Chapter Text
Day six brings a minor setback. Very minor. But enough that Eddie almost melts down over it.
He turns up to Buck’s hospital room at his usual time, finds that Buck is still asleep – which is unlike him – and stays asleep even as Eddie pulls up a chair and settles in, which is even more not like him. Eddie’s alarmed enough to flag down a nurse, who listens to his slightly paranoid ramblings with the patience of a saint.
“He’s still sleeping,” Eddie says, alarmed. “That’s not like him.”
“He’s got a little fever,” the nurse says kindly. “Don’t worry, the doctors have already run tests to rule out infection.”
Eddie nods uneasily. Fever after surgery is common, and while Buck is warm to the touch, he’s not hot.
“We think the stress of the extubation, the removal of the chest tube, and being up and about is probably causing it,” the nurse adds. “He’s been quite groggy, but not distressed. I think he’d benefit from you sitting with him, love.”
“Thanks,” Eddie says, taking up his usual spot at Buck’s bedside. “He was up?”
“Early this morning. We took the catheter out and he managed to walk up and down the hallway unaided. He said you’d want him to wait for you, but he was determined.”
“Sounds like him,” Eddie says with a smile. He can’t bring himself to be annoyed that Buck didn’t wait – if he felt well enough to be up and moving, that’s the most important thing. “Thank you.”
The nurses leave, and Eddie settles in. Buck’s still in a hospital gown, and he doesn’t look all that comfortable – a few times, he shivers, and Eddie pulls the blankets up over him a little more. He’s worried about Shannon – but he can’t go see her, because she’s in the ICU and they’re divorced. No news is good news, right?
“Eddie?”
He looks up from his phone. Buck is watching him drowsily.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Eddie says. “How’re you feeling?”
“Thirsty,” Buck croaks.
Eddie gets him some water, because he definitely sounds parched, and Buck drinks it eagerly. His hand wanders to his side, where the chest tube was – he makes a face.
“Sore?” Eddie asks.
“They took it out.”
“Yeah, yesterday. Remember?”
“That was yesterday?” Buck rubs his eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I’ve completely lost any sense of time. How long was I asleep today?”
“Nurses said you woke up early, went for a walk around the ward, then you were out again. You’ve got a fever, but it’s not bad and they’re not worried.”
“Oh. That’s good.” Buck shifts. “When do I get out of here?”
“No idea. I don’t think Dr. Ma is even considering releasing you yet.” Eddie holds up the bag he brought with him. “Got you some things to keep you entertained, though.”
Buck sits up a little, wincing, his fingers playing over where the chest tube was. The site must be bothering him a little bit. “Yeah?” he asks.
“Yep. Most importantly…” Eddie pulls the Spider-Man blanket out, and Buck laughs hoarsely. “This was with you for your first hospital stay, so it has to stay with you now.”
“It does fix everything.” Buck takes it. “Know what else fixes everything?”
“Drugs.”
“Hugs, Eddie. Come sit on the bed with me?”
“Buck, you’ve just had really invasive, serious surgery. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m on lots of drugs. Please?”
Eddie – under the sudden realization that he actually hasn’t been able to hug Buck at all, past the chest tube, oxygen mask, breathing tube and every other bit of wiring and plastic sticking out of his boyfriend’s body – caves. Buck wouldn’t ask if he was in serious pain, and Buck’s a person who needs physical touch like he needs air.
“Okay,” Eddie says, and Buck smiles as he stands, then kicks his shoes off. “If the nurses yell at me-”
“I’ll take the blame, promise.” Buck scoots over – Eddie settles into bed with him, careful of the wires sticking out of the back of Buck’s hand. The second he’s close enough, Buck’s body collapses into his, and they just lie there for a while – Buck with his head on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie categorizing the bruises and scrapes and cuts he can see all over Buck’s arms and upper chest.
“Sorry,” Buck says.
“Huh? For what?”
“I think I smell bad,” Buck says ruefully.
Eddie – who was expecting an overwrought but typical Buck apology for getting injured through no fault of his own – laughs a little. “I can’t smell anything. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He’s uncharacteristically warm – warmer than he would be normally – but not enough to worry about, not like he was with the flu he had late last year. “Hey, if you’re up to it later, I’ll help you take a shower, okay?”
“Sounds great,” Buck says. “Sponge baths from nurses who tell you about their kids’ daycare to try and distract you… they just aren’t all that sexy.”
