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Buck is drowning, and he’s absolutely fine with it.
He’s fine with it because Eddie’s hands are hot on the back of his neck, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin behind Buck’s ears as he kisses him, and his mouth is warm and wet inside. He smells and tastes so familiar, even though Buck is 99.99% sure he’s never kissed Eddie before. But he’s definitely kissing him now.
Buck can’t remember how he got here, but he’s not complaining. One of Eddie’s hands drops to his collarbone, and his fingers run along the length of it until they reach the hollow at the base of Buck’s throat. Eddie moans, a guttural sound, and pulls back for a moment, brushing a haphazard kiss over Buck’s cheekbone, then his nose, and then he kisses Buck’s mouth deeply again. Buck opens up for him automatically, feels like he’s being consumed and loves it.
Outside of the kiss, water runs down the side of Buck’s face because it’s raining. The sky overhead is dark with clouds, and it’s been raining since Eddie kissed him. Buck thinks it has, anyway. He’s too busy sucking face with Eddie to really pay attention to the rain and the timing of the rain showers.
The fingers Eddie’s rested between his collar bones start to wander over Buck’s chest and down along his stomach, inching closer to the zip of his jeans. Buck’s breath starts to come in faster pants, and he kisses Eddie more fiercely, hoping against hope that this will go where Buck thinks it’s going. He doesn’t even care that they’re outside and it’s raining…
Wait, are they outside?
Much as it pains him to do it, Buck breaks away from kissing Eddie and looks around.
To his right, he sees the familiar railing of his loft; to his left, the staircase appears. Eddie sucks at the pulse point just under Buck’s jaw, and Buck shivers as his eyes trail somewhat hazily over the rest of his bedroom furniture. But then he realizes his TV is gone. Why the hell is his TV gone? Buck opens his mouth to ask Eddie if he knows, and—
—he wakes up—
—to a rain shower over his bed.
No, not a rain shower. A sprinkler. Water stings his eyes, and Buck rolls to his side, pulling the duvet over his head to shield himself while he tries to figure out what the hell is going on.
Suddenly, a piercing tone fills his ears. He’d know that sound anywhere.
Buck stumbles out of bed. He grabs the first shirt he sees (yesterday’s T-shirt, soaking wet), and staggers toward the stairs. The entire landing is nearly flooded, as if the sprinkler system had been going for a long time before the alarm kicked in. Buck reaches the bottom of the stairs and sloshes through puddles of water to get to the front door. He grabs his keys off of the kitchen counter along the way and stuffs them into the pocket of his sweatpants.
Minutes later, as he’s standing outside with his equally-soggy neighbors and freezing his ass off, Buck learns that it was a sprinkler system malfunction. Someone’s called the property manager, who tells them the fire department is on the way and that part of the building is flooded.
When the 118 engine pulls up behind the others, Bobby and Hen hopping out, Buck groans and calls, “Why did it have to be you guys?”
“Nice to see you, too,” Hen says, coming over to him. “Are you good?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Buck assures her, hugging his arms around himself to try to get some warmth into his cold, wet limbs. “I think something went wrong with the sprinkler system?”
“Do you want a blanket?”
“I’m okay,” Buck tells her, even though he is really fucking cold. “Eddie and Ravi going in?”
“Hooking up with the 133,” Hen says. “If you’re okay, I’m gonna help triage…”
“Yes, go,” Buck replies. He takes a step back and chafes his arms with his palms again, trying to get his blood flowing. Who knew standing outside while soaking wet at two in the morning would be one of the coldest experiences of his life? It’s unexpected. Buck kind of wishes he had accepted Hen’s offer of a blanket.
He sees Eddie going by with Ravi and lifts his hand in a wave. Then Buck remembers what he’d been dreaming about before the sprinklers so rudely interrupted his sleep, and a hot flush starts across his face. The rest of his body is so cold that the two warring sensations send his head spinning. He stumbles to the side a little bit and tries unsuccessfully to shake it off.
He doesn’t notice Eddie breaking off from the group to jog over to him until a strong arm is there to support him. Buck lifts his head, face still flaming, and meets Eddie’s eyes under the brim of his helmet.
“Buck, are you hurt?” Eddie asks a little frantically. “Didn’t Hen triage you?”
