no thing defines a man (like a love that makes him soft) - dollopversed (2024)

Chapter Text

“ Seems like only last year / You were teaching / Life can fill you with fear / But it ain't just suffering / And now irony would have it / That I teach it back to you. ”

— Irony Would Have It, Matt Maltese

After Christopher left for Texas, Eddie’s had a pretty rough go at processing a lot of his unresolved trauma, as Frank put it. Gerrard and his bullsh*t aside, coming home after a long day of work to an empty house was something he never got used to. Christopher’s presence has been the only stable thing in his life and with it gone, he feels like the world is tumbling into nonsense where down is up, and right is left. He would catch himself slipping sometimes; peeking through Christopher’s door, forgetting momentarily that his son was enjoying the humidity in El Paso and staying as far away from his dad as physically possible. Eddie stepped on one of Christopher’s stray Legos once, sighed so loud, so frustrated, and braced himself to holler to “—please pick up after yourself, Christopher!”, only to be met with silence. It was harrowing, the echo of his voice in their empty home. Whenever it happened, his heart throbs like an open wound doused in alcohol.

It took weeks before Christopher returned his messages, weeks before he even got full sentences out of his son but eventually, Chris had promised him he would come home. He was still hurt. Still Angry, capital A.‘Just not right now.’ He dealt with it — is still dealing with it. He talks to Frank again, a more in-depth discussion about Shannon during therapy. A more honest one. He's cut off Kim after the stunt she pulled (which he supposes he was just as much complicit in), the realization that she wasn't Shannon was something that hit harder than he thought it would. The reminder that Shannon was dead, that she wanted a divorce before her death — the things he let himself forget in a foolish, delusional attempt at a second chance.

His repentance didn't stop there — he apologized profusely to Marisol when things cooled down between them. Their break-up was clean and yeah, he got a punch or two from her brother. But then again, it was due — Marisol didn't deserve to be treated the way Eddie treated her. In fact, the punch had felt good, a physical reminder of his failing, something hard-hitting that fulfilled his anger with himself. And — it was bad. It was really bad, for a while.

There were long nights he’d sip on beer just staring at the photos in the house, trying to relive the happiness in each one. A day with Chris on the beach. A day at the zoo with Buck. The family dinners and nights at the Grant-Nash household. Sometimes, he sleeps in Christopher’s bed — tucks himself like a shrimp beneath the blankets and buries his nose in his son's pillow when he misses him too much. He remembers what Bobby said once, how having a kid is like walking around with your heart outside of your body and he was right. It was true before and it's truer now. Being cut off from Christopher's life like this was like hell on earth. That Chris deliberately put that distance between them. That his heart, the reason he wakes up in the morning and comes home safe, is out of his body with no guarantee he’d come back home.

While therapy and work filled up his schedule, it never eased the pang of hurt and miss accumulating into one tangled mess of emotions that makes him want to vibrate out of his skin.

Through it all though, there was Buck.

The house would be empty and Buck would come over with a six-pack and takeout, moving the coffee table out of the way so they could sprawl on the floor wrapped in blankets. They'd miss Christopher together, rehashing stories and slurring out words that don't make sense but makes their gut hurt from laughter anyway. Eddie would get this flutter in his heart whenever Buck looked at him — soft and sweet and shy with the way he flicks his eyes up and to the left when Eddie catches his gaze. The way Eddie's stomach became a supernova of warmth, filled with an unbridled feeling of belonging as Buck wrapped him up in a hug that was so tight, so grounding, it felt as if he was being put together again, piece by piece. But all of it became incomparable to the feeling of Buck’s lips on his. Sacred and tentative, tainted with beer and the aftertaste of donuts they made on a whim at two in the morning. His kitchen was a greasy mess, but — worth it.

”But Tommy—”

“We broke up weeks ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“Why… did you break up? Did he do something?”

“We wanted different things.”

“...What do you want now?”

“You. Just you, Eddie. Anything you'll give me.”

“I'm not… I’m still… confused about everything. I’m not —”

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“I can wait. If you - If you want me to.”

“Okay. Just — just kiss me again.”

Which — a sexuality crisis in his 30s was definitely not in his cards but then again, neither was seeing the doppelganger of his dead wife, so what the hell, right? It’s why he’s in therapy; it just means he has something new to talk about with Frank, aside from his recent delusions. Buck did wait, though. They kissed all night and didn't kiss for a month more till Eddie felt, in some ways, ready.

Their relationship was slow, not glacial, but they took their time to talk about it.

Buck’s hesitations and fears of their relationship changing. Eddie’s own issues with the grief he's desperately learning to let go of. In the end, they share the news to a select few and decide to tell Christopher when they're both ready.

When Chris came home, Eddie had gotten a hug and a reluctant, teary-eyed teen, and while everything will never be as it was, he’s just happy his son is back within reach. With Buck insisting on staying at the loft to keep their relationship on the down low, Eddie struggled getting used to sleeping alone in bed, once again.

In hindsight, it might be why he slept through most of his alarms after his short nap post-work.

His shift lasted longer than usual with a last minute call — a car accident on Mulholland Drive with a mom and her kid who accidentally blew a tire, and in a moment of panic, swerved off the road. Thankfully, both of them didn't sustain any serious injuries aside from a few scrapes and bruises, and no other vehicles got involved in the mess.

He went home with a quick farewell to B-shift and a promise from Ravi to join him in covering another 24 on his next shift. It was a Thursday, so Christopher was still in classes, with Hen picking him up later in the day for a sleepover at Denny’s.

He and Buck started a summer project for Christopher’s room when he got home. With Chris continually growing in size, his room was becoming tinier and his bed, even more so. Throughout the stretch of summer, they've managed to remodel the space of Chris’ room (with his consent, of course) and managed to make it more spacious after attaching more shelves, and moving a few of his furniture around to make more room. His room was almost done, save for the bed that they decided to do last and with Buck in and out of the hospital this month, it was better for Chris to sleep over every few days and reconnect with some of the friends he missed during the summer.

Eddie had showered the soot and smoke of the day off his body, and promptly passed out on his bed with Buck’s pillow snug under his cheek. It still smelled like him: hints of sweat and floral-coconut sweetness like he’d just woken up early that morning to make Eddie breakfast, which makes him miss Buck all that more.

And while he knows Buck is in good hands with Bobby, it also doesn't deter him from wanting to spend time with his partner, maybe nag him about his recent injuries and mother-hen him for a few hours till Buck gets fed up with it and shut him up with a kiss, germs be damned.

By the time Eddie gets to the hospital, he was already an hour late, pillow creases still marked all over his face, and his hair is streaking without a sense of direction. His head feels a little groggy and he’s trying to shake out the sleep from his system when he slides the door open and finds Buck, dead asleep to the world and Bobby, head pillowed on his arm as he sleeps.

It was an adorable sight and he wastes no time snapping a photo and sending one to Maddie and Athena. He hesitates waking Bobby up. Knows how tired he must be if he came over immediately after work and Eddie wars with the hesitation in his head, reminding himself that it was okay that he asked for help and that Bobby volunteered. Eventually, he decides to wake Bobby and send him home for some proper sleep. If he stayed on the chair any longer, Eddie knows first hand how much his back is going to protest in the next few hours.

He shakes Bobby awake as gently as he can, prying the Kindle from his limp hands and the glasses askew on the covers. It takes a minute or two but eventually, Bobby stirs, stumbling over his words as he shakes himself awake.

“What time is it?” Bobby asks.

“Almost 2 o’clock, sorry I’m late, Cap,” Eddie apologizes, coming over to the other side of the bed to press a soft kiss to Buck’s forehead. His hand swipes gently over his temple, frowning at his temperature. Buck’s eyebrows are creased ever so gently and he can't help the staggering ache that almost swallows him whole at the sight. Even the thought of Buck enduring pain in his sleep makes him on edge, a restless feeling sinking under his skin. With care, he lovingly smooths a thumb over the creases; swiping motions that get rid of the unwanted lines that indicate agitation in his boyfriend’s sleep.

Buck, as if sensing the touch, huffs and leans into his palms, but his eyes remain closed and his breathing evens out. It's impossible to resist — Eddie peppers another kiss onto his forehead, one hand cupping the stubbled jut of his jaw.

It's rare for Buck to ever get sick but when he does, it's near catastrophic for anyone involved. So far, only Bobby, Eddie, and Maddie have had the privilege of caring for a sick Buck and the three of them have shared experiences when it comes to handling some of Buck’s more ridiculous, fever-high demands. He's always been a tactile person but a sick Buck was clingier than an octopus and koala combined. By God, he complains every few seconds about his nose or how much his throat aches or how much his head hurts. If you get him high enough on cough syrup, he starts reciting whatever fact he'd consumed on his recent Wikipedia deep dive. Everything about it is adorable — f*ck, Eddie would listen to Buck talk about the difference of an alliteration to a consonance for the rest of his life.

