Archive of Our Own

The first nightmare starts at 1:13 am on a Wednesday. Buck knows because he checks the clock the second the crying hits the monitor.

Not just crying, but screaming. Blood curdling and intense, ripping through the house in the middle of the otherwise quiet night. So panicked and terrified that it cuts right through the white noise that Buck had become so accustomed to over the years of sleeping primarily alone. 

He's out of bed before he even really understands what he's doing, his sleep addled long limbs launching him down the hallway and across the small living room, heart in his throat when he throws open the door to what used to be his old guest and storage room, now littered with toys, books and glow in the dark stars stuck to the stark white ceiling he hasnt gotten a round to painting yet. 

"Theo–"

He nearly slips on the space between the tile and carpet just trying to get into the room. To get to the toddler that's still crying bloody murder. 

Theo is sitting bolt upright in bed when Buck bursts in, dinosaur pajamas twisted around his legs, little hands fisted so tightly in the blanket his knuckles have gone white. His face is wet with tears. Blue eyes that are usually full of mischief are big and wide, wet and absolutely wild. Confused. Terrified. 

"No no no no–"

"Hey, hey, buddy." Buck drops to the mattress immediately. "I'm here. You're okay." He reaches out but the toddler seems to pull back automatically and Buck tries not to let that cut him down to the core. Diedre had warned him about that. Theo pulling back, going into his own head, wanting the parents that won't be coming back. It's all too much for one little head to comprehend. 

“Theo–hey–hey it's okay–its– kiddo–”

Theo doesn't seem to hear him. He's breathing too fast, too focused on the feelings versus the reality around him. And Buck recognizes it for what it is almost instantly. Panic attack. 

How can a four year old be having panic attacks? It's not fair. 

Theo shoves himself backward until he hits the wall, shaking hard enough the bedframe rattles.

"They're gone," he sobs. "Mommy's gone–” he babbles and Buck's chest caves in. 

Three weeks.

It's only been three weeks since the accident and Diedre saying they were going to look for an emergency placement while they found the next of kin. Three weeks since the active shooting at the hospital and his best friend being stabbed and watching how everyone seemed to have someone to go home to, someone to take care of and nurture. Three weeks since Buck made the decision to foster, to take Theo for as long as he needed, whether that was two months, two years, or forever. Three weeks since he decided that the only way honor his friends and to fulfill what they had asked of him so long ago was to take in this fragile, beautiful, perfect little life. 

And now there's a four-year-old sobbing himself breathless in the bedroom across the hall because he still doesn't understand why his parents aren't coming home and Buck– he's always loved kids, always been good with them, but he doesn't even begin to understand how to handle something like this. 

Buck swallows hard and inches closer carefully.

"Theo, look at me."

"No!" 

Buck keeps his voice gentle anyway and inches just a bit closer, basically throwing his body across the small twin bed. "Buddy, you gotta breathe for me, okay?"

Theo shakes his head violently.

He looks so small. Too small for grief like this. Too small to understand the big, giant feelings that are causing so much pain that he can't physically understand. 

Buck tries everything over the next 20 minutes. Breathing exercises Hen taught him. Water like the trauma therapist suggests. Cartoons on the iPad to try and distract. The stuffed triceratops Chris had insisted Theo needed after meeting him the first time.

Nothing works.

Every time Theo calms even slightly, something drags him right back under again.

"They left," he cries into Buck's shirt eventually, body trembling so hard Buck can feel it in his own bones.

And that's–

That's the one that breaks him. Because Theo doesn't mean it like an accusation like an older child might. He just sounds confused and devastated. Like he can't fathom the why behind his mom and dad not coming to pick him up from this extended sleepover. He's fully lost to it and he doesn't understand what he was a part of and what he truly saw. it could be years before he starts to really understand. At least that's what the therapist keeps saying. 

Buck closes his eyes hard for a second, just trying to orient himself. He doesn't know what to do. He's exhausted, steeped in his own grief and completely out of his depth. 

"They didn't leave you, Theo."

"But they're gone."

"I know." Buck's voice cracks around it. "I know, buddy."

Theo just starts crying harder at that and Buck feels helpless in a way he hasn't since the lightning strike. Like he's floating with nothing to lean on. 