Buck nods, feeling very stupid. Eddie’s strong grip on his upper arms feels like a searing brand, even through Eddie’s thick gloves. He knows Eddie is just worried that Buck is seriously hurt, but the intensity of his gaze and the concern in his voice plucks at some long-buried feeling, one that’s been hovering close to the surface ever since Buck woke up from the dream. He’s not sure how much more he can take.
“She did triage me,” Buck promises. “I just got a little lightheaded for a second, but I’m okay.”
At Eddie’s doubtful look, he adds, “I’m good, Eddie. I swear.”
“Okay,” Eddie says reluctantly, sounding like it is anything but. Someone calls his name from the front of the building, and Eddie curses under his breath. To Buck, he says, “Stay here, Buck. Do not go anywhere.”
“I don’t think I’ve got anywhere to go,” Buck admits, but he nods and watches Eddie jog back over to where Ravi is waiting for him.
Chimney is the next to come over, clapping Buck on the shoulder a little more gently than usual. He’s been in a terrifyingly cheerful mood since he and Maddie decided to give it another try, and while Buck is seriously happy for them, he’s not used to Chimney smiling at him so earnestly. Historically, they’ve enjoyed more of a sarcastic bantering type of relationship.
“You good?” Chimney asks with a smile. “Eddie check you over?”
“Hen,” Buck replies. “Well, sort of. I told her and Eddie I’m fine…”
“Can you blame them for worrying?” Chimney asks, quirking an eyebrow. “I feel like it’s more surprising that you’re not injured, to be totally honest.”
“I’m not that bad,” Buck mutters.
Normally, Chimney would slap him on the shoulder and make a joke, and Buck would fire one back at him. They’d go their separate ways, both chuckling to themselves, and that would be it.
Now, Chimney shakes his head and says, “We worry because we care, man.”
At these words, Buck feels like an asshole.
“I know that,” he says immediately. “I’m sorry, Chim. I just—there are probably a bunch of other people who need medical attention.”
“Actually, it seems like most everyone is just very wet and chilly,” Chimney counters. “Most of them weren’t idiots and actually accepted the blankets we offered. You’re the only one stumbling, as far as I can see.”
“I’m not stumbling.”
“I saw a little stumble, Buckaroo. Is that why Eddie looks all panicked?”
Buck scowls at him. “Eddie does not look panicked.”
“Well, I guess that’s open to interpretation.” Chimney smiles up at him, and then his eyes narrow suddenly. He pulls off one of his gloves, and his hand comes up to press against Buck’s forehead, the way Maddie used to do when he was a kid. His skin is cool and soothing, even though Buck is shivering now. “I think you may have a fever, Buck. Why didn’t you say you were sick? And you’re not even wearing shoes.”
As if to belabor the point, Chimney throws his hands up and tuts disapprovingly.
“Um, because I’m not sick,” Buck says. “At least, I don’t think I am. Am I?”
Chimney gives him a wry look. “I may not be a certified medical professional, but—oh wait, I am. Yes, Buck, you have a fever.”
“Ha ha.” Buck puts his hand against his own forehead. Maybe it feels a little warm? He can’t tell. “You’re not gonna make me go to the hospital for a cold, are you?”
Chimney’s eyes seem to twinkle with amusement, but he only says, “No, we’ll figure something else out. I don’t think you’re getting back into your building anytime soon, so someone’s gonna have to take you home with them and give you some TLC. Make you some chicken soup, pet your hair a little…”
“If you say Eddie, Chim, I swear I will—”
“Hey, Cap!” Chimney calls, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice carries.
Bobby’s head pops up from where he’s conferring with the IC next to the 133 engine, and he gives them a little wave that more or less says, I’ll be there in a minute, Chim, hold your horses.
“While we’re waiting for that,” Chimney says, turning back to Buck, “I think we should sit you down somewhere.”
Buck lets himself be led over to the med units, although he refuses to be happy about it.
“I think I might take that blanket after all,” he admits as Chimney gets him seated at the back of the ambulance. Chimney gives him a knowing look but doesn’t comment; he only hops up into the truck, grabs an extra blanket out of one of the cabinets, and drops it on Buck’s head.