He gets picky about food and he wants company, even if he doesn't ask for it, always too afraid to be a bother or be too much. Eddie hates that it's a trait they share; he hates that he can always see the minute hesitance when Buck asks for something, the way Buck is too good and still too kind, who helps everyone and frames his help as if you're the one doing him a favor. It's ridiculous. As if Buck doesn't know that Eddie wants to give him everything the world has to offer at his feet and cradle him in his arms.

“It's good, looks like you got some extra sleep in,” Bobby says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Buck’s due for a late lunch so I’ll have Gayle come in and check with you.”

Eddie pulls away from Buck and accepts the one-armed hug that Bobby gives — it's swift, a brief pressure along his tired body but he could feel the sure squeeze of Bobby's palm on his arm. It’s grounding and Eddie leans into it in thanks. “Thank you so much, Bobby. I know Jee is staying over with you guys but is it okay if Christopher comes over tomorrow after his classes? He’s been dying to hang out with her.”

“No problem at all. Christopher can help Jee with the surprise party she’s planning. Can I talk to you outside for a second?”

Talk? Eddie hasn’t done anything wrong lately, has he? He doesn't mean to sound tense but anything involving a talk lately has shifted his life in catastrophic measures. Swallowing, his adam’s apple bobs at the force of it, his throat suddenly dry.. Eddie walks Bobby to the exit and his fist clenches momentarily, trying to shake out the rest of his nerves.

“Ravi just texted me,” Bobby starts. “He says you guys are asking for 48s?”

“Yeah?” He nods, unsure. “I mean, yes. Is there a problem?”

Bobby shakes his head, giving him a reassuring smile. “No problem at all. I just noticed you’ve been punching in more time for work and I’m worried you’re exerting yourself.”

Eddie has been putting in more time for work lately and it’s… The whys are pretty hard to dissect - an aftermath of Chris’ return and being faced with the effects of his grief, Buck being in the hospital - and he wants to kick himself for how much the fear shakes him at the thought of almost everything reminding him of Shannon. He feels guilt clawing at his gut, can feel shame like a sluggish worm he’s been trying so desperately to stomp on with his boot. Frank had said it was normal, that it took time and there were going to be relapses every now and then, but it’s so tiring. So exhausting. So goddamn numbing. Eddie wants to wake up for once and stop f*cking grieving.

“I just need the extra cash, that’s all.” The lie sits like an elephant on his chest, but the knowing look Bobby gives him is enough to make him bite his tongue from continuing.

“Eddie,” Bobby stops as they stand under the shade of a small tree. “I appreciate you putting in more time for work and I won’t stop you if you really think this is good for you, but I know how exhausting the last few months have been for all of us and I’m just saying that you deserve a break too.. It’s okay. Take a breather. Spend time with your family.” Despite the turmoil inside him, hearing the words ’your family’ from Bobby’s mouth with such certainty, knowing he was referring to Buck and Christopher in extension - Eddie can’t help the way his stomach flops all over the place like an energetic dog being told it was getting extra treats right after having breakfast. He smiles, tired but pleased at the sentiment.

His throat feels wet though, like it’s stuffed with cotton or a sob. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” Bobby nods and pats his shoulder again. “I’ll head out now. Text me if you need anything?”

“Will do. Drive safe, Bobby. Thanks for being here.” Eddie mumbles and without thinking too much about it, gives Bobby a quick hug. It feels safe, like it always does with Bobby. Safer than he's ever felt with his parents and the thought makes him cling, just a little.

“Now go back in there before Buck wakes up.” He gives a mock salute, watching as Bobby walks off to his - technically May’s - car.

When he gets back inside, Buck’s still - surprisingly - asleep, completely oblivious to the world and the riotous laughter from the hall. Eddie keeps himself busy by cleaning up a few stray items here and there, though there wasn’t much to clean up, really. In the end, he sits on the chair Bobby occupied minutes ago and flicks through his phone, his other hand holding Buck’s. His first two fingers press firmly where Buck’s pulse lay, still unnerved by the wires, the smell of bleach and air fresheners, and the distant beeps of a heart monitor a few doors down. If he looks at Buck long enough - the gaunt shadows of his face and the stillness of his body - it’s eerily similar to the lightning accident and that — well, Eddie doesn’t like to dwell.

He gets a few texts from Christopher, updating him on when Hen is going to pick him up, and asking if Buck is doing okay. If he can visit anytime soon.

Maybe tomorrow, you can ask Bobby to bring you with Jee-Yun? Eddie replies, watching as the text bubble appears. It takes a few minutes but a soft ping rings out just as the message pops up.

k will ask bobby. tell buck i miss him. The message reads.

Eddie smiles, unwaveringly soft at the thought of his son, as he often does nowadays. Chris was growing up too fast, too soon. He's getting taller by the second, developing that signature teenage angst and sullenness. Despite their relationship still being on unstable footing, it's getting better and that's something Eddie holds on to even after feeling like a truckload of crap after therapy. He holds on to his love for Christopher, to see him smile as unabashed and as free again. To be trusted the way Chris used to. The way he hopes Chris would eventually relearn.

They text back and forth for a while: Chris sending an 8 Ball Pool request on iMessages and Eddie losing spectacularly. He lets Christopher gloat about it, sending eye-roll emojis every few minutes and laughing so incredibly fond to himself, amused at his son’s trademark sore winner behavior. He doesn't have the heart to tell him that he's only winning because his other hand was busy counting Buck’s pulse.

Eventually, the texts die down and just as it does, the fact that Christopher was actually talking and holding a conversation with him sinks in and it feels like a goddamn miracle. God, if you told Eddie months ago - standing bereft in their living room as he watched his son walk away - that everything would be okay? He probably wouldn't believe you. But here he is now, even if it still feels unbelievable.

“Eddie?”

The soft rasp of Buck’s voice catches his attention, a smile pulling at his lips at the bleary squint Buck sends him. “At your service.”

“Ugh, what time is it?” Buck whines, tilting his head just so. Their eyes meet: Buck’s baby blues are half-lidded and still foggy with sleep but he folds gently into the palm of Eddie's hand, his lips grazing the tender skin of his pulse. He wonders if Buck could feel it jump at the gesture.

“Just half-past three,” Eddie says, pressing the call button.

“Oh.” His eyes blink up at him, slow and steady. Reminds him of a fact Buck told him once, that cats say I love you by blinking slowly up at their fellow cat or carer. “I missed you. I'm glad you're here.”

“Is that the pain killers talking?” Eddie teased. “I'm joking, I missed you too.” He leans down, peppering a kiss along the curve of his cheek to the pink skin of his birthmark.

A voice from the door interrupts; light and teasing. “Are y'all done smoochin’?”

Her name registers when he hears her speak, the odd accent and the twang in her voice is familiar as Buck lights up. “Hi Gayle,” Buck greets. “Your timing is weirdly perfect. Do you have spidey senses for nurses or something?”

“Better; see-through doors and a call button.” She grins, walking over to Buck’s other side as she fiddles around with the fluids and starts taking Buck’s temperature. She regards Eddie with a mischievous smile. “I would have come sooner but Buckette over here was stone cold asleep and he looked like he needed it. How you feelin’, sweetheart?”

“Better than earlier,” Buck supplies, sitting up with Eddie's help. He brushes through the tangles and knots of Buck’s hair, more wavy than usual with the lack of hair products. He's been growing it out again too, wanting to see if it still curls like it did when he was young with the proper length. A soft groan escapes Buck and Eddie scratches his scalp with blunt fingers, working through the tension on the base of his neck.

Gayle hums, a satisfied sound when she checks the thermometer and turns to Eddie. “He was experiencing nausea and vomiting earlier, and I noticed he ate some fish. Just as a precaution, we had it checked out in case it's food poisoning but luckily, it seems like it was just a coincidence. Tests came back negative so you're clear, Buckette. Are you feeling any more nausea? Any itching maybe?”

Buck shakes his head, happily looking over his chart that Gayle hands to him. He's pretty sure there must be some hospital rule about patients handling charts but Gayle looks like she knows what she's doing. “No itching, a little nauseous. The migraine is still pretty bad but manageable right now.”

“All good signs,” Gayle praises, patting Buck's arm. “Your temperature is still a little high for my liking and I want to check your ribs later but if your fever breaks some time tonight, then we can probably get you discharged by tomorrow.”

“Really? That sounds great.” Buck sighs in relief. “Cause I stink and I want a looong, hot shower. Preferably without a needle sticking into me.”

“Fingers crossed,” Eddie chimes in. Having Buck home would be great. Bobby’s words earlier stick to Eddie because he's right — he should spend more time with Buck. With Chris. With his family.

“I’ll have someone bring you lunch but after that, just keep on with your R&R.” She points a finger at them both, eyes squinted beneath her glasses. “No funny business.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush and Buck laughs, intertwining their hands. “Yes ma'am.”

“What’s the difference between taupe and beige? Why does it matter?”