He can handle blood. Fires. Collapsed buildings. He can pull people from wreckage with his bare hands if he has to. But this? This tiny child folded into himself from grief Buck can't fix? He doesn't know what to do. He feels equally as lost as Theo looks. 

Eventually the toddler exhausts himself enough to drift into a fitful sleep against Buck's chest around three in the morning. Buck stays there another hour anyway, not daring to move him. 

Just in case.

—

The second nightmare happens two nights after the first and it's equally as terrifying. 

Then another the next night. Then two the night after. It's weeks of it; Theo waking up like clockwork around 1am screaming bloody murder. Even Maddie can't handle it the two nights it happens and she has him when Buck works his first 24 since starting the arrangement. She offers to get him in contact with a new therapist and it still does nothing. 

Buck stops sleeping. Not even intentionally. It just…happens. Every creak of the house has him jerking awake. Every sound from the monitor he refuses to get rid of sends adrenaline flooding through him so hard it makes him nauseous.

He starts drinking so much coffee his hands won't stop shaking. He forgets meals, mostly making sure Theo get something at night and sometimes Buck doesn't eat himself unless he's being forced to at the station. He shows up to shifts with dark circles under his eyes big enough that Hen finally corners him in the locker room one day with worry etched deeply into her face. 

"You look terrible."

"Wow. Thanks."

"Buck."

He scrubs a hand over his face. "Theo's having nightmares."

Hen's expression softens immediately.

"Oh."

"Like..." He laughs once, humorless and raw. "Really bad ones and I dont–Ive been trying to handle it, but it's–nothing is really working.” 

Hen leans against the lockers.  "Are you getting any sleep?"

"Some."

That's enough answer for her and she narrows her eyes at him, leveling her best ‘mom glare.’

"Buck."

"I'm handling it!” He snaps. 

Hen just gives him a look. And maybe normally Buck would argue. Normally he'd push back. But he's too tired.

"Sorry,” he relents immediately. “I just–i don't know what the hell I'm doing.”

Hen's face gentles further at that, a deep sense of understanding passing over her. "You're not supposed to know everything right away."

"I should know how to get a toddler to sleep."

"No, you should know how to be a firefighter. Which you do." She nudges his shoulder lightly with a chuckle. "The parenting part takes time and you havent had him that long, Buck. He's been through something traumatic and that's not your fault.” 

Buck stares at the floor.

"What if I'm messing him up worse?"

Hen sighs softly. "You loving him is not messing him up.”

It still doesn't feel like enough.

—

The bad night happens on a Thursday.

Buck knows it's going to be rough before bedtime even starts. Theo is clingy all evening and doesn't want him out of sight, Buck not even able to close the bathroom door when he finally has to succumb to his incredibly human needs, like a full bladder. He even has to let the little boy color on the tile floor when he showers. 

By nine, Buck is already so exhausted that his skin literally hurts everywhere. He starving but there's no groceries that are more substantial than a box of Kraft and a few frozen nuggets since he slept through his only afternoon off just trying to catch up in some way. 

Theo falls asleep on the couch halfway through a movie, curled against Buck's side with one tiny hand wrapped in Buck's shirt. He lets them lay there for an hour before attempting a bed transfer. It goes successfully, Theo never waking as Buck tucks him in. 

Then he waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

He finally dozes off around midnight. The clock hits 12:47 and Buck jumps awake to screams, heart jackknifing. He all but throws himself off the couch since he didn't bother going to his own room, rushing into Theo's room where the toddler is halfway out of bed and crying so hard he's hiccuping between shallow breaths. 

"No car!" Theo screams when Buck tries to approach him. “No car! No! No! Bad!"

"It's okay"

"No car!"

Buck scoops him up before he can fall, Theo immediately clinging to him with desperate strength.

Buck's trying.

God, he's trying.

But he's so tired.

Theo keeps sobbing into his neck, terrified and inconsolable, and Buck can feel panic beginning to crawl up his own spine now too.

He can't do this.

He cant. 

He–

Theo wails again and Buck bounces him automatically, pacing the living room now because staying still feels impossible. 

"It's okay. You're okay. I've gotcha."

Theo's breathing keeps hitching violently.

Buck looks at the clock again.

1:26. It's been almost an hour. That can't be right. But he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror against the wall and…yea…maybe that is right. He looks bone deep tired, dark bags under his eyes and hair askew in every direction. He's pale and he knows that he looks absolutely out of his depth. He is out of his depth. He needs help. 