“I’m gonna go find Hen, make sure she’s good,” Chimney tells him. “If I see Eddie, I’ll send him your way.”
He walks off, chuckling to himself.
Buck grumbles a little as he unfolds the blanket, but secretly, a small, warm glow fills his chest. As much as he’s annoyed at the teasing, he does appreciate the concern. He doesn’t know if he’ll truly ever get used to the team fussing over him, but it does make him feel wanted, cherished…loved. Before he came to LA, he hadn’t been lucky enough to get that kind of care from anyone but Maddie. And even though they all go about it in different ways, the 118 has very rarely let Buck feel uncared for for very long.
Once he’s wrapped in the scratchy blanket, Buck starts to feel slightly more human. He’s still shivering, which isn’t a surprise if he really does have a fever, but he feels more secure just having another layer wrapped around himself, insulating him from the rest of the world. However, the longer he sits and waits for someone to tell him where to go, the heavier and achier his head feels. He’s listing toward one of the open ambulance doors by the time Bobby rounds the corner and spots him from a few feet away.
“Buck!” he calls, startling Buck awake.
“Bobby,” Buck croaks, surprised by how terrible his own voice sounds.
Hurrying over, Bobby sets his clipboard down on the ambulance bumper and puts his hands on Buck’s shoulders to prop him up. He ducks his head to look into Buck’s eyes, which feel hot and unbearably itchy.
“You look like you could use some tea and a nap,” Bobby comments. “Chimney says you have a fever. Why didn’t you tell Hen?”
“I didn’t know,” Buck says honestly, and he feels absurdly like he’s about to cry. “Bobby, I’m sorry, I—”
Bobby shushes him gently. “You’re okay, kid,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna get you into bed as soon as we can.”
Confused, Buck says, “I think my bed is flooded.”
“Not that bed,” Bobby replies with a laugh.
“A dry bed?”
“Yeah, a dry one.” Bobby ruffles Buck’s hair, and Buck hears him speaking to someone else in low tones. Then he raises his voice to say, “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t move, Buck.”
Someone else had told him not to move, but Buck can’t remember who it was now. He leans his head against the cool metal of the ambulance door and sighs. He must doze off for a period of time because the next thing he knows, someone is shaking his shoulder again. He opens his eyes blearily and finds Athena standing over him.
“Oh, Buck,” she says, clearly a touch exasperated. She’s dressed in a soft sweater and cozy sweatpants, not her field uniform, and she looks about as sleepy as it’s probably possible for Athena to look. She might be the best thing Buck has ever seen at two in the morning, especially when he’s feverish and soaked straight through.
“Hi Athena,” Buck mumbles. “Did Bobby call you?”
“He did,” Athena replies, putting her hand on his forehead the same way Chimney did. Her skin is cool to the touch, and her hand is firm. The gesture makes him feel safe. “How do you feel about coming home with me, Buck?”
Buck groans. “I feel pretty good about it.”
“I thought so,” Athena murmurs. “Alright, I’m going to find Bobby, and then we’ll go. Stay right here, Buck.”
“Why do people keep telling me to do that?” Buck grumbles, but Athena has already disappeared around the corner and doesn’t answer. He drifts in and out again until she comes back with someone else and tells him it’s time to go.
“I thought I told you not to move,” the other person says, and—oh, it’s Eddie.
Buck squints up at him, rubbing his nose with the corner of the blanket, and asks, “Eddie, what’re you doing here?”
“Making sure you get home okay,” Eddie replies evenly.
“Chimney made me move,” Buck informs him, feeling unfairly maligned. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Well, I’ll have to talk to him about that,” Eddie says with a laugh. He ducks down and tucks his shoulder under Buck’s right arm, hoisting him up off of the bumper. As they stagger in the direction of Athena’s car (Buck assumes), Eddie murmurs, “I thought you were taking the shift off to relax, man. Why are you always getting in trouble when I’m not around to save you?”
“How was I supposed to know the sprinkler system would break in the middle of the night?”
“You should move out of this place,” Eddie says under his breath.
“And live where?” Buck asks, amused.