“I don’t think they’re supposed to be.”
~*~
“This also isn’t very sexy.”
“You know what? I’m going to go there.” Eddie lowers Buck onto the bench in the shower room. “I’m just going to say it. Nothing about hospitals is sexy.”
“Take it back,” Buck demands.
“Nope,” Eddie says, untying Buck’s hospital gown. “Can you get out of your super-sexy paper underwear on your own, or do you need help?”
Buck slides them down, even though his legs are visibly wobbling with the effort. He’s stronger than Eddie expected and still weak enough to make Eddie’s heart pound anxiously.
“Grey’s Anatomy,” Buck says suddenly.
“What?” Eddie stands to turn the water on – Buck splutters as it gets in his eyes. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Grey’s Anatomy,” Buck insists. “Full of super sexy characters. Doing sexy stuff. And all the spinoffs are exactly the same. Nobody unattractive to be seen.”
“It’s television, Buck.” Eddie grabs the soap, wets a washcloth, and gets started on Buck’s shoulders and chest, being careful to avoid the worst of the cuts and be gentle over everything he can touch. “You should just be happy the nurses let me help you shower.”
“And yet it still isn’t going my way.”
“We are not having any kind of sex in a hospital shower. You’re barely functional.”
“We had sex that one time when I had the flu.”
“Which was a mistake.”
“It wasn’t.” Buck sighs, then. “Besides, I’m kidding. No offence, but I don’t think I could get it up right now if you were actively giving me head.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Eddie re-soaps the cloth. “You’re down a few pints of blood, you have a hole in your lung, your leg is shredded, your head is very nearly cracked like an egg, your kidneys have only just stopped bleeding in retribution, and your liver is fileted like Hannibal Lecter himself got to it. Really, nobody expects you to be able to get hard.”
“Fileted like Hannibal Lecter himself got to it… is it weird I’m proud of you for thinking of that?”
“Yes,” Eddie says vehemently. “Does none of this bother you?”
“I’m alive and the doctors said I’ll be fine. It bothers me that I’m injured… again… which means more time off work, but…”
Eddie shakes his head. “Bobby’s got you sorted on that front.”
“Really?” Buck asks.
“He said he had a plan. Didn’t elaborate, but you’ll have a job.” Eddie lifts Buck’s arm, gently, to be able to get to where the chest tube was inserted. Buck lets him, rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “How’s this feel? You kept trying to touch it before.”
“It’s itchy,” Buck says. “Doesn’t hurt.”
It’s been closed with two neat little stitches, which is probably why. “That’s good. Hey, how would you feel about seeing Chris tomorrow?”
Buck brightens immeasurably. “Really?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t bring him in before, you were…”
Buck shakes his head. “I understand. But yeah, tomorrow sounds good. I’ll put on my best sweats.” He winces. “You brought me clothes, right? I don’t have to wear the hospital gown anymore?”
“Yeah, I got you a few changes of clothes. And your laptop.”
“I love you,” Buck says reverently. “I’d love you more if you stopped getting water in my eyes, though.”
“You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who very recently could hardly breathe,” Eddie grumbles.
“Say you love me too,” Buck whines.
“I love you too. Obviously. Now let me wash your hair.”
~*~
Buck – despite all pretenses otherwise – is exhausted after a shower, and once he’s back in bed, he’s asleep almost right away.
Eddie stays. He’s just not keen on leaving – and anyway, Chris is in school, and he doesn’t have work. He settles in with a good book, glancing up every now and then at Buck. He’s resting easily, his head tilted towards Eddie.
After an hour or so, a nurse comes in and smiles silently at Eddie. She fits a thermometer gently into Buck’s ear – he doesn’t stir – and waits until it beeps lightly.
“His fever is down,” she whispers to Eddie.
Eddie smiles. “That’s good. Thank you.”
“Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”
He is, actually, which he didn’t realise – he barely had breakfast, which was a slice of toast and some coffee, and he’s skipped everything but water since. He’s been so focused on Buck he’s forgotten to eat.
“I am, actually,” he realizes aloud.
“Well, you can go grab something.” She smiles again. “I’ll stay with him for a while.”
“You will?”
“Of course. We’re not supposed to have favourites… but he’s my best patient by far.”