He needs–

Before he can second guess himself, he grabs his phone. The answer comes on the second ring and Buck's feels it takes weight off of his shoulders immediately. 

"Buck?"

His throat closes instantly at the sound of the voice and he can't get the words out, just a bitch of breath as Theo continues to sob himself hoarse. 

Eddie wakes up fast after that. "What's wrong?"

"I–" Buck drags a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do."

Silence for a moment. Some shuffling around and then, 

"Is Theo okay?"

"Nightmare." Buck laughs shakily and he's surprised it doesn't come out as a sob. "Another one and I can't– can't get him to calm down and I know it's late and I'm sorry–"

"Buck."

That voice. He's heard it a thousand times. Steady and certain under incredible pressure. Calming for patients and little kids and apparently Buck himself who's so rattled he's surprised that it gets through to him. 

“I'm so tired, Eddie.” He presses his eye shut as he says the words, barely able to keep a grip on his phone. 

"We're coming over."

"You don't have to–"

"We're coming over."

The line disconnects before Buck can even attempt to argue again. 

Theo cries himself sick ten minutes later, Buck barely managing to get him to the bathroom in time. Afterward Theo just wilts completely, exhausted and clammy and miserable in Buck's arms. And Buck just sits on the bathroom floor holding him and whispering what he hopes are calming words into his curls while his little body trembles. 

He always wanted children. He always wanted to be a father. He just– he feels so out of his depth. And he knows, he knows that no one is ever ready to be a parent but there's a difference between preparing for nine months and wrapping your head around the unexpected and taking in a traumatized toddler who didn't know you existed six months before. It's too much and he doubts himself more than he ever has before and– 

"I'm sorry," Theo whispers.

Buck's entire chest caves in. "Oh, buddy." He kisses Theo's hair. "You never have to apologize for this."

A knock sounds at the door and Theo stares hard, Buck feeling it like an electric shock through both of them. 

"It's okay," he murmurs quickly. "It's just Eddie."

Theo looks at him with big eyes as he's carried to the door. “Chris too?” He asks, the h coming out more like a w with his lisp and Buck wants to melt into the floor. 

Eddie's already standing in the living room in sweatpants and an old LAFD hoodie, Christopher beside him looking sleep-rumpled and concerned by the time Buck makes it across the small living space. 

The second Buck rounds the corner, Eddie's expression changes. Buck knows what he looks like. He looks frantic and wrecked, probably out of control. 

"Hey," he says gently, reaching out and putting hand on Theo’s back in that calm, beautiful way that Eddie has with kids. 

And God.

Buck almost loses it right there. 

“I brought Chris,” Eddie says gently and Theo buries himself a little further into Buck's shoulder. “You wanna say hi?”

Theo lifts his head slightly and looks around, blue eyes landing on Chris as quickly as possible. And it's not that Buck doesn't trust Christopher, of course he does. He'll never say it out loud in fear of overstepping, but he'll always see Chris as his first baby. The first kid he actually got to kind of be a parent to, not just dads friend or a cool uncle. In many ways the 16 year old standing in front of him prepared him more than anything else for becoming Theo's dad. But, he's still sixteen. And he holds his breath as Chris looks up at the terrified toddler in his arms and speaks. 

“I used to have nightmares too, peque.”

Buck blinks. That was not even on the list of things he thought might come out of the teens mouth. The Spanish endearment tacked onto the end almost elicits a sob and he peeks over at Eddie who also looks a little misty eyed. 

Christopher shifts his crutches awkwardly. "After my mom died,” he adds as Theo keeps looking at him. 

The world goes quiet around all of them. Theo quiets a bit, listening intently, and Buck thinks both he and Eddie may have stopped breathing all together. 

Chris's voice stays matter-of-fact in the way teenagers sometimes manage around devastating things when adults cant. 

"I thought if I fell asleep, something bad would happen again."

Christopher steps closer slowly. "Do you wanna see something?"

Theo doesn't answer.

Chris pulls a battered stuffed shark out from under his arm. It's an old aquarium stuffy, the little emblem on the tail almost unreadable now. Buck remembers it. 