He takes the opportunity their closeness affords him to inhale the woodsy aftershave that has always been hard-coded in his mind as being uniquely Eddie, as familiar to him as the smell of Maddie’s shampoo or the cloying scent of his mother’s perfume from his childhood. That smell has always felt like home to Buck, even when he and Eddie barely knew each other and were still feeling out their friendship. Maybe even back then, Buck’s olfactory system knew something the rest of him didn’t.
“Wherever you want to live,” Eddie tells him, grunting a little under Buck’s weight. “The world is your oyster and all that.”
“The world is my what?” Buck asks, head swimming with each step closer to Athena’s car. “You know, I’ve never really understood that saying…”
Eddie snorts. “That’s okay, bud. Home and sleep first.”
“My home’s back there,” Buck says fuzzily, pointing somewhere over his shoulder toward his sad, water-logged loft.
“Not the home I was talking about,” Eddie mutters. They reach Athena’s car and Eddie bundles him into the passenger seat without another word. He buckles the seatbelt across Buck’s lap and smooths his hair back gently, murmuring, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? We’ll talk about what we’re gonna do.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” Buck asks, but Eddie is patting him on the shoulder and shutting the passenger door. He hears Athena speaking to Eddie through the window, their voices muffled and unintelligible, and then Athena comes around and gets into the driver’s seat.
As she buckles her seatbelt, Buck finally admits, “Athena, I’m not gonna lie…I don’t feel great.”
“You’ve got such a way with words,” Athena tells him. “Close your eyes until we get home, Buck. We’ll be there soon.”
If Buck wasn’t already falling asleep, he would remind her that he doesn’t have a home anymore.
The rest of the night passes in a haze, snatches of moving colors pass through Buck’s hazy understanding but don’t register so much as they glance off of him. He vaguely remembers arriving at Bobby and Athena’s house, stumbling inside with some assistance from Athena, and clumsily shedding his wet clothes in the guest bathroom. Athena must give him some of Bobby’s clothes to change into, because the next time he blinks, he’s dressed in a soft hoodie and sweatpants. Finally, he rolls down into a comfortable, warm bed that smells like familiar laundry detergent and the apple-scented hand lotion that May recommended to Buck the last time he complained about his dry skin during the winter. He loves that damn hand lotion.
As soon as his fuzzy head hits the pillow, he feels Athena pulling the covers up and tucking them around him. And that’s the last thing he knows until he wakes up the next morning, feeling like death warmed over.
Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he’s never really understood that saying, either.
He opens his eyes to see the sun just beginning to peek through the large, open window. At first, he doesn’t know where he is. He lifts his head and looks blearily around the empty bedroom, devoid of May’s stuff since she moved out, and remembers that he came home with Athena last night. Belatedly, he remembers that this happened because he’s sick. And his loft is flooded. He vaguely remembers Eddie speaking to him, Chimney teasing him gently as he guided him over to the ambulance, and Hen offering him a blanket.
If the sun is just rising, he’s only been asleep for a couple of hours. Buck rolls over, puts the pillow over his head, and immediately goes back to asleep.
He dreams again.
This time, he dreams that Eddie is lying in bed with him. They can’t be in Athena and Bobby’s house because Buck went to sleep in a twin bed that barely fits him, let alone another grown man. He would take a moment to look around, except that Buck somehow senses this time that he’s dreaming. He doesn’t want to waste a second with Eddie, even if this Eddie is not real.
Eddie’s arm is draped over Buck’s waist as his lips brush tenderly over the sensitive skin of Buck’s throat. His breath feels hot, damp, and his legs tangle with Buck’s beneath the covers. Buck opens his eyes and realizes that his head feels clear about ten seconds before Eddie’s free hand comes up and turns his face. Eddie kisses him slowly, languidly, the movement sending a shiver down Buck’s spine. There’s barely any space between them. Buck never wants to move from this spot again.
“Mmm, you taste like apples,” Eddie murmurs after a while. He gathers Buck closer and kisses him again, humming as their mouths slide slickly together and his tongue dips inside.
The mention of apples itches something in the back of Buck’s mind, but it’s not readily accessible, and it doesn’t matter anyway because Eddie is kissing Buck so sweetly and holding him so close. Savoring that touch is much more important than whatever Buck is forgetting about apples.
“You’re not really here,” Buck tells him, in between deep, decadent kisses, “but I honestly don’t give a shit.”