Eddie laughs quietly. “Sounds like him, making friends even from a hospital bed. Thank you. Do you want anything?”
Her face lights up, and Eddie’s soon entering the cafeteria – he picks up enough for himself, a coffee for the nurse who’s with Buck, and some snacks for Buck as well. He’s still not eating all that much, but Eddie suspects it’s because the hospital food is so bland and dry.
When he gets back, the nurse – Molly, Eddie discovers – is changing some of Buck’s dressings, on his leg. Buck is quietly letting her, answering questions when asked, but not volunteering information. He sounds groggy – clearly, he’s just woken up.
“Hey,” Eddie says.
“Hmm, morning,” Buck says, and Eddie doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s afternoon. “Ooh, food?”
“So your appetite is back,” Eddie says, amused. “Yeah, I got you some food.” He passes Molly her coffee as well. “Thanks for staying with him.”
She smiles. “No trouble.”
“She said I’m delightful,” Buck yawns.
“Probably more delightful now that you’ve had a shower,” Eddie agrees.
“Rude,” Buck sniffs, but he shuffles over and upright to be able to eat. “Thanks for getting food. Was I asleep long?”
“A couple of hours.”
Buck yawns again. “I’m sleeping a lot, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but you’re recovering from pretty massive surgery, Buck. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Mr. Diaz?”
It’s Shannon’s primary doctor, waiting politely at the doorway to Buck’s room. Buck glances at him curiously – Eddie’s fairly sure that Buck hasn’t actually seen Shannon’s doctor before now – but doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah?” he asks slowly.
“Just a word?”
He’s heard those words before. Hell, he’s even used them – at war and after, and even more now, working as a firefighter. Just a word conveys everything that they’re not strictly supposed to say in front of other people – and it’s never good news.
He swallows, nods, and turns to Buck. “I’ll be back,” he promises.
Buck nods, and Eddie follows the doctor out. He looks exhausted – then again, they all do; Eddie knows how long they work, what hours they keep. He’s wondered before how they can possibly be capable of thinking straight after a certain point, but then, he and the rest of the 118 and every other firefighter work twenty-four hour shifts.
“How is she?” he asks, once they’re in a quiet part of the hallway.
The doctor sighs. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Mr. Diaz,” he says softly. “We should have seen some improvement by now – even a little bit. We’ve yet to see that.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, evenly – it’s not the doctor’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault except the drunk driver who hit them both. “What’s the expectation, then?”
“If she wakes up,” he says, watching Eddie’s face carefully, “we aren’t entirely sure if she’ll remember anything, or what outcome her injuries may leave her with.”
He’s been here before, really. When Buck was stabbed by Matt and unconscious in hospital, they warned everyone that he may not remember anything when he woke up – that he could have total or partial amnesia, that there could be a host of other functions that were adversely affected.
He’s been here before, and he still doesn’t know what to do.
“If she wakes up?” he asks.
“We would have expected to see something by now, but it isn’t entirely impossible.” He pauses again. “I’d recommend getting family here,” he says quietly, “and preparing your son.”
Preparing Christopher for his mother’s death. How the hell is he supposed to do that? Should he even do it, or should he wait until they’re out of this strange limbo – until something happens, one way or another?
He doesn’t know what’s right, here.
“Thank you,” he says hollowly, and the doctor gives him a pained smile and a pat on the shoulder before taking his leave.
Eddie stands in the hallway for a moment. How many times has he stood here, having serious conversations with loved ones? How many times has he thought someone’s going to die only for them to pull through?
Fuck, how many times has it been Buck?
Slowly, he opens the door to Buck’s room and steps back inside. Molly gives him a benign, polite smile as she leaves; Buck watches him approach, saying nothing, seeming to sense his confusion.
He sits down. Buck still says nothing, but Eddie can feel his eyes on him. He’s curious – Eddie can’t blame him for that – and clearly wants to know what’s going on, but he’s waiting patiently instead of pushing.
They’ve worked each other out, slowly but surely.
“They said I should prepare Chris,” he says hollowly.
Buck sucks in a breath. His hand reaches for Eddie’s, covers it. Even with the tubes coming in and out, even with the IV and wires and the general temperature of the room, Buck’s skin is warm and calloused from firefighting. Undeniably alive.