It was one of the first outings Eddie had ever invited him on. It was a few weeks after the earthquake and Eddie had been so grateful that he–he just invited Buck along on their family outing and Buck had been smitten immediately. He didn't even know that Chris still had that stuffed animal, that he even remembered that trip. It was only a few weeks before Shannon's death, a few months before the tsunami.

"I still sleep with this sometimes and it helps keep all the bad things away."

Buck nearly laughs from sheer emotional whiplash because of course Christopher still has that stupid shark and of course it still meant something to him. 

Theo finally lifts his head a little more to Chris who is holding out the shark. 

"You can borrow him. I don't mind."

Theo hesitates for a moment before reaching for it carefully, little fingers curling around a battered fin with such gentleness that Buck's chest twists so hard it physically hurts. 

Eddie catches his eye over Theo's head.

You okay? That look says.

Buck shakes his head before he can stop himself. Because he isn't okay and he doesn't want to lie, not to Eddie. The other man's face softens  immediately and he nods, gesturing over to the couch where Buck is finally able to deposit Theo without him screaming. 

Christopher settles onto the couch beside him and eventually little snuffles fill the room, Theo's sleeping head in Chris’s lap while the older boy cards fingers through his hair and he grips onto the toy shark like a lifeline. 

“You okay, mijo?” Eddie asks, grabbing at Chris's precariously balanced crutches to place them up against the wall. 

The teenager just nods, also looking like he might fall asleep at any second and Eddie nods back before dragging Buck around the corner and into the kitchen to start two cups of tea while Buck starts to unravel. 

"You should've called sooner," Eddie says quietly.

Buck laughs weakly. "Didn't exactly feel like I was crushing this. Maybe I didn't want anyone to see how bad I am at raising my own kid."

Eddie turns to look at him fully.

"Buck."

"I can't fix it."

The confession comes out rougher than intended. He knows how Eddie sees him. Knows that he's always the one that wants to fix things and wants to help. Admitting that he can't? Eddie knows that's basically admitting defeat.

"He's four, Eds."

"I know."

"He cries until he throws up and I don't know what to say and sometimes he looks at me like he thinks I can bring them back somehow because he's four and I cant– I– can't–"

His voice breaks against the words. Damn it. He looks away, too concerned about what Eddie might see in his eyes and on his face. 

Eddie just moves closer without hesitation trying to stop Buck from sinking into himself. 

"You are doing so much better than you think you are."

Buck shakes his head. "You didn't hear him."

"No, but I hear you. And I know you, Buck. You're doing– you're doing better than probably anyone else would be able to.”

Buck laughs once shakily and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"I'm scared all the time,"  he finally admits. "What if I can't do this? What if one day he realizes I have no idea what I'm doing and he–what if he grows up and he hates me?"

Eddie's answer comes instantly.

"Every parent feels like that. Hell, I'm pretty sure Chris has actually hated me for periods of time. You work through it and you do your best. This isn't something that other parents don't also go through.”

Buck snorts. "Yeah, except most parents don't get handed a grieving preschooler overnight."

"No." Eddie's voice gentles further as he affirms him. "Most parents don't. But you're doing better than most of them would if they were in your shoes. You're doing better than I think I could, if we're doing honesty hour here."

"I just don't wanna fail him."

Eddie steps closer again until their shoulders nearly touch. "You won't."

"You can't know that."

"I do."

Buck finally looks at him then, chances a glance. Eddie's eyes are steady just like they always are. They're warm too, soft in that way he gets when he wants Buck to really see him and understand the pure honesty that he's approaching the situation with. 

"You love him already," Eddie says simply. "That's the important part. You ghosted his parents because you loved him and didn't want to make a mess all over their lives. You've loved him for his entire life, he just gets– he gets to experience it now. "

Buck feels dangerously close to crying now. Which is, objectively, ridiculous. He's in his mid 30s. He's a firefighter. He's survived being struck by lighting, a tsunami, a deranged kidnapper in the middle of New Mexico, and at least a dozen other near death experiences that would have taken anyone else out at the knees. And yesterday somehow, one quiet kitchen and kind, gentle words spilling past Eddie's lips are enough to undo him 

A small laugh drifts from the living room and Buck glances over automatically. He's used to Theo waking up even after getting him to bed, but he's not used to this. To Chris showing the toddler something on his phone while tiny hands stayed clutched around the fur of a stuffed shark that can't go more than 2 inches from his chest. For the first time all night, maybe for several nights now, Theo isn't crying. 