“Good,” Eddie says softly. “This is all that matters right now.”
They kiss until Buck’s lips buzz pleasantly, and his body feels gratifyingly warm. He’s only vaguely turned on right now, but it’s not really about that. It’s more about getting as close to Eddie as he possibly can and stealing as many kisses as he can manage before reality sets in and he wakes up. Because he knows he is going to wake up eventually.
“I don’t wanna wake up,” he mumbles to Eddie at the end of the next kiss.
“Wake up from what?” Eddie asks, lifting a hand to rub the pad of his thumb behind Buck’s ear.
“This,” Buck whispers. “It’s not real.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, and the sound is familiar but not quite right. “It could be.”
It could be.
These are the words echoing through Buck’s mind the next time he opens his eyes to full sunlight through the bay window. For a few minutes, he lies in the twin bed and keeps his eyes closed, savoring the vague memory of being kissed by Eddie in the dream. His brain still feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, and his body aches, but he feels a little clearer-headed than he did last night.
He lies in bed for a bit, just blinking up at the ceiling. The mattress beneath him is beyond comfortable, and the sounds of voices murmuring far away lull him.
He dozes off and on for a time, until the bedroom door creaks open and Athena pokes her head in. She seems surprised to see him awake, but she smiles and comes into the room. She sits next to him on the edge of the bed and brushes her cool fingers over his forehead, soothing him.
“How are you feeling?” she asks softly. “You’re pretty sick, Buck.”
“I feel great,” Buck jokes, his voice scraping out of his throat like tires on gravel.
Athena winces at the sound. “You still have a fever. You think you can eat a little soup and take some ibuprofen?”
Buck closes his eyes, taking stock of his body. When he feels like he can speak again, he opens his eyes and says, “Ibuprofen? No soup.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Athena murmurs, stroking her hand over his forehead again. The gentle movement feels so soft, so good that it brings tears to Buck’s eyes, and he turns his head to hide them. Athena tuts and says, “You’re okay, Buckaroo,” and her gentle hand runs back over his hair, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that is so calming he begins to slip back into sleep before he knows what’s happening.
Athena seems to realize this, because she says, “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.” Then her comforting hand is gone, and Buck is alone again.
She returns moments later with a glass of water and a couple of pills. Helping Buck sit up and lean against the wall, she hands him the water and the pills and watches him with a critical eye as he takes them. Once the pills have been washed down, she takes the half-empty glass and sets it on the bedside table.
“You can go back to sleep,” she tells Buck, helping him to lie back down. She resumes petting his hair, scratching her fingertips gently along his scalp in a soothing pattern.
Between one breath and the next, Buck falls asleep.
He finds himself in Eddie’s living room this time, lying on the couch as Chris kicks his ass at Mortal Kombat. For some reason the controller is constructed backward, which is weird, and Chris is yelling that he’s going to murder Buck, which is less weird. The morning sunlight is warm on Buck’s face, and his legs are swathed in a thick, fuzzy blanket. In the next room over, Buck can hear the low murmur of Eddie’s voice, but he can’t make out the words he’s saying.
Buck looks down at Chris, sprawled against the side of the couch with a look of pure joy on his familiar face, and he feels warm and content. He blinks, and suddenly Eddie is there, sitting on the floor next to the couch and leaning his head back against Buck’s leg. As Buck notices him, Eddie turns his head and smiles up at him sweetly.
“Hey,” Buck says, somewhat surprised. “Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been right here the whole time,” Eddie replies, giving him a confused look. “You lost the game, by the way.”
Glancing toward the screen, Buck sees that Chris has, in fact, murdered him.
“Good job, Chris,” Buck says, because he tries to be supportive of whatever the kid does, even if it’s kicking Buck’s ass at video games. From the floor, Chris gives him a delighted smile and starts the game over again.
To Eddie, Buck says, “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”
Eddie’s eyebrows pop up. “Where do you think you’re supposed to be?”
“I was at Bobby and Athena’s house…”
“And now you’re here,” Eddie finishes for him. “Chris is going to beat you again.”
Buck looks toward the TV and sees that Chris’ character is pretty much dancing on his character’s corpse.
“Yeah, that was always gonna happen,” he says with a laugh.
“So was this,” Eddie replies.