Buck can't help but chuckle at the exasperation Chimney and Eddie share, their mouths twisted in confusion while Maddie rolls her eyes as she says, “Taupe is darker. Beige is yellowish. It matters because mom wants the party to be perfect.”

“I’m just saying,” Chimney says and Buck, for a second, is mesmerized by the love that seems to escape through the screen as he turns to Maddie with a gaze that screams nothing short of adoration. “It's their anniversary, they should celebrate with more vibrant colors!”

“Chimney’s right. Throw in a little blue, it's always been my favorite.” Eddie says, winking at Buck from where he's perched on the edge of the bed.

“You're a liar, you like neutral colors and your wardrobe can attest to that.” Buck says, pointedly looking at Eddie's shirt — a soft green that's a little oversized with the amount of times Buck has worn it.

“It goes with everything.” Eddie laughs, turning his attention back to Chimney and Maddie. “But it's their anniversary, so I guess what they say goes.” There's a hint of ire in the way Eddie says it and it's not lost on Buck how Eddie feels about his parents.

Eddie doesn't outright say that he hates his parents but Buck always did know. The subtleties, how years before when Buck would come over, looking like he'd taken a 48 in just an hour with Dr. Copeland and his parents, Eddie never hesitated to open his door for him. He'd laid out a blanket on the couch that was decidedly Buck’s and the TV would be playing old reruns of sh*tty reality television because he knew Buck needed something; a distraction from his own life. Eddie would let him sit in silence or bitch about the weird concepts of the show or pass right out on the couch. There would be hot cocoa ready on the table and it didn't matter that it was the middle of the day, the living room windows would be closed and the blinds would follow suit, darkening the space and effectively blocking out the outside world. Everything was cozy. Eddie's house was always filled with warm bursts of colors and mismatched pillows, silly soap containers, patchwork blankets and all sorts of Chris’ toys on display.

He loved it. Cried about it once, even. Buck would lay his heart bare in front of a stranger and his parents yet they could never know him the way Eddie does and continually tries to.

These days, Buck only feels bad when he thinks of his parents. Despite their numerous therapy sessions, the conversations they've had, the thought that they only did it to feel better or absolve themselves was prominent. Dr. Copeland had said it was normal — that it's understandable that his trust isn't all the way in, especially with what had happened; the reveal of Daniel, the baby box, the fact that he was a savior baby. It's been a few years now and there are some of it that Buck has made peace with.

Maybe he'll never compare to the love his parents had for Daniel. Maybe he'll never be loved the way they love Maddie still, despite their differences. Maybe Buck will always be an other in their family, someone who came along and was let adrift. It all mattered for a few days. A few months. A year or so until it came to Buck, fresh from the lightning injury as his parents debated over which couch to pick, that maybe it doesn't matter anyway because they're trying. Maybe it's why Eddie's still angry on his behalf, because he's being too nice and too forgiving but they're trying. Even if it came up short, sometimes. They're trying and a lifetime ago, that's all Buck ever wanted.

But from his minor breakdown yesterday, maybe Bobby was right too.

Maybe Buck should want more. Maybe Buck is still allowed to be angry. Maybe Buck is allowed to still think about it.

It's a hard pill to swallow — Buck has lived through the constant harshness of their perfect home, void of love and the presence of parents who cared only when it benefited them or made them look bad. Buck has lived the aftermath of Daniel’s death and its effect on their family, and when he pulls away from it, when he looks outside of his anger and the always constant wail of a child, begging for even a width of the love they had for Daniel and Maddie — there's so much anger that it makes his head spin.

Because if Maddie can love Buck outside of Daniel, why can't they?

If Maddie can take him to school, make his breakfasts and pick out clothes for him and spend time with him on a daily basis, why can't they?

If Daniel had lived, would it be different? Would Buck be loved the same as his siblings? Would nothing change?

Would it matter?

Buck wonders, agonized, if this is what Eddie felt like all those months ago, too. The gut-punch, out of breath feeling at seeing the face of someone you love, someone that's affected your life in so many drastic ways stand in front of you. Be faced with the choice to engage with that feeling or leave it all behind.

Fight or flight.

Freeze or fawn.

Approach or run the f*ck away.

He'll be brave another day to ask Eddie all about it but for now, he'll think about Daniel and the weight of his childhood that lugs after him like a dead body.

The what-ifs that come with it are painful. The what-could-have-beens and things you'll look back on from that point in time will change you and question everything you've ever known your entire life and Buck comes back, round and round, to if it all would have changed had Daniel lived.

He doesn't know, but he knows for a fact that in some way, he'll always think of his parents from a place of love. He'll always look back and wish for more, ache for it until he's bleeding and broken and even then, wait for a dab of love on his open wounds and feel numb when the skin heals.

It's a vicious cycle. Even when he moved as far away as he possibly could. When Maddie handed him his freedom, he drove long stretches of asphalt and cried whenever he looked at the rearview. There was no looking back after everything; not to the treelines of Pennsylvania and certainly not to the disappointment that followed after him like an eager dog.

Now though, he's looking back.

He's looking back at Evan, with his skinned knees and cartoon-colored plasters that Maddie bought to cheer him up whenever he got up to another stupid, reckless idea. He looks back at himself and his aching to belong, to be a part of something, how wrong he always felt in his own skin. How rejection never thickened his armor but chipped away a part of himself as he stifled his loudness for every person he's met. The loneliness when Maddie left with Doug. The restlessness in his skin that settled only for a few hours after a meaningless night with a stranger.

All because his parents could have loved him. Could have tried to love him, but didn't.

Maybe today, he'll think about Daniel. He'll feel the prowling anger like a big, squealing monster inside him and listen to Maddie tell stories about their extended family and how they wished he was there with them. He'll say the right words and fake a smile and die a little inside until it all numbs over and he'll be able to look back and not ache to be loved in moments ever again.

Something shifted. Eddie can't explain it but he's looking at Buck, listening to him hum in places as Maddie talks excitedly on the other end. She talks about their cousin Riley, born just a few years before Buck and how she used to carry him all around the house. About distant relatives who came over to celebrate and gush about missing Buck. About everyone else in Buck’s life that he’s never put a face to, people he probably can't even remember.

There'd be a big fat pause when she recalls the old house in somewhere-Pennsylvania. When she gives implications about older, forgotten memories where Buck and Daniel existed together at one point in time.

Buck laughs, he nods in all the right places and smiles at the screen. Eddie can feel his gut simmer low in his gut at the image it paints. He hates how vindictively precise the Buckleys are. How deceptively perfect their timing often is when it comes to putting a division between Buck and Maddie. How Buck becomes an outsider in his own life.

It makes vitriol rear its ugly head and for a second, Eddie feels the familiar pang of bloodlust from the days he let his anger control him. For a second, he imagines the sting of busted skin and his bleeding knuckles. The heave of his breath and bruises smattered all over his skin when morning came. The way his body ached in a way that satisfied him unlike anything.

Eddie is past his anger but it does not mean that he can't not be angry on Buck’s behalf.

He shakes it off though, and focuses on Buck's flat expression as the call ends with a swift, loving goodbye from Maddie. Wordlessly, Buck scoots over to the side, making space for Eddie. He toes off his shoes and climbs in, his arms wrapping around Buck on instinct as he sighs, fitting his head in the crook of Eddie's neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Buck shakes his head. He smells a little like sweat and the alcohol tang of wet wipes but Eddie doesn't mind. “I just want to go home with you. Sleep in our bed.”

“Me too.” He kisses Buck’s temple, his hand slipping past the hem of his shirt and grazes the soft layer of fat on his stomach. The muscles that lay underneath and the warmth of his skin. “Soon, sweetheart. If it helps you feel better, can I sleep here on the bed with you tonight?”

“That actually sounds great. As long as you don't mind me elbowing you every three seconds, it's pretty cramped.”

“Nowhere else I would rather be, Buck.” Eddie wants to kiss away the unwanted frown on his face. Maybe kiss him again just because he could.

“Good, cause we haven't cuddled in two weeks and I'm going to start going through a withdrawal soon.” He can hear the pout on Buck's tone alone, the sweetness and the reverent softness of his voice that makes Eddie's toes curl all the time.

A laugh sputters out of him, fond and unmistakably adoring as he hikes the blanket over their bodies. For a moment, his anger flies out the window and he puts his vitriol down on a table. There's no use spending energy on people who are incapable of change. People who take Buck for granted and toss him aside like he's someone to be regarded at their convenience.

Instead, Eddie wraps Buck up in the bubble of his love and pulls out his phone. He shows him his text messages with their son, the design of the bed frame Chris' had picked out for his room. He shows Buck the list of his running commentaries on his notes app on the book Buck convinced him to read and books he might be willing to try.

They talk about home renovations and Buck’s new obsessions with orangutans, where in return Eddie would promise a zoo trip as soon as possible. Maybe bring along Jee, Harry, Denny, and Mara and they plan and plan and plan and plan. In the gentle puff of Buck’s breath along his neck, Eddie’s arms ache from holding Buck up but he doesn't buckle. This is an ache Eddie would welcomingly endure for the rest of his life. As their afternoon dies down, he reads softly unto his ear and eventually, their breaths sync and he has to wonder if Buck has fallen asleep.