“They think…?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, they do.” He rubs his face with his free hand. “How the fuck do I do that?” he asks. “How am I supposed to tell my kid his mom is…”
They were just sort of finding their way back, as well. With everything that had happened, Chris had been worried to spend time with Shannon – at least, when the boyfriend was around – but they’ve been working towards something. To have all that snatched away…
“I’ll be there,” Buck says quietly. “I mean, probably in here, you know. But I’ll be there.” He makes a face. “I’ve never told anyone I know that someone they love might… die,” he says. “I’ve told strangers during calls. But never anything like this.”
He hasn’t either, is the thing. He never thought it would need to be a conversation he’d have. Telling Chris that Shannon had left them was hard enough – trying to answer questions about when she’d come back, or why she left in the first place.
He’s not sure what’s worse – that Chris will understand the permanence of it, or that he won’t.
“Eddie,” Buck says, reaching for his hand. He’s pale-faced still, but eyes are bright and alert, azure in his face. “I’ll be there.”
Eddie nods. “Gotta work out what to say first,” he says, slumped in his chair. He’s a puppet with cut strings: his muscles don’t want to hold him up anymore, and his brain might as well be made of nothing more than fog. He’s so goddamn tired and there’s nothing he can do about it, because people still need him. “He’s already gone through so much – lost so much.”
Buck opens and closes his mouth. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say to that – he can’t refute it, because it’s true and he knows it. The tsunami, Buck himself getting hurt, everything with Shannon’s ex, Shannon herself being back – Chris is resilient, but how much can he really take?
“Can you get me my phone?” Buck asks, motioning to it.
Eddie reaches for it, hands it over. “They told you not to stare at a screen,” he says tiredly.
“I’m not gonna,” Buck promises. “I just need to call someone, that’s all.”
Eddie leans back, crosses his arms, and raises an eyebrow at a decidedly sheepish looking Buck. Everyone they both know has come to visit – and eve some they don’t; he’s pretty sure there isn’t anyone they’ve missed, unless it’s someone he doesn’t know, for whatever reason.
“Someone,” he says.
“Yeah!” Buck smiles. “I – I think she can help.”
~*~
Telling Chris about Shannon goes – about as well as expected.
Eddie and Buck sit him down, in Buck’s room, and they talk it through slowly. Asked later, Eddie won’t be able to remember what, specifically, he said – he only remembers trying to avoid telling Chris she might be “going to heaven” because in the little pamphlet the hospital’s grief counsellor gave him, it said to avoid it. Because then, apparently, kids can think that their family member is just – on holiday.
He doesn’t even know how Chris takes it, not really. He cries, but not as much as Eddie had expected; he curls up against Buck, in bed, and plays his Switch. Buck – who shoots Eddie a helplessly concerned expression – puts an arm around him to help, giving Eddie a precious few minutes to step into the hallway and try to collect himself.
He doesn’t know if Chris’s response to being told that his mom is likely to die is normal or not. Is there even a normal reaction to have to news like that?
Finally – with the sun beginning to dip and Buck beginning to look drowsy and worn out – Eddie coaxes Chris off the bed.
“Time to go home, mijo,” he murmurs. “We need to let Buck sleep.”
Chris clings to his boyfriend for a long moment, only separating with Eddie’s gentle tug at his armpits to help him down from the bed. He leans over too – takes a moment to savor in Buck’s aliveness when he leans in for a kiss, swallowing thickly in the aftermath.
He can’t say he wants to go. But Buck will still be here tomorrow morning.
“Get some sleep,” he advises.
“Hey,” Buck says, when he turns to go. “You too.”
“I’ll try,” Eddie promises. “C’mon, mijo.”
The hospital is quieter than when they got here, most visitors having already left. For a while, it’s just the two of them, Eddie’s hand idly at Chris’s back, guiding him along silently.
Chris stops short in the hallway, and the silence left where his crutches should be clacking softly against the ground gives Eddie pause. When he turns, his kid is standing there, looking up at him, mouth wobbling threateningly.
“I don’t wanna go home,” he says.
“Chris,” Eddie says helplessly.
“Buck’s hurt,” Chris says, and his voice breaks, big tears slipping down from under his glasses. “I don’t wanna leave him here.”
“Buddy,” Eddie croaks, squatting down, “Buck’s coming home tomorrow. He’s going to be okay. He’s coming home.”