"He really likes Chris," he says softly.

Eddie hums at that. "Chris likes him too."

Buck watches Theo lean carefully against Christopher's side and the older kid doesn't even hesitate before shifting closer. It's as natural as breathing and something warm and a little painful blooms in his chest and creeps under his ribs as he watches the two of them interact like they've known each other their whole lives like they're family. 

He doesn't realize he's smiling until Eddie says quietly, "There he is."

Buck rips his eyes away from the couch and sees how Eddie is looking at him with that expression again. The one that's always a little too soft and a little too intimate. A little too honest about something neither of them has ever really acknowledged. 

Buck's breath catches, he opens his mouth and he hears the loud yawn that Theo emits, causing both of their attention to be diverted back to the kids. 

Christopher looks toward the hallway. "Can I try putting him back to bed?"

Buck hesitates automatically. Not because he doesn't trust Chris, but just because Theo's become terrified of being alone at night and if Buck can't get him to sleep then how is Chris supposed to? But then Theo looks at Chris with big, tired eyes and nods sleepily, causing Buck's heart to twist again and nod mutely at the request. 

Christopher stands carefully, grabbing his crutches from next to them with ease. "C'mon."

Theo grabs his hand through the slats in the crutches and Buck watches with Eddie as they disappear down the hallway together, as if this is every night in the Buckley household. 

Eddie leans back against the counter beside him and waits until silence falls and just the drone of white noise can be heard from down the hallway. 

Neither of them speaks for a minute as Buck stares at the dim kitchen light reflecting off the sink, creating patterned halos on his granite countertops.  

Then quietly, so soft that he's almost sure that Eddie misses it, but the words spill out completely unguarded and he feels the other man go still next to him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Buck huffs out a breath, trying to get it all out before Eddie inevitably attempts to interrupt. "Seriously. You and Chris you just–you show up and suddenly everything feels possible again. I feel like–like I can actually be successful at something like this.” 

Eddie watches him carefully and Buck just shakes his head a little with a half hearted laugh. 

 "Sometimes I think you should just move in."

He's joking. Or, at least he thinks he is until the words settle between them and suddenly the idea doesn't feel ridiculous at all.

It feels–

They've been dancing on the edge of something for a while now. Years maybe. It was easy to ignore when they were younger with less responsibilities and when Buck was quicker to danger and throwing himself off a cliff for approval. It hasn't been that way in a long time now. And Buck knows, he knows that there's love there. Maybe on Eddie's side it isn't what it is for Buck. He'd be okay with that. He would. He doesn't think there's anyone else he could love the way he loves Eddie, but he'd live. 

But sometimes, Eddie looks at him and Buck thinks…maybe, just maybe, it's reciprocated. Maybe he feels the same, but they're both just too scared to take the step. Buck doesn't know if he wants to be scared anymore. 

Eddie's expression changes slightly at the words, softening into something almost unbearably fond. “You know," he says quietly after a beat, "you practically helped me raise Chris."

Buck blinks at that. Because yea, he's felt like that too. Thinks that what he's done for Chris is what helped him truly take that step with Theo. He simply never thought that Eddie saw it too. 

Eddie shrugs one shoulder as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You were there for all of it."

Buck opens his mouth. Then closes it again. He doesn't have an argument, because it's true. From school pickups to homework. Hospital visits and physical therapy appointments. Movie nights and holidays. It's been years of loving Chris without a second thought. 

Eddie looks down briefly before meeting Buck's eyes again.

"So... maybe this is just us returning the favor."

Buck's chest tightens painfully at that. Us. Not me, but us. As if Buck and Theo slot perfectly into the little bubble that Eddie created around him and Christopher more than a decade ago. The bubble that he didn't even want Shannon to poke her way back into. The bubble he'd reinforced to keep out Anna and Marisol. Eddie had simply let Buck walk right through it, dragging Theo alongside him. And now here they are. All four of them. Together. 

Buck feels the way that the room shifts after that, like a physical way of telling them to get on with it. It feels like standing at the edge of something enormous and realizing one more step changes everything. Bucks nervous, but he can feel that Eddie is too, the way his breathing changes slightly. 

From the hallway comes the faint murmur of Christopher's voice, then silence again. 