Bobby had called asking if he could come over to drop a few things off and when he met him in the lobby, he had an excitable Jee-Yun barreling swiftly right at him. He lets out an oof, catching Jee by the waist and hoisting her up to his shoulders.

“Princess Jee!” Eddie gasps, bouncing her around as she squeals, her tiny hands smacking his back in glee. “Is it just me or did you grow another inch?”

“Yes! I’m big now, Harry said so!” Jee’s endless energy was infectious, the way she wiggles and perches on his arms and takes his face in both hands. “Dee, Buck in there?”

“You just missed him, sweetie. He’s with a nurse right now.” Eddie pouts. This kid is way too smart, the way she could string along sentences with ease now and Eddie supposes it checks out. Chimney and Maddie were great parents, they talked to her all the time and Buck was big on enrichment activities, especially with kids. No wonder Jee-Yun was this articulate at her age.

Reminds him of Chris at his age too, even if Eddie wasn't around that time. “Visiting hours are over but I heard you're surprising Uncle Buck tomorrow?”

Jee-Yun nods eagerly, her face split into a grin as she says, the words solemn, “Yes, nuggets and parties.”

“He'll love that.” He beams, pressing a kiss on her forehead as he faces Bobby who finally managed to catch up.

“Come on slowpoke,” Eddie teased, bouncing Jee who's playing with his St. Christopher necklace.

“Hey now,” Bobby gripes good-naturedly. “She's surprisingly fast for her size. You should see her high on sugar, even Athena couldn't wrangle her.”

“Just like her dad, huh?”

“I’ll say. I was taking Jee out for ice cream and we were on the way, so I thought I'd stop by to drop off some food.” It's then that Eddie notices the paper bags in Bobby's hand and he can't help but sigh. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the help, he just feels a little out of his element at how supportive Bobby is, even when he knew it was in Bobby's nature.

Is this what supportive parents are like? Do they just — do things for you? Without expecting anything in return?

Eddie's always viewed Bobby as a general parental figure for everyone at the station - with his position as captain - and they always had mutual respect for each other's dedication to their work and experience. Outside of it, they've always been close friends. Family. But this is entirely new. Eddie knows what Buck means to Bobby and for the first time, he feels off kilter at having his sole attention.

Even more so, he might start crying at how nice it feels.

“Bobby, you know you didn't have to buy us anything.” Eddie finds himself admonishing. He takes the bag from Bobby, peering through the items.

“I wanted to. Saves you a trip from the cafeteria and overpriced sandwiches.”

“Thank you,” is what he ends up saying, oddly overwhelmed at the gesture. It's not even the worst that Buck’s been injured, not the worst stay that Eddie has had in a hospital, and not the worst kind where one of them is toe to toe with death.

“You're very welcome. Have you thought about what I said earlier?” Bobby asks, taking Jee-Yun when she gets bored of his necklace. He hands her his phone with a soft ah, ah, only for a few minutes, okay? before Jee is totally immersed in the world of Barbies and talking animals.

He sighs. “I have.”

“And?”

He doesn't have an answer quite yet. His silence is enough to indicate it, and Eddie takes a seat in one of the plastic chairs. Bobby sits beside him.

“I think I'm doing it again.” Eddie says instead, like a confession.

Bobby turns to him, confused but imploring. “Can you elaborate on that?”

Eddie chuckles tiredly. “You’re starting to sound like Frank.”

“Is that a good thing?” Bobby smiles, amused.

“Probably.” Eddie braces himself for his next words, picking at the skin on his thumb. “I’ve been working a lot because it's — it's my default sometimes, you know? I'm overwhelmed? I run. I’m angry? I feel like I'm bursting at the seams. Hell, at one point, I was fighting inside fences and almost killed a man over it.” He takes a deep breath. “I… Right now I feel like it's the aftermath of Shannon all over again but I’m past my anger. I don't — I don't do that anymore. But I still wake up sometimes and feel her, Bobby. I thought I moved on and then I saw Kim. Everything felt like — a vacuum. Like all I could set my focus on that time was her and look where it got me.”

Bobby's quiet. Jee babbles happily on his lap and he's never told this story to Bobby in detail before, but Eddie's hands feel heavy. Like the still phantom of Shannon slipping through his fingers again and it's so unfair. So f*cking unfair. Eddie's broken the rose-coloured glasses but it doesn't stop him from missing her.

“I'm keeping busy with work to avoid it. Been handling it, you know? I'm doing better. Therapy is torture but it helps, Christopher is home and that's all I could ask for. But inside, I just want to run because — because I'm so goddamn scared, Bobby.”

“Scared of what?”

“That I'll f*ck up. That I'll run away. That I'll make the same mistakes because that's all I ever do, apparently.” That he'll ruin the good in Buck the way he ruined the good in him and Shannon. The way he ruined his relationship with his son for his own selfishness.

Bobby clears his throat and Eddie turns to him. His eyes feel heavy, holding back tears that won't fall, tears that are exhausted from sleepless nights missing his son and crying just because there was nothing else he could do but be better.

“There’s this saying about grief.” Bobby says, and Eddie’s attention is grabbed instantly, as always, by the outpouring wisdom that Bobby always exudes. Even when he's in a tough spot or emotions are thick in cases, Eddie always admired the cool and sensible that was Bobby Nash. “How big it is, and how little we are. We tend to… hide away from it, so we don't feel it's largneness, and how it finds you on a random day when you least expect it anyway. I've never fully read it but it does resonate, I think, with a lot of us.”

“Running away from grief? Feels a little targeted.” He chuckles dryly.

“Hush up, this is a life lesson.” Bobby jokes, elbowing him lightly and he's thankful for the playful reprieve. “Everyone runs away from something, Eddie. Especially grief. It's what you do with it when it finds you that matters.”

Well great, Eddie f*cking bombed that one already. He shrugs, defeated. “Well, it found me. I basically cheated on my girlfriend. My son went for the jugular and ran away with my parents.”

“You can't fault them for that,” he points out, and Eddie scoffs as if he wasn't made up of self-blame and hate. Time and time again, there's no one else to blame but Eddie.

As if Bobby can read his mind, he says, “And you can't hold yourself at fault, either. You reacted, just like them. I won't absolve you of the things you did wrong but you have to realize at some point that you've been through a lot. You can't compare yourself to everyone because our grief, and the way we experience it, is different. It doesn't make you an other, but it does mean that it's understandable if you didn't have the perfect reaction to it. A lot of us get drunk. The others cry until they physically can’t cry anymore. Some of us tend to repress it until it comes crawling back like it never left. And that's complicated.”

It's nothing Eddie hasn't heard before from Frank but coming from Bobby, there's something about it that's so tangible, that he can grasp the feeling by hand and hold on to it. Study it. Feel it.

Because he knows Bobby will always understand. That Bobby puts his feet in other people's shoes because he's made up of commiseration and empathy and kindness.

“Grief is so complicated, Eddie. And you're not a bad person for being overwhelmed by it, nor are you a bad partner for being scared of repeating patterns. I think that shows how much of a good person you are, how much you care. How much you put in work for the people you love.”

“It's not enough though,” he finds himself saying, his voice shaky. It never was. Not for his parents. Not for Shannon. And with the way he failed Christopher, he doesn't blame the kid if he ends up with the same conclusion.

“You're not the one to make that decision.” Bobby counters.

“I don't have to.” He bites, like a kicked, whimpering dog with his tails tucked to his tummy. “My parents have said it enough to last a lifetime. Shannon ran from me because it was too much. My own kid — he didn't even look at me the day he left.”

“Has Christopher ever said that? Has Buck?”

This isn't a conversation you have in a hospital lobby. But the ceiling fan hums, a quiet monotone in the ins and goings of patients and families alike. Eddie focuses on his breathing, times it with the quiet tick of the clock by the reception table.

“No,” he says reluctantly. “But just because they haven't doesn't mean that they've never thought about it.”

“But it also doesn't mean you can just assume.” Bobby heaves a sigh and he flinches at the fear of hearing the disappointment in it. But it comes out fond and bemused and Eddie doesn't know if he should be relieved or choke on his tears like a little kid. He continues, “Christopher is back, isn't he? He still came back despite everything, and that's because he loves you, and he knows that you love him. He's old enough to know that you make mistakes too, Eddie. And that doesn't stop him from loving you.”

“How do you know?” The answer comes out bitter, his hope squashed down before it can even spring to the surface to soothe himself.

“Because I'm a father too. I can tell. Our childhood — we have grown ups always tell us about life being unforgiving when it comes to second chances but that's just not true. People are forgiving. There's always a second chance. Maybe not to the people who don't value and respect you, but to those who do? Then it's infinite. It's love.”