“B-But he’s got stuff coming out of his arms,” Chris sobs, tears dripping down his chin. “And h-his head is h-hurt and he’s s-sad-”
It’s not like Chris hasn’t seen Buck injured before, but it has to be hard for him to process on top of everything else. Eddie swallows down his own tears, then makes a choice – one that, hopefully, is the best for all three of them.
“Okay,” he says, and picks Chris up. “C’mon.”
Chris clings to him, only not struggling when he realizes Eddie’s headed away from the exit, instead of towards it. Nobody stops them – maybe nobody dares, or maybe they feel too sorry for him.
He shoulders open the door to Buck’s room, because he’s juggling Chris with both hands. Buck is awake, watching television. He’s still pale, but he’s starting to look better.
“Eddie?”
“He doesn’t want to leave you,” Eddie says helplessly. “I know you need to rest, but-”
Buck shakes his head, puts the rail to his bed down, and shuffles over, making enough room for all of them. Eddie puts Chris down next to him, then climbs in on Buck’s other side – Buck’s still in a gown and smells like antiseptic and hospital soap and looks tired.
“Just so we’re clear,” Eddie says, his voice cracking, “I don’t want to leave you either.”
Buck rests his head against Eddie’s shoulder, using both arms to hold Chris close. “So don’t,” he whispers, staring up at Eddie’s face.
He opens his mouth to protest – that the nurses will come and kick him out regardless – but finds he doesn’t have it in him; he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
For now, he’s content to move back into the chair he only just vacated, watch Chris hug Buck, and wait.
~*~
Shannon’s condition doesn’t improve. It doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t improve.
Meanwhile, Buck has been cleared for release. The 118 throws a mini early-release party in his tiny hospital room, and Hen takes Chris for the day on the morning of his discharge.
“We’ll take him and Denny to the park after school,” she says, giving Eddie a warm, tired smile. “We could all do with a little more fresh air.”
Normally, he’d let Chris tag along – but Eddie isn’t sure the hospital is the best environment for him, and Buck is going to be sore and tired; if Chris is there, his heart-of-gold boyfriend will inevitably put on an act to make sure Chris doesn’t worry, and that’ll tire him out more.
Buck needs – deserves – time and space to be allowed to feel. To go quiet if he wants, and to not have to pretend not to be in pain for anyone’s benefit.
“Where’s Chris?” is the first thing out of Buck’s mouth when Eddie returns with his discharge papers.
“Hen’s got him, they’re going to the park,” Eddie says. “Figured he could use a distraction, you know, do some fun kid things. And you could use the rest.”
Buck smiles wearily. “Yeah.”
And – without Chris there – Buck doesn’t pretend. He’s quiet and relatively slow-moving as they collect all his things, get him dressed, and then make the shuffle to the wheelchair that’ll take him outside, to where Eddie has parked the car.
He’s got a paper bag in his lap, all drugs needed to keep him pain and infection free. Part of Eddie rails at the idea of more drugs – like the recent surgeries and blood thinners and everything else wasn’t enough – and the other part of him traitorously whispers that it could be worse; Buck could be Shannon, on a ventilator, toeing the line between this world and the next.
“Need help?” he asks, opening the car door.
“I think I got it,” Buck says, beginning to swing himself in gingerly.
The drive home is almost silent.
Buck is in the passenger seat. He’s pale-faced and his eyes have bruises under them and he’s blinking rapidly every few seconds, shifting like he’s trying to stay awake. He’s wearing a hoodie that’s far too big for Eddie, but fits him alright, if a little loosely.
“Buck,” Eddie says softly.
Buck blinks.
“Go to sleep, querido. I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”
Buck shifts in his seat. “I’m hot,” he says, eventually.
They pull up at a red light, so far back in the queue that they probably won’t get through on the next green. Eddie reaches over - Buck feels warm, but not feverishly so. Maybe just overheated, uncomfortable.
“Want the air on?” Eddie asks.
Buck shakes his head, digs his hands into his eyes exhaustedly. He’s trying to stay awake.
“It’s not fair,” he says finally.
Eddie closes his eyes briefly. “Buck…”
“No, it’s just - it’s not,” Buck says. “I was more seriously hurt than Shannon was. Ricky was there too and he lived. Why’d it have to be her?”
Eddie’s not sure. He doesn’t have the answers. He’s not sure anyone does.