When Buck looks down again, Eddie is gazing up at him with an unreadable look on his familiar, handsome face. A moment later, it feels like Chris isn’t there anymore, and when Buck turns his head to look, the living room is empty except for Eddie and himself. Buck shakes his head, confused again.
“You being here,” Eddie murmurs, as if that explains anything.
As Buck watches him, he rolls to his knees and shuffles closer to the couch.
From his prone position, Buck can see the clear hazel of Eddie’s eyes; he can see other details of his face, but his eyes are the clearest, the most striking. Buck’s breath catches in his throat as Eddie leans down and kisses him softly on the mouth, lingering for a moment as if he just wants to prolong the contact. Buck lets himself be kissed, savoring it.
“You should be here,” Eddie whispers as he pulls away. “With me and Chris.”
“I’m here,” Buck replies, baffled.
“Not yet,” Eddie murmurs, but he kisses Buck again.
Buck forgets to wonder how he ended up here, where Chris went, whether he won the last round of Mortal Kombat. He kisses Eddie back and feels surrounded and held, and it’s that soft, safe feeling that lingers when he opens his eyes moments later and finds himself back in Bobby and Athena’s house, in the room that used to belong to May.
The sun is in a different position this time. When he lifts his head, Buck knows it must be later in the day. His head still feels heavy, but the ache in his joints has dissipated, and he’s finally started to feel a little more human again.
He dozes for a while longer before the need to use the bathroom becomes too urgent to ignore. Throwing the covers back, he swings his feet down onto the floor and groans at suddenly being upright. The sound must be audible through the closed door, because moments later, Athena cracks the door open and sticks her head into the room.
Seeing Buck, she says, “You’re awake.”
“I am.” Buck shakes his head, trying to rattle the cobwebs loose. His head is pounding.
“Did you drink some water?” Athena asks. When he shakes his head again, she instructs, “Drink some more of that water. Then we can see about getting you a shower.”
Buck finally takes stock of the rest of his body and realizes he’s sweating, too warm in the hoodie and sweatpants he put on last night. A shower sounds amazing right now, but Buck isn’t sure his legs will hold him up long enough to do that. He considers his options.
“I don’t know if I’m up for a shower yet,” he whispers eventually. “Bathroom would be good, though.”
Athena smiles. “That’s fine, Buck.”
“Can you help me?” he asks, embarrassed by this display of weakness.
Athena makes a shushing noise and opens the door wider, hurrying into the room. Buck doesn’t know that he’s ever actually seen Athena hurry anywhere, at least not when she’s off duty. The fact that she’s hurrying to him does something strange to his heart, sending a pang through it that lingers as Athena helps him stand. They start to shuffle toward the bathroom, taking small steps. Buck tries not to lean against her too much, but it’s difficult.
Once in the bathroom, he does his business, leaning with one hand against the wall. It’s awkward, but it does the job. Soon, he’s washing his hands and shuffling back to the doorway. He finds Athena waiting for him in the hallway.
This time, she helps him out to the living room and deposits him on the couch. She fluffs a pillow to put under his head and covers him with the softest blanket he’s ever felt. By the time he’s horizontal again, he can feel sleep poking at the edges of his consciousness. He would rather stay awake for a little while, but he’s no match for the siren song of another nap. He falls asleep as Athena is pulling the blanket up to his chin, tucking it around him the way he imagines a loving mother would do.
This dream is nothing like the others. In this dream, Buck is drowning again.
Literally, this time.
This time, Buck opens his eyes and knows immediately that he is underwater. His first instinct is to inhale, but he fights it as hard as he can, kicking the hardest he’s ever kicked in his life and hoping he’s sending himself toward oxygen. His lungs scream for air, but he refuses to inhale until his head breaks the surface of the water and sweet, clean air fills his nose.
This must be a dream. The air in LA is never sweet or clean.
He coughs and splutters, dragging in huge, shallow breaths as he fights to stay afloat. He’s so focused on breathing that he doesn’t recognize where he is until his elbow bumps the side of the abandoned fire truck, and he looks up to see a handful of scared, shivering people staring down at him with horrified looks on their faces.