"They fell asleep fast,” Buck states around the lump on his throat. The kids are safe conversation. They always are. 

Eddie smiles softly. "Chris always was good at that. Kid can sleep anywhere.” 

Buck laughs quietly but he refuses to look away this time. Neither does Eddie. The kitchen suddenly feels very small and very warm. Buck watches as Eddie's gaze flickers briefly to his mouth, his heart skipping a beat with it. 

"Oh," he says before he can stop himself. Because they've never gotten this far before, it's never felt so close or tangible to him. 

Eddie's expression goes startled for half a second and then a little shy. It's shocking, honestly. Buck has seen this man walk into burning buildings without blinking or stand calmly on the wrong side of a gun. But this? Apparently this makes him nervous and that realization steadies Buck more than he thought it could. 

"Eddie."

Eddie exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

"Yeah."

Buck steps closer before he can overthink it. "If I kiss you right now," he says softly, "is that gonna make things weird?"

Eddie lets out a breathless laugh.

"Buck," he murmurs, "things have been weird for years."

Buck laughs too. Because what else is he supposed to do? 

And then Eddie kisses him, inhaling the laugh right from his mouth and knocking Buck slightly off balance. 

It's gentle at first. Overly careful. It's like both of them are still trying to figure out if it's even real, if it's truly happening. 

Then Buck's hand slides instinctively to Eddie's waist and Eddie makes this quiet sound in the back of his throat that absolutely ruins him. The kiss deepens almost automatically, Eddie groaning into Buck's mouth and letting their bodies slot together instead of holding back ant longer. It's all slow and syrupy and bucks feels it untethered completely but also somehow settled. It's like warm honey dripping down his insides, like something that's been off balance for a while suddenly righting itself. 

When they finally pull apart Buck's forehead drops against Eddie's automatically, like it's an instinct to not pull away. 

They're both breathing hard but Eddie kisses  him again anyway laughing against bucks mouth as he breathes out a hushed “wow” into the negative space between them. 

"Yeah."

Buck smiles helplessly and kisses him again. And then again. And then again. They kiss until Eddie is backed up against the fridge, a few magnets scattering against the floor as his head falls back and Bucks teeth find an easy home at Eddie's throat and then his exposed collar bone. Eddie's fingers thread into his hair and he bites his bottom lip to silence a breathy moan. 

It's then that Buck pulls back, eyes heavy and lidded and dark. He knows what he wants and it's Eddie. And now that he knows Eddie wants him back? He wants to ravage him, take him a part on the kitchen counter and– he presses himself between Eddie's legs that open automatically so Buck can slot their bodies together again, testingly grind his hips down and– he pulls back and immediately sobers, putting his hands on Eddie's chest and pushing him back a bit as the shorter man tries to chase his body.

"The kids are asleep like twenty feet away and I just made out with you in the kitchen,”  Buck says in horrified shock. “I was just grinding you against the fridge our four year old gets his milk from!” 

Eddie snorts. "Very scandalous."

Buck grins despite himself and then he feels the dread creep up in his chest, faltering slightly.

"Eddie..."

"Hm?"

"I meant what I said."

Eddie studies him carefully. "About moving in?"

Buck nods once, the vulnerability of it nearly killing him. Because he doesn't just mean whst he said. He means all the things he hasn't. Because he wants all of it. Slow mornings wrapped up in each other until they're interrupted by two kids who want waffles, and Chris stealing the last piece of bacon before any of them can even try to fight for it. He wants Eddie in his kitchen ruining his favorite pan with blackened shreds of whatever was supposed to be dinner. He wants family dinners and movie nights and domesticity so terrifyingly soft that Buck barely knows what to do with wanting it all this badly. 

Eddie's eyes go impossibly tender as he stares at Buck, unknowing if the war the younger man has going on in his head. 

"You sure?"

Buck laughs weakly. "I don't think I've ever been more sure of anything, honestly."

Eddie stares at him for one long quiet second, then reaches up and cups Buck's face gently. “Well…in the spirit of honesty.” He smiles something tebder that Buck's not ever sure he's seen before. “I'm sure about it too. We'll figure it out.”

We.

Buck could cry again.  Instead he kisses Eddie once more. It's softer this time, more intentional. 

And somewhere down the hall, Theo sleeps curled against Christopher for the first full night since Buck brought him home.