourself like someone worth loving."
Buck's eyes spilled over as silent tears trailed down his cheeks. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Eddie's shoulder, letting himself break.
Eddie wrapped his arms around him, firm and warm, holding Buck together the way no one ever had before.
They stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for the locker room to grow quiet again. Long enough for Buck's shaking to slow, his breath growing steady.
"I want to believe you." Buck whispered eventually. "I really do."
"You will," Eddie said softly. "One day at a time."
"You're kind of bossy when you're worried." Buck pulled back, wiping at his eyes, and giving a small, tentative smile.
"You're kind of reckless when you're not." Eddie smirked.
They both laughed. Quiet, raw, and real.
Buck stood, a little unsteady, and Eddie rose with him, their hands brushing but not quite clasping.
"Let me take you home," Eddie said.
Buck nodded as they left the locker room together.
////////////
The drive home was quiet. Not awkward. Just... quiet.
Eddie didn't press for conversation. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting close to the gearshift, like he was ready to reach out if Buck needed him again.
Buck didn't say much, his eyes turned toward the window, watching the lights blur past, his body exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with his healing injuries.
When they pulled into Eddie's driveway, Buck hesitated before getting out.
He didn't ask if he's staying. He didn't have to. He was already here.
Inside, the house was dim and calm. The couch throws were rumpled, a pair of Chris's sneakers were kicked off by the door, and there was a single cup in the sink.
Home. Not perfect, but real.
Buck stood awkwardly in the living room, arms wrapped loosely around himself.
"Do you want tea or anything?" Eddie gestured toward the kitchen.
"I'm okay." Buck shrugged.
Eddie didn't argue. He walked over, grabbed two waters from the fridge anyway, and tossed ome to Buck without asking.
"Thanks." Buck caught it reflexively.
"Chris is staying at Carla's tonight." Eddie said after a moment. "She offered to keep him so you could rest."
"You told her I'd be here?" Buck asked.
"I told her someone important needed rest." Eddie explained softly. "She put the rest of the puzzle together on her own."
Buck went still. Something softened around his eyes, and he nodded once before sinking onto the couch.
Eddie joined him, leaving a bit of space between them at first. Not because he wanted to, but because Buck still looked like was carrying something delicate and heavy, and Eddie wasn't about to be the reason it cracked.
They sat like that for a while with a muted TV in the background, two water bottles on the coffee table, and the quiet hum of a life that kept moving.
"You meant it?" Buck eventually broke the silence.
"What?" Eddie turned toward him.
"That you love me." Buck stated.
"Yes." Eddie's answer was immediate. "I meant it."
"I think I've been in love with you since the day you told me there's one you'd trust more with Chris than me." Buck looked down at his hands, twisting the cap of his water bottle open and shut. "After the tsunami."
Eddie sucked in a breath.
"I didn't know it then," Buck added, voice barely above a whisper. "Not really. But when you didn't come back right away, I thought I was gonna break apart."
Eddie didn't hesitate this time. He slid across the couch and gently reached for Buck's hand.
Buck let him.
"You held me together that day," Buck murmured. "And I've been holding my breath ever since."
"You can breathe now." Eddie intertwined their fingers.
"I think I'm starting to." Buck looked up, eyes glassy again, but he smiled.
"Good." Eddie nodded.
The silence between them this time was warm.
Buck shifted a little, turning towards Eddie.
"I want to get better," he said. "I don't know how yet. But I want to."
"You're already on your way," Eddie said. "You don't have to do it all at once."
"You'll stay?" Buck leaned his head against Eddie's shoulder.
"For as long as you'll have me," Eddie said.
They sat like that for a long time, hands clasped, bodies close, the worst of the storm behind them, the future uncertain but no longer so alone.
Buck eventually drifted off like that, his head still on Eddie's shoulder, his breathing even and slow.
And Eddie didn't move. Not for a second.
He just watched him sleep and thought, 'This is what living looks like. This is what loving looks like. And I'll remind him every day until he believes it, too.'
//////////
The next morning, Eddie woke up to a crack in his neck and the faintest glow of the early morning pressing against the blinds. It took him a second to realize why the couch felt heavier than usual, why his arm was numb, why his chest was warm.
Then it clicked. Buck.
Buck was curled against him, head tucked into Eddie's shoulder, their hands still loosely linked like they had been when he drifted off. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. His lips parted in sleep, his curls a mess against Eddie's t-shirt.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, maybe months, Eddie felt a calm settle into him. Like things were okay, even if just for that moment.
Careful not to wake him, Eddie shifted, sliding his arm free.
Buck stirred but didn't wake, his body instinctively curling into the couch cushion.
Eddie watched him for a beat, then shook his head with a soft huff of affection.
He deserved better than a stiff couch.
With slow, deliberate movements, Eddie slid an arm under Buck's knees and the other around his back. He then lifted, bridal-style, grunting softly at the awkwardness of maneuvering his long, heavy frame.
Buck mumbled something incoherent, his nose brushing against Eddie's collar, but didn't fight it.
"Yeah," Eddie whispered, carrying him down the hall. "I've got you."
In the bedroom, Eddie eased Buck onto the mattress, tugging the blanket over him. He lingered for a moment, watching Buck's brow twitch, his body shifting like he was chasing the warmth Eddie took with him.
Eddie hesitated only a second before slipping in beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight.
Buck stirred more that time, blinking groggily until his eyes landed on Eddie's face just inches away. Confusion flickered, then softened.
"Morning," Eddie murmured, voice low and gentle. "Hey, sleepyhead."
"You..." Buck groaned faintly, scrubbing at his eyes. "Carried me?"
"You were drooling on my couch." Eddie smirked. "I thought you deserved better."
"You're ridiculous." Buck laughed, weak but genuine.
"Do you feel okay?" Eddie shrugged, shifting closer, one arm sliding around Buck's waist to keep him settled.
Buck exhaled, considering.
"Yeah. Better than yesterday." his voice dropped a little, more vulnerable. "Better than I've felt in a while, actually."
"Good," Eddie said softly. He lifted his free hand, running it gently through Buck's curls, careful not to tug. The golden strands caught in the morning light. "That's what I want for you."
Buck closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, something unguarded in the way his face relaxed.
Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of his head, lingering there for a beat longer than friends should. When he pulled back, Buck was watching him.
Something shifted between them in that quiet.
Buck didn't think. He just leaned in, pressing his lips to Eddie's. Soft, tentative, and testing.
Eddie stilled only a second before kissing him back, warm and steady, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time." Buck whispered as they parted, forehead brushing against Eddie's.
"Yeah." Eddie smiled against his lips. "Me too."
They settled back down, Eddie's hand still combing lazily through Buck's curls, Buck's fingers tracing idle patterns along Edd's chest. The world outside kept spinning, problems still waiting for them, but here, in this room, it was simple.
Here, Buck was safe. Wanted. Loved.
And maybe, for the first time in his life, he actually believed it.