This is the moment he lost Chris, Buck realizes. This is the moment Chris toppled over the side of the truck, and Buck dove in after him. Fear lances through him, just as sharp and painful as it was on the actual day. He twists around and looks for Chris among the debris, the roiling water filled with bloated, waterlogged corpses.
“Chris,” he croaks, trying to tighten his nerveless fingers on the side of the engine. His wet grip slips against the metal, but he manages to get a firm hold after a minute.
He turns his head to look again, and this time, the landscape has changed. There are no dead bodies, no debris, no terrified people clinging to the sides of buildings to avoid being swept away. The water is calm, tranquil. Buck looks back to the top of the fire engine and finds it entirely empty. All of the people who had crouched there with him, waiting for rescue, have vanished.
Buck is alone.
He doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now. The jittery feeling under his skin, the stabbing pain that twists his insides, the all-encompassing loneliness that washes over him. He is terrified, and he’s alone. He thinks he hears someone calling his name, but the wind snatches the words away before they can register in his ears. No one is coming to save him.
No one is coming. No one is coming. No one is—
“Evan!” a voice says, and hands grip his shoulders, shaking him back to consciousness.
He flails and opens his eyes, confused by the sudden shaking. It takes a moment for his head to clear long enough to realize it’s Eddie shaking him, Eddie saying his name, Eddie pulling him out of the water…
“You’re okay,” Eddie murmurs, pulling him up. He wraps his arms around Buck and hugs him tightly, holding him close enough that Buck can almost feel Eddie’s heartbeat echoing in his own chest. He breathes in Eddie’s scent, and the panic begins to dissipate. In his mind, the water starts to recede.
Eddie is still speaking to him, but Buck doesn’t hear the words. He latches on to the timbre of Eddie’s voice and hides his face in his neck.
Several minutes pass before Buck feels awake and calm enough to lift his head. During that time, Eddie just strokes a hand up and down his back and speaks soothingly to him. The words could be vital, or they could be nonsense. Buck doesn’t know the difference until he finally shakes off the last tendrils of the dream and sits back.
Eddie looks worried, but he smiles at Buck. “Hey, there you are.”
“Here I am,” Buck croaks. His heart is still racing.
“You were dreaming,” Eddie says softly. “You’re okay now. It was just a nightmare.”
Buck shakes his head, tears coming to his eyes. He wipes at them furiously with his palms and whispers, “I was alone. No one was coming.”
“I’m here,” Eddie murmurs. One of his hands comes up to pet Buck’s hair as he continues to say these words like a mantra. “It was just a dream. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.”
Eventually, Buck is soothed enough that he can let go of Eddie. He finally remembers where he is, looks around Bobby and Athena’s living room, and glances back at Eddie, who is sitting on the edge of the couch with him.
Eddie, who is real.
“What are you doing here?” Buck asks. “Did Athena—?”
“I came over to talk to you,” Eddie says.
“You did?”
Eddie laughs, sounding confused. “Well, yeah. I don’t usually come over to Bobby’s house just to have coffee with Athena, awesome as she is.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” Athena says from the kitchen, startling Buck, who hadn’t even registered her presence.
“Athena,” he says hoarsely.
She moves swiftly into the living room and appears beside the couch to pet Buck’s forehead, fussing with his hair a little in the process. Eddie is still holding Buck with an arm banded tightly around his back, and it feels like the nicest, most solid hug he’s ever had. After a moment, Athena tells Buck that while he is still feverish, he’s definitely less feverish than before.
“Maybe you can try some of that soup now,” she offers.
Even though he isn’t hungry, Buck agrees. Athena has done so much for him; the least he can do is try to eat some of her soup.
When she disappears back into the kitchen, Buck sags against Eddie.
“It was horrible,” he mutters against Eddie’s shoulder. “It was the day of the tsunami, and everything was the same, except…I was alone. They all disappeared, like they were never there.”
Eddie is quiet for a moment. “Even Chris?”
“I couldn’t find him,” Buck whispers, feeling ill all of a sudden. “Oh God, I couldn’t find him…”
“Hey, hey,” Eddie says urgently, gripping the back of Buck’s neck in a move that should be confining but is more reassuring than anything else. “Chris is fine, Buck. He’s at Pepa’s house, and I’m going to pick him up after this. You saved him from the tsunami, and you saved a bunch of other people, too. This was just a dream.”