The way Bobby smiles is all-knowing. As if he has the answers to everything and Eddie's inclined to believe it, goddamn it. Bobby's never failed him. Not once. “Everything you've told me about Chris has been nothing short of adoring. And everything Chris has told me about you ranks higher than whatever your parents ever have to say. You’re a good man, Eddie. A good dad. One of the best. You don’t just tell Chris you love him, but you tell him with your actions too. I hope you remember that.”

God, Eddie’s surprised his whole body isn't shaking from the way he's strangling the viciousness of his sob, clawing to the surface at his throat and f*ck. Eddie doesn't know what to do with this vote of confidence. The unwavering certainty. His own parents couldn’t even manage a “good job” or “great work”, but Bobby can assure him just like that about the one thing he’s always been scared of.

“He got mad at you but he loves you and he came back.” Bobby repeats. Three things. Three truths. “That's proof enough that he does, Eddie. And Buck? Do I even have to get into it?”

His laugh is wet, a f*ck-ugly thing that he can describe as a gurgled sob because — no, no they don't have to get into it about Buck. Eddie knows, down to the mangled bits of his heart and every scar-lined tissue of his skin, that Buck loves him.

Loves him so much his teeth ache when Buck kisses him in the morning.

Loves him so much that he does every chore that Eddie hates and picks Chris up in the morning so he could sleep in.

Loves him so much that he knows Buck wakes up before him sometimes, just staring and he pretends to be asleep for five more minutes just so he can feel the adoring way that Buck’s thumb ghosts over the scars on his skin like worship.

Eddie knows. Because it's the softest, most concrete, most painstaking that Eddie has been loved his entire life.

So no, they don't need to get into it about Buck.

“You've made mistakes, but it does not make you a bad person. A bad person would quit. They would try and fail and call it a day, but you don't. I know you think you do, but that's far from the truth. You said it yourself. You're doing okay, you're trying to be better, and we all see it, and we hope you're doing it for yourself, too. You deserve to not feel okay. You deserve to have support and a shoulder to cry on. You deserve to be okay too.” Eddie's composure breaks, a ragged breath escaping as an errant tear coats his upper lip in salt, a comfort spreading like wildfire through his body.

This conversation went far better than the one in Eddie's head. The version that looks like his father's disappointment across the kitchen table and his mother's pleased air as she walks out of his front door, Christopher in arm.

He had expected words like get over it or it was your fault even though they are words that have never graced Bobby's vocabulary.

“I am trying,” he says, like a child trying to prove that he didn't eat the last cookie in the jar.

“I know. I know you are.”

He wipes away the tears and faces Bobby, completely unsurprised at how Jee’s hyperfocused on her movie, as if he and Bobby don't exist at all.

“My advice can only get you so far, but you should talk to Buck about it. I think it's him you need to hear these words from.”

Before they leave, Eddie hugs Bobby another time. It's a tight thing and he realizes this is the way Bobby hugs Buck. Like he's trying to fit all of Buck into his arms and Eddie feels engulfed. He feels light, like Bobby took a moment to unload his burdens and Eddie could weep at the reminder on what it is to have a family that will support and uplift you.

Jee-Yun makes a fuss on the ground, begging to be picked up and invited in the hug and Eddie pressed all the kisses he could physically fit all over her forehead until she's giggling, begging him to stop.

“Hey Bobby,” he says, just as he finally fits Jee into the carseat. “Thank you for the talk. I’ll text you about my next shift, yeah?”

Bobby looks up at him from the driver's seat and he smiles, warm and inviting. As if he already knows the answer. “Please do. We'll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Bye Dee!”

“Bye princess Jee!” Eddie waves as big as he can, laughing lovingly at the way Jee’s tiny hands stick out before they disappear back inside.

The silver gleam of the car disappears as it rounds the corner and Eddie, worn but his heart uncharacteristically settled inside him, heads back inside.

“What took you so long?”

“Had a talk with Bobby.” Buck accepts the kiss that Eddie presses to his cheek, running a hand through the bits of hair on Eddie’s nape as he plops down beside him on the bed.

“Sounds serious.” He hums, taking the bag that Eddie offers him. Food, to be precise. Most of which were Buck's favorite. He takes out the Tupperware filled with what he suspects were overnight oats with some type of fruit.

“It was.” A tired smile passes over Eddie's face. Buck offers his hand, and without much prompting, their sides are pressed together from hip to thigh to ankle. Their elbows bump each other from how Eddie tries to wrestle the spoon from Buck, taking the first bite, and takes another spoonful which he offers back to him. Buck giggles, letting Eddie spoon feed him because he likes it and it's silly and it's nice.

They haven't been able to do much of this - the sweetness and heart-eyes, gooey relationship stuff - with Chris home and while he loves his kid - because that is his kid, someone he has come to love like his own - Buck would very much like to make out with his boyfriend and play footsie every now and then. Sue him.

“Bobby made this for me, asshole.” There’s not much heat to the words but still, he lets Eddie pass the spoon between them. He’s mildly worried that Eddie would get sick in return for doing so but the pointed look Eddie gives him - as if he’s reading Buck’s mind, which is insane but not entirely new between them - is enough to quell that concern. A round of vitamins should do the trick and if worse goes to worst, then Buck is more than happy to pamper and take care of Eddie,

“You can learn to share.” Eddie slurs, chewing noisily with his mouth open just to annoy him, the f*cker. He’s sure the fondness must be oozing out of him though, like molten candy with how warm he is all over and not because of his fever. His cheeks hurt from smiling, his laugh sickeningly tender as Eddie chokes on a berry, and in return, Buck swats at him until he’s laughing just as loud.

Eddie breathes, turns to look at him and for one single second, it’s like the world slows down and Buck is staring at his entire future. White picket fence, a spacious backyard, a kiddie swing that warms and gathers leaves on the cusp of fall. A patio where they can spend their afternoons gardening, planting wisterias that will bloom and crawl all over their house like that moment after they diffused that bomb. Like the second their lives intertwined to one, love creeping in to slowly fill the cracks, day by day till he knows the lovely shape of Eddie’s face in his palms more than he remembers the weight of his bleeding body on his shoulder.

When the world comes back into focus, Eddie’s lips are already on his. A light, chaste touch that sends sparks down to his spine and tastes of cinnamon and home. Buck breathes him in, each tantalizing atom that surrounds Eddie, and wishes he could be swallowed whole, tucked tight and small into the crevice of Eddie’s heart.

“I love you so much.” Buck murmurs and goes in for one more kiss. Eddie indulges him, slow and wonderfully soothing.

Eddie pulls away and takes Buck’s hand. Their fingers slot together like puzzle pieces made to fit.

“I love you.” Eddie says, though it’s not a sentence and Buck thinks the saying ‘opening a can of worms’ can be applied to Eddie right now, with the way he can easily see the gears shift in his head. Buck kisses his knuckles, urging him to continue.

Eddie nods, a tiny movement, and huffs out a breath. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

His hand shakes briefly when he gives Buck a firm grip. Buck runs his thumb over his knuckles, an up-and-down motion that Buck hopes will calm Eddie’s nerves. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?” He asks, purely to lighten the mood. Buck hates the shadow casting over Eddie’s face, like talking to him is daunting when it shouldn’t be. It’s just him. Just Buck.

Buck wants to know every tumultuous thought in Eddie’s head, every runaway idea, and throwaway line he normally wouldn’t say.

“It does.” Eddie answers and it’s earnest. “You are special. You’re Buck. You’re my best friend and I love you so much that it scares me.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing to be scared of.” He’s a liar. Buck is scared every second of every day that Eddie will realize, like the others, that he’s not worth it.

Eddie shakes his head. He lifts their intertwined hand, pressing his lips briefly to the skin, like he’s breathing life to it. “I’m scared I’m going to run away again. That I’m going to ruin what we have, and I don’t want to do that. I’m scared that I’ll be too much, and you’ll see what my parents saw in me, that I’ll drive you away like I did with Shannon and - and I want - I want a future with you, Buck. I’m all in and it scares the sh*t out of me. I have so much, so much that I’ve yet to give and I'm scared you’ll see through me and leave.”

Eddie laughs: a wet, choked sob that echoes in Buck’s ears. He swallows, eyes burning. Buck is helpless - his head feels heavy, not just from the migraine but from the utter fear that makes Eddie’s voice tremble. He leans on Eddie’s shoulder, drowsy and emotional and he wants to crawl under Eddie's skin and be engulfed in his warmth forever. “I want that too.”

“I don’t know if I deserve it. If I deserve you.”

It’s Buck’s turn to laugh because - f*ck. Does Eddie not see how good of a person he is? The words leave his mouth in a soft cadence. "Eddie. You’re the type of dad who looks up slang and Gen Z crap on TikTok just so you understand what Chris and I are talking about half the time. You’re the type of friend that everyone can bitch to because you love gossip and you indulge everyone. You’re going to therapy for Christopher, and I hope you’re doing it for yourself too, because you deserve better. What Kim did to you was wrong, Eddie. Understandably, you could have handled a lot of things differently, but when Kim decided to come back and dressed up as your dead wife who you loved, that was on her. Not on you.”