“All that shit in court just for her to get hit and nearly killed by some fucking idiot day drinking,” Buck says bitterly. “Two seconds earlier or two seconds later and we would’ve been fine. Two seconds. That was all we needed.”
“You’re gonna drive yourself insane thinking like that,” Eddie says softly. “Trust me, I would know.”
Buck looks at him. “You get it?”
Eddie swallows. “When you got stabbed and beaten up by Matt, and you were in hospital, I had a lot of time to think,” he says. “About what would’ve happened if I’d just heard you out at any point in the two weeks beforehand. If I’d answered my calls. If I’d just - just kissed you instead of rejecting you. There were plenty of seconds that mattered there and I made the wrong choice every time. The doctors said you might not even be the same person when you woke up. And all I could think was that I’d spent two weeks rejecting you because I was a fucking coward. So yeah, I know what’s going through your mind.”
“I knew who you were,” Buck says. “The second I woke up. And Shannon never got to.”
Eddie takes a second to look at him - and is somewhat shocked to find that Buck is crying. Even as he watches, Buck uses his sleeves to wipe at his eyes.
“It’s not fucking fair,” Buck says. “She ditched Ricky. She was doing the right thing. She was just starting to come back into Chris’s life and he needs her. She’s his mom, he needs her.”
Eddie’s own eyes prick at that - he reaches out, puts a hand on Buck’s thigh. Buck’s fingers close around his.
They say nothing for the rest of the drive.
~*~
Buck sleeps until they get back.
When Eddie does pull up, he does it gently, leaves Buck in the car as he takes everything inside. Buck’s going to be in pain for a while - again.
He dreads having to wake the guy up, but Buck isn’t Chris and Eddie can’t carry him. He opens the passenger side door - and accidentally frightens Buck awake in the process. He comes to gasping - a combination of fear and pain by the sounds of it - and bunches his legs like he’s going to try and run.
“Easy, easy!” Eddie says, alarmed. “I’m sorry.”
Buck swallows. “S’okay.” He rubs his eyes. “We’re back?” He asks exhaustedly.
“Yeah.” Eddie leans away from him. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
Buck limps out of the truck, and up the stairs to the house, with Eddie’s hand steadying on his lower back. He makes a beeline for the couch – flops down onto it with a wince. Eddie gets the sense he isn’t going anywhere.
“Chris is at school,” Eddie says.
“Huh? School? But-”
“He wanted to go,” Eddie says helplessly. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I let him, but I told the teachers if he was struggling I’d go get him.”
“Yeah, of course.” Buck rolls onto his back with a wince. “I’ll be okay here.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. There’s a TV.” Buck yawns. “So much more peaceful with no heart monitor,” he mumbles. “I get that it’s necessary but it’s annoying.”
“Yeah.”
True to form, Buck falls asleep there, the TV playing lowly in the background. Terrified of what will happen if he sits still, or stops, for even a moment, Eddie gets to work – unpacking gifts, putting flowers in vases, setting up cards. He strips their bedsheets, puts new ones on, runs the washing machine.
Halfway through his frantic cleaning, Buck wakes – long enough to drink something, go to the bathroom, and then stumble off into their freshly-made bed. He’s still moving slowly, but he’s moving, and Eddie can live with that for now.
He checks his phone. No news on Shannon.
At a loss, he goes outside. The back yard is a mess; he begins to clean that up, too, puts away all the outdoor toys and stacks their shoes neatly on the rack. By the time he’s done with the place, it looks ready for a magazine shoot – nothing out of place, nothing wonky or homeless.
It’s tidier than when they first moved in.
He’s leaning on the counter, staring into soapy dishwater, when he hears Buck padding out of the bedroom – and coming up behind him.
“Eddie?”
He lifts his head. Buck’s wearing boxers and a thin, baggy white tank top – the cut in his thigh and the bruising all over his body is hideously obvious, on display, and he looks exhausted. His cast glints dully in the overhead lights – he’s cradling it close to his body.
“Sorry,” Eddie says, straightening up and trying to wipe his eyes. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“You should have,” Buck murmurs, limping closer to him.
Eddie folds into Buck’s embrace when the man is close enough, lets himself sigh – only the sigh turns into a sob, and the sob turns into more. He’s crying full-force before he can do anything about it, and Buck holds him tightly.
“I got you,” Buck’s whispering into his neck. “I got you, Eddie.”
Somehow, for the first time – that isn’t enough.