Buck knows most of it, knows how much Eddie rued the days that followed. How he was almost bedridden without Christopher in the house and how defeat swarms him at the reminder. There’s so much to be said about choices and consequences, but the aftermath of Kim and Eddie was a delicate thing.

Buck pulls away to catch Eddie’s gaze, eyes glazed with tears and lips pursed into a tight line. He cups Eddie’s face in his hands, and it has weight. He’s carried all of Eddie, bloody and close to death but this Eddie is different. He’s carrying all of Eddie’s doubts in his hands, all of his fears that he just laid on the bed, and the good in his heart. The good Eddie so craves to be. “I love you and I love every part of you, even the parts you think are broken and not worth loving. I’ll want you even when you make mistakes, even when we fight. It’s not a matter of us deserving each other. It’s the fact that we love each other and, if you’ll let me, I’m more than happy to love all of you. I want you.”

The silence spans on, their breaths ragged with choked emotions and their foreheads pressed together. Keeping his tears at bay was a useless feat, especially when it comes to Eddie Diaz. Eddie is everything. Eddie is gentle sunbeams that crack through your window in the rise of dawn. He's the honey in an oatmeal bowl and the perfect cup of coffee during a chilly morning.

Buck will love Eddie, will hold him until his arms and body rots with the earth, and even then, he'll carry that love to the afterlife just so they know to whose arms Buck will truly rest in.

“I want you so much. I have never wanted as much as I have right now. This. With you. Our life together. I want it so much it aches.”

“You have me. You had me the moment you told me you had my back.” Buck says. A truth.

“As long as you'll have mine.” Their lips brush together, not kissing, but curving into smiles at the memory. At their promise.

—

Eddie feels like a newborn.

His limbs feel heavy and limp, like he doesn't know what to do with them. His head lolls like it's filled to the brim with tears even though he just cried his guts out, being this safe and held in Buck's arms.

The world continues to revolve around them, a mundane evening. And yet inside the walls of this particular hospital bedroom, Buck and Eddie's lives are changing for the better. Or — at least, he hopes, is for the better.

Want settles into the warmth of his stomach, placated by Buck’s promises and his fear shudders down his spine, no longer on edge. In the face of everything, Eddie truly wonders what he did to deserve Buck. He wonders what Buck must see in him when he is often at his worst. What Buck must admire so Eddie can see for himself that he isn't as bad as he makes himself out to be.

“You always had my heart,” Eddie whispers into the space between them. “I’ve been afraid of a lot of things, but this is definitely one of the scaredest I've been in a while.”

“That's good.” Buck says, and Eddie gazes at him in question.

“It means it's worth fighting for. We're scared to lose each other.”

And isn't that right.

The silence meters down to the count of their breaths, in sync and grounding each other. They share the oxygen, they share kisses, they share warmth, and a bed and their bodies within the cocoon of the blanket. His head rests on Buck’s chest, his eyes half-lidded as he watches people pass by on the other side of the door and for the better half of their evening, they share the rest of the food in hushed conversation.

Eddie gets the news from Gayle later on in the evening before she finishes her shift.

“Good news,” she says, her voice soft. “His temp is steadily going down and it looks like he broke his fever. We'll keep him until tomorrow afternoon just in case and do a once over before we discharge him.”

Buck sleeps soundly in the bed with him, his head fitted in the crook of Eddie's neck, wet puffs of breath ghosting over his skin. He’s been sleeping more than Eddie can count and it’s probably a good thing. Buck has always had bad migraines, but he was so used to it, powering through them during shifts and not giving himself some reprieve. He keeps carding his fingers through his hair, keeps his breathing steady as they lay together and matches the rise and fall of Buck’s breath.

“That's great.” He smiles, relieved. “What about the migraine and nausea though? Are his ribs doing any better?”

“It’s probably because of his congestion but if not, then we'll do a more thorough exam in the coming week. His ribs are still bruised but it looks like they're recovering pretty well. For now though, Doc would like to just keep observing him and see if he gets better. Get him home and comfortable.”

“That really is good news. Thank you so much, Gayle. We owe you.” They truly do. While Gayle was used to their presence in and out of this hospital, Eddie appreciates the extra mile she takes to make their stay comfortable.

“As long as I'm invited to the wedding, consider it paid in full.” Gayle winks, gently patting Eddie’s arm. A hot flush envelops him, and he can't help but grin. Buck and Eddie becoming BuckAndEddie. Moving into a house together, sharing expenses and doing laundry at three in the morning because they slept in after a rough shift. Getting woken up in the morning with the long line of Buck's body behind him. Getting each other's favorite desserts in a restaurant so they can share. Eddie will kiss the sweetness of mango sorbet off of Buck's tongue and kiss him again just so Buck can taste the bite of sugar and custard on his.

Eddie dreams and wants and aches.

“Alright, time for me to go. If I'm late for one more second, my wife is going to kill me.”

Oh, a wife. Eddie didn't know that but he's sure Buck probably did.

He bids her goodbye and as Buck sleeps, he watches over him with his heart on the cusp of beating out of his chest. He whispers into the softness of Buck's curls, “I don't think I can run from you even if I wanted. My heart’s already yours, you'll be taking it with you wherever you go and I'll be stumbling for a way back because I need you. Outside of my love and my want, I will always need you. I never needed anything until you came along.”

He breathes, nonplussed at his own admission. Eddie continues, whispering secrets like spells charging the air around them. “I’ve never been allowed to need anything in my life and you waltzed in, offering help like it's no big deal and showing me what unconditional love truly meant. What it means to have someone care and do something just because. Just because, Buck. I loved you for the goodness in your heart, but I love you for selfish, needing reasons too. I hope you'll love me despite it.”

When Buck wakes up, he's alone in bed, a little cold and pouty without Eddie there to keep him warm. There's a message on his phone though, telling him he's out buying breakfast. Buck lets the nurses fuss with him for a while, chatting them up for some gossip and helping one intern with a needle. She's a little nervy, chewing on her lip with unsure hands as she listens to his words.

Aida, the intern, gets it right eventually and Buck cheers her on, asking about how her internship is so far and what specialty she might take up. She tells him about picking in between neurology and cardio, which reminds him of Grey's Anatomy, and the conversation spirals after he asks her if she ever watched the show and if she's choosing between the two because of Meredith and Cristina.

Apparently, Chim and Hen watch the show religiously because of the quote-on-quote “messiness” of the characters. Occasionally, they complain about some of the medical inaccuracies. Because of Maddie's experience as a nurse and Eddie's experience as an army medic, it definitely helped the four of them bond by having a monthly binge. Buck tagged along eventually and since the four of them were already caught up, they were nice enough to watch the show with him starting from the very first season.

“I'm only on season six right now but my friends at work pretty much spoiled most of the show for me.” Buck tells her as she cleans up her equipment.

Aida raises an eyebrow as if she's testing him. “How do you feel about Owen and Cristina?”

“I definitely have heart eyes at Owen right now and he looks like he has potential to be a good partner, but from what I've heard, we don't like him so I'm inclined to trust everyone's opinion. I love Lexie Grey though.” Buck rants, almost out of breath. His nose still feels stuffy and he's just about ready to douse himself in mint oil.

“Ooh, Lexie, I love her.” Aida croons, jumping excitedly. “Quick, tell me if you know about the plane accident later on in the season.”

Buck hums. “I know about it, but my sister made me promise not to spoil myself so if you're asking plot-wise… then, no?”

“Oh… You poor thing.”

Now hold on. “What? What happens?”

Aida’s face twitches between a laugh and a wince and Buck, swear to God, is worried. “You're on your own on this one, and word of advice — you should watch it with someone cause I was not prepared for the trauma it put me through.”

He gasps in disbelief. “That's not comforting, oh my God. Aida. It can't be that bad.”

(Buck will look back on this weeks later, nose snotty and his eyes brimming with tears while Eddie and Hen consoled him.

It was actually that bad.)

“Good luck, trooper. I believe in you.” She laughs, her eyes crinkling.

“Aida oh my God, now you have to tell me.”

The door opens, and in comes Eddie followed by Christopher Diaz himself, his hair mussed and unbrushed. Woah, doesn't he have school today?

Chris waves hello to Aida who does the same, and props his crutches on the wall, opting to sit on his bed.

Buck watches Eddie's body twitch, like he has to suppress walking over to Buck and plopping on the bed next to him like he usually would. He mourns the loss of the familiarity and instead, focuses on Chris and Aida who started to strike up a conversation.

Eddie sits on the chair, propping another large bag of what he presumes is food on the table. “Tell you what? What're you guys talking about?”

Buck turns to him, his face contorted into genuine worry. “What happens to Lexie in the plane crash?” He's weirdly obsessed with the show, as Hen and Chimney predicted, and finds himself attached to the brightness of Lexie’s character. She's vibrant and sweet, optimistic but anxiously so, and Buck loved the developing relationship between her and Meredith. Her character reminds Buck so much of Maddie, in a way.

Eddie’s laugh is amused, a muted thing but dripping with fondness. “Oh-ho, no no, if we had to go through it, so do you.”

Aida waves goodbye from the door and Buck waves back, mouthing a thank you just as Chris and Eddie start snickering beside him.

Buck pouts. “You guys are mean. I'm already sick and you're keeping things from me. That's evil, man. Evil.”

“I can Google it for you, I'm sure IMDB has answers.” Chris chimes, wiggling his eyebrows at Buck, the dork.

“At least one person in this room loves me.” He harrumphs, hooking an arm over Chris' shoulders. Briefly, Buck waits for him to push away his arm with subtlety but to his relief (and on-going surprise), Christopher leans into it. Dirty blonde curls tickle his nose and Buck laments that he can't even smell the too-sweet apple-cinnamon-home scent of Chris’ shampoo. “Hey, Superman. Don't you have school today?”

“Yep, but the faculty had an emergency meeting, so they sent us home.” Chris explains, tucking himself into Buck's arm and he sends a look Eddie's way, a little incredulous. Eddie raises an eyebrow, shrugging mildly.

He turns back to Chris. The familiar weight of him was nice. Buck missed him. So much. Even if he thinks he doesn't have a right to. Even if Eddie said he could miss him just as much.

Buck holds out his hand for a high five which Chris immediately responds to. “Ooh, nice. You didn't even have to fake a tummy ache. I know you weren't excited for your math test this week.”

Chris hums, a happy tone. “I know! I got lucky. I still wish you still had your freaky math powers though. You'd help me loads with my Algebra class.”

Eddie grumbles, something about being chopped liver which Chris responds to by sticking his tongue out. “You hate math, dad. You said you'd rather eat your own food.”

It's not mean in any way. Chris and Eddie were a work in progress and while it's not the same as before, they're back to sassing each other full throttle and Buck, ever the enabler, adds fuel to the flame.

They share stories while Buck eats.

Christopher regales them of his current eighth grade adventures and his recent sleepover with Denny. He's very passionate about it, speaking with big hand gestures as he talks about their upcoming chemistry project and how he and Denny have been getting into DnD lately with the recent uproar of the game online. Eddie tells them about his last few shifts, something about a bee emergency that swarmed an entire house and a new show they could all watch together next time, and it's damn nice.

They haven't spent proper time together in a while and Buck missed it. A lot.

In hindsight, Buck should have known there was more to his day when Eddie kept going in and out of his room for no f*cking reason at all. One or three times was fine but multiple times every few hours were getting a little annoying. Chris, bless his soul, was too busy showing a bunch of books he plans on getting, asking for Buck's input whether they're worth getting via paperback or if he should just download a copy online to Buck's Kindle.

“’Essential Judaism’?” Buck raises an eyebrow curiously.

Chris answers, his face is thoughtful and sincere. “I’m at that stage in my life where I'm curious about other people's religion.”

Ah well, not like Eddie's catholic crisis then.

“That usually comes around when you're in your early 20’s, bud.” Buck notes, looking up other books with the same theme.

“I’ve lived many lives, Buck. I’m practically like - 30.” Chris says solemnly. Buck snickers. “It was bound to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Sure was,” he easily agrees.

“Besides, it’s educational! I might check out Buddhism next.”

He wasn't religious by any means, but he gets it. His sense of faith for so long relied on Maddie that he never really questioned much about God - capital G - and gods. All he knew was that Maddie was his rock, the family he could always rely on. When he was in his 20’s and exploring what the world had to offer, Buck encountered different people with vast amounts of culture and varying belief systems. It was overwhelming at first, but overall, very fulfilling to learn and be a part of.

Chris shows him more books, ranging from nonfiction to indie comics and even goes as far to explain how he's trying to diversify his palate from his usual genre of fiction and fantasy. Buck tells him as much as his knowledge could spare, learning more from Christopher rather than the other way around, really. He was so smart, he soaked up everything like a sponge and Buck beams with pride, wriggling happily in his chest like worms.

When five o'clock comes around, Buck's discharge papers are signed and despite his still-raging migraine, he's more than happy to help clean up around the room and bid some of the nurses farewell. Gayle gives him an enthusiastic hug goodbye and he manages to catch Aida on her break and wish her good luck on her internship. Though, he hopes they won't see each other that soon.

“Kiddo, where’s your dad?” Buck asks, looking around the lobby to try and find Eddie who’s been missing for half an hour now. Where the hell was he?

“Err, I dunno, he was just here?” He turns to Chris, sitting quietly on a chair and not at all surprised at the Switch in his hands, easily distracted by his game rather than listening to Buck. Teenagers. One minute you have their unwavering attention and the next thing you know, it’s another few days before you manage to properly talk to them.

Should he ask a nurse if they’ve seen Eddie around? He was literally just behind them a few minutes ago! He’s more curious than annoyed and when Eddie, the f*cker, finally pops up. Buck has to link his arm with his in the most casual way possible to stop him from slithering away one more time.

“Where the hell have you been disappearing to?” Buck asks, incredulous.

Eddie smiles sheepishly as he takes Buck’s overnight bag. He chances a glance at Chris, still too busy with his game.

“I got caught up with a nurse but uh- I’m gonna bring the car around now so hang tight.” And just like that, he’s gone again, barreling through the doors and to the direction of the parking lot. Still a little confused, Buck nudges Chris with his foot.

“What’s up with him?”

“Uh, dunno. Busy shh, boss level.”

“You’re going to rot your brain with that.” He’s turning into Maddie, Jesus Christ.

“Shhhhh.” Chris doesn’t even look up, waving a lazy hand at him and indignant, Buck peers outside instead, relieved to see Eddie’s truck pull up. When he finally gets Chris’ attention, he exchanges the Switch for his crutches and grabs him by the shoulders, gently pushing him in the proper direction. (Admittedly, leaning on Chris a little when a bout of dizziness kicks in.)

Once they’re all set, Eddie pulls out of the hospital driveway. The ride is somewhat silent save for the song playing softly on the radio. Buck’s leaning back in his seat, eyes closed as he relishes in the familiar scratch of leather and the truck’s minty air freshener. He’s just about to fall asleep when Eddie clears his throat.

“So,” Eddie starts. Buck squints his eyes open, turning to look at Eddie, fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. “I have the weekend off next week and a few days off after that and I was wondering if you guys wanted to do anything? I know we’ve all been planning around going to the zoo, but we can check out some museums we haven’t been in, too. Maybe see a play for the first time, visit those aquariums with mermaid performers?”

Buck blinks. And blinks again.

“I mean sure, when I’m feeling better, but I thought you’ve been meaning to take extra shifts?” They’ve been planning some trips and outings, true, but Buck didn’t anticipate it to be this soon. He’s been expecting Eddie to keep to his tight schedule for a while, but this was - well, it’s a little sudden, but not surprising.

Buck likes to think he knows Eddie like the back of his hand. Eddie has a lot of idiosyncrasies, a lot of habits he keeps to religiously. He likes to have control, to be aware of everything that's happening around him, so he knows how to fix it, especially when it's concerned with Christopher, and as Buck has recently come to find out, things that concern him too. He gets overwhelmed every now and then, needing space and distractions that are work, the gym, or an afternoon tinkering with his truck.

For a creature of habit, it says a lot that even Buck can notice the visible changes in him now too.

He smiles a little wider now, laughs a little louder like his ribs are finally loose from the muscles of his chest. Eddie gets up to being pouty and pulling shenanigans as much as everyone else in the 118, he's open about childhood stories and shares more of his life with everyone. There's so much of it, little things that anyone can allot for a good day but Buck, sappy and oh so in love Buck, knows better.

Buck already knew from the moment Eddie started volunteering for those extra shifts, lying through his teeth about wanting to earn a little more money for Christmas and school expenses, that there was something nagging on his mind. He'd asked about it, went to some lengths to try and see if Eddie would talk but Buck knows when to choose his battles now. Buck can wait for Eddie to open up about it and he did.

He wonders if Eddie's talk with Bobby played any part in this. It's a good change. Maybe a change Eddie didn’t expect, but a change, Buck hopes, he welcomes.

Buck watches as Eddie's lips curve into a smile, looking up at the front view mirror, angling his gaze to Chris. “Christopher?”

“The mermaid thing sounds cool, but can we do the zoo first actually? Denny, Mara and Jee haven’t been there as often as us, so they haven’t seen most of the animals there yet.” Christopher says, lips pursed in thought.

Eddie turns to Buck, and he shrugs. It's not a bad idea. He was still on medical leave till the month ended to recuperate and Chris was taking it easy with high school since he came back, spending more time with his cousins that were around LA and with the other kids. Spending time with the kids sounds like a great idea too, especially if it means Eddie would be right beside him.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Eddie knows he's been raising Buck's suspicion, but he pushes through in the face of Jee's enthusiasm at “planning” Buck's surprise. It wasn't very big, just a little family dinner with the Grant-Nash, and Denny and Mara. The timing, as Hen and Karen put it, was godsent. They've been planning on their own little date night for a while and Eddie had grinned at the utter glee in Karen's tone when given the opportunity for some alone time with Hen. And Eddie, being the good friend that he is, was more than happy to take the kids out of their hands.

And so, with Bobby, Jee, and Athena on the move, so was Eddie.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on Eddie's side when Christopher’s teachers had called in the parent group chat about school being canceled and had wheeled him straight from the Grant-Nash to the hospital to entertain Buck. Seeing the two of them chat, hearing the cadence of their voice that shifted from serious to joking in a matter of minutes, was something straight out of a goddamn dream. With their course of bad luck lately, having the time to sit with his son and the love of his life made his body beam like a sunflower facing the sun.

He snuck in and out of the room for the whole day, calling Bobby, who was setting up the house for the dinner, in between . Jee loved to babble in between conversations and while it was definitely fun to talk to her, it also took up a bit of his time, which led to Buck's suspicion. Again, his son, who was in on the plan, is a literal angel and distracted his boyfriend well enough. Chris has always been Buck’s weak spot.

Their trip home is quiet, taking the long way home as soon as Buck passed out on the seat with Chris napping on the backseat. The radio filled the silence, his hand brushing briefly over Buck's every now and then. Just a gentle touch to assure himself that Buck is still there.

When they arrive, he lets Chris out of the car first, the passenger door wide open as Buck sits, waiting for Eddie to hop out with the bags in hand.

Buck's gaze was heavy. Eddie could feel the weight of it as he approached Buck’s door.

“So, zoo trip. Museum. Mermaids.” Buck says his voice a little raspy.

His smile softens. The sun bleeds pink and orange onto the streets, casting shadows on the driveway. Buck's hair turns gold with it, his eyes glistening ocean blue and speckling green. Eddie resists the urge to reach out. Run his hand through his hair. Cradle his cheeks and pepper kisses all over his birthmark and the little scars on his face.

He hums, leaning beside him. Casual enough. But Eddie wants him closer. Close close close.

His lips curl to a playful smirk. “What, you want to go to a Michelin star restaurant too? I don't think that's Chris’ scene but sure.”

Buck laughs and swats his arm. “I'm just saying. Seems a little out of the blue. I thought you had that shift with Ravi next week?”

Eddie shakes his head, strands of hair tickling his forehead. He should get a haircut, probably. And a shave. But Buck's been loving his hair and the stubble lately, so maybe not so soon.

“Nah, Chim's back by that time and I'm sure he would appreciate the extra shift. Besides, I want to spend time with you guys.”

“Yeah?” Buck's murmurs, his hand clasped over his shoulder and Eddie can't help but lean into it.

“Of course.”

Eddie wants to kiss him. They're so close. He could turn around, lean in, and kiss him till the sun sets and it's dark out. But his son is inside, and he really wants to show Buck their little surprise.

“I love you.” Buck says. It's sweet and simple and Eddie could cry. To feel he's loved is a blessing. To know it, to have it be expressed like it was the easiest thing in the world is healing.

“I know.”

A beat passes. He can see Bobby and Athena mingling about through the windows, their shadows passing in and out of frame with Jee following them around like a little duckling. The sight is beautiful; warm. Gratitude and fondness bubble in his chest at his home being filled with even more love outside of himself, Christopher, and Buck.

Eddie, Christopher, and Buck.

BuckAndEddieAndChristopher. It sounds right. It feels goddamn right.

There are still so many things he's afraid of. So many things he's scared to f*ck up and set in flames, but he's never wanted so much, has never needed so much that it ached like a dying tooth. The type you're scared to let the dentist pull out because it's still swollen and it hurts but the longer it stays there, the more it festers and makes you miserable.

Eddie's made a f*ckton of mistakes but Buck and the family they could have, he's sure, will never be one of them.

He plays around with the thought in his head, tests out the words on his tongue and only tastes fear if ever Buck says no. If Buck rejects him and tells him he's not ready and he might never be, despite their recent talk.

But damn it, Eddie's allowed this, right? He could have this.

Eddie braces himself.

“I want to tell Chris about us.” There. f*ck. He said it. The tooth was pulled and he's raw and exposed, like his mouth bare to a dentist patting down the bleeding.

“Chris might not have the best reaction.” Comes the answer and well — it's not a no. Eddie can work with that.

“I’m not saying to do it now. I just, I want to tell him. It's getting harder to keep it from him and Buck, I want to be able to spend time with you, okay? Sleep in our bed with you in it, kiss you in our living room and not look behind me.”

Buck looks a little stricken, a little overwhelmed. “I want that too. I want it so much; you have no idea. But I love Christopher and I'm not going to do something that might hurt him and if he says no– If he doesn't like it then I– I don't know what I'd do.”

Eddie wonders if it's even possible to love someone so much more when you already love them in an unquantifiable amount. Buck didn't even stop to think about himself and thought of Chris immediately like it was the most normal thing. God. His heart could burst right now.

“Hey, I'm scared too. But it's a good thing we'll bear it together, right?” He asks, hoping to reassure him.

“Always for you, y-y-you know that. I just want what's best for you and Christopher.” Buck says, but the way he stutters makes Eddie turn fully, looking up at Buck as he sits, his legs stretched out. Buck only stutters when he's really nervous, or he's really scared. Right now, he looks like both.

Throwing his care to the wind, he takes Buck's hands in his.

“Hey, if Christopher doesn’t react well, or if he, I don't know, has something to say about it, I know we'll both hear him out, right? We'll listen to him and try to do our best with whatever happens along the way. But I know what I want and it's you, in our home, with our son. You're what's best for us. You're it, Buck.”

If he holds Buck's hand any tighter, he's afraid he might break a few bones but with the way Buck holds on just as tight, Eddie presses their intertwined hands to his chest, right where his heart beats in perfect, steady rhythm.

“There's no rush. I just wanted you to know I'm ready.” Eddie promises. No more rushing into things. This time, Eddie is sure.

It seems to settle Buck, the worry flitting through his eyes until it's replaced by relief. Eddie feels Buck's hands splay open, thumb pressing into his clavicle. “I know. I- I know I have a lot to work through too, but you and I… I’m ready for it. I’m… really excited.” The giggle is unmistakable, a little shaky but it’s hopeful. Bright.Buck continues. “This is just… Everything I've ever wanted. Everything. I love you and Christopher so much, Eddie. I would do anything for you and knowing you want it too - want me too. It just— It's a lot. But I want it. Us.”

“You don't have to do anything to make me love you. I love you anyway, Buck. You could do nothing but breathe all day and I would thank whatever is out there for making sure that you are.”

Eddie takes the risk. Standing on the tip of his toes as he reaches out for Buck; a hand in his hair, the other cradling the soft underside of his jaw and his thumb set on the firm thumpthumpthump of Buck's pulse. Buck's lips are warm, a little chapped but still soft and plump and he kisses like he's going to inhale him. Breathless, he pulls back to admire the gleam in Buck's eyes, his dilated pupils and his hair a little mussed.

“Damn, I really missed that.” Eddie sighs almost dreamily.

The laughter that escapes Buck is as lovely as the last and Eddie wants to capture it. Bottle it up and keep it safe so he can have something to pop open on dark, gloomy days where it feels as if life has no purpose. It's in the brightness of that laugh, the careless joy in it, and the steady beat of his heart, the certainty that pulses along with it, that Eddie finally, truly realizes that everything will be okay.

—

When they head inside, Jee-Yun is the first one to throw herself at Buck, her arms stretched wide over his legs, and he carries her right into his arms as she tells him about the very elaborate plan she threw for his return. The kids flock to him and migraine be damned, he lets them hog over him as he lays down on the couch, his eyes searching for Eddie's every now and then. He'd find him under the kitchen doorway, already looking right back at him and they'd share a smile, furtive and small and only for him. Even though Hen, Karen, Maddie, and Chimney weren't here, the presence of the kids was enough to warm up the house and kick up a ruckus. Bobby and Athena putter about in the kitchen with Eddie, their laughter hanging over the air and it's — home.

It's family.

So, what if the universe likes to play around a little? In the end, the road leads back to this. Not the skyline of Pennsylvania and certainly not the haunting of dead brothers, wives, and accidental roof collapses. No.

This is where Buck is meant to be.

For all intents and purposes, Buck would like to clarify that he is still a big believer in the universe. He's hopelessly hopeful and he'll still get his tarot reading even if they're probably inaccurate. If there's a newspaper, he'll look up his astrology sign and read about his horoscope and take it with a grain of salt and a heaping spoonful of trust.

As he said once, the universe screams and maybe, the universe was on his side, sh*tty migraines and all.

“ Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine, / Meanwhile the world goes on. ”

— Wild Geese, Mary Oliver