Buck can’t stop thinking about that empty fire truck. He can’t stop thinking about the water closing over his head. He lifts his face from Eddie’s shoulder because the position he’s in suddenly feels suffocating. Eddie lets him go without complaint, but he watches Buck with a concerned look on his face.
When he’s sure he can speak again without crying, Buck says wryly, “I’ve had better dreams.”
“Me too,” Eddie replies with a grin.
They settle into a comfortable silence as Eddie’s hand continues to stroke soothingly up and down Buck’s back. Buck lets himself lean into it, absorbing the contact. He can feel himself slipping into that dreamy state between wakefulness and sleep when he suddenly remembers the first dream. And the second. His face flushes, and he turns his head away, hoping Eddie won’t see it.
But Eddie sees it. He always does.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks quietly. “You can tell me.”
Buck is sick. He’s woozy, and he’s been floating in and out of sleep for hours. Reality feels like a dream, and his dreams feel far too real. That will be his excuse if anyone asks him later why he thought it was a good idea to open his mouth and say to Eddie, “I dreamed about kissing you.”
Eddie’s hand slows, then resumes rubbing Buck’s back.
“During the tsunami?” he asks.
This surprises a laugh out of Buck. It hurts coming out of his throat, but the idea is so absurd he can’t do anything else.
“No, before,” he says. “When the sprinkler system went off, I was dreaming about kissing you. I thought we were outside in the rain, and then I woke up and everything was flooded.”
Eddie is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Sounds like a pretty good dream.”
It was. It was one of the best dreams Buck’s had in a long time, and the next one was even better.
Buck figures the dreams are just an extension of the way he feels about Eddie in real life. He feels calm, centered when Eddie is around. Eddie’s house is a safe place, and Eddie and Chris are the two people who mean the most to him in the world, other than Maddie and Jee-Yun. He wants to spend as much time with Eddie as he’s allowed, and when Eddie is gone, Buck misses him fiercely. He doesn’t know the name for what he feels, but he has some idea.
Buck might be in love with Eddie. Even if he’s not, he thinks it’s something close to that.
Eddie’s mild response is encouraging, but that doesn’t mean he necessarily wants to kiss Buck. It definitely doesn’t mean he feels the same way.
“It was a fever dream,” Buck mutters to Eddie. “I don’t know why I said that. It didn’t really mean anything.”
They lapse back into silence for a bit. Eddie’s hand hasn’t stopped stroking Buck’s back, soft and gentle as always. Even with this shocking revelation between them, he’s still here to take care of Buck. Maybe that’s why Buck feels the way he does about Eddie—because Eddie’s love for him, whether it’s as a friend or something else, feels unconditional.
Finally, Eddie says, “It would be okay if it wasn’t, you know.”
“Wasn’t what?”
“Just a fever dream,” Eddie says softly. “It’d be okay if you let it mean something.”
Buck’s head spins again. “Oh.”
He thinks of lying in bed with Eddie in the dream, remembers the crystal clear hazel of his eyes and the way he held Buck and kissed him so tenderly.
In reality, Eddie has just left a busy 24-hour shift; he’s got to be exhausted, but he came straight to Bobby and Athena’s place to check on Buck. In reality, Eddie is Buck’s best friend, his confidante, the person who tells him when he’s fucked up and helps him see where he can fix things. He always tells Buck the truth, even when it hurts.
All of a sudden, Buck feels like that dream is within his reach. He gathers the energy he has left, sucks it up, and says, “Eddie, I want it to mean something. I mean, if you want it to mean something.”
Eddie’s smile spreads over his face, warm and slow like a sunrise.
“I want it to mean something,” he murmurs.
Buck’s heart flutters in his chest. “I guess it’s settled, then.”
“If this was a romantic comedy, I would kiss you now,” Eddie states. “But you’re sick…”
“No, no, obviously,” Buck says, waving a hand weakly. He starts to lean away, giving Eddie an out, but Eddie’s arm pulls him back immediately, warming Buck from the inside out. “You have to pick up Chris.”
Eddie chews on his lip. “I do,” he says regretfully. “But I did come here to talk to you into staying with us. Chris would love to have you around more.” He glances in the direction of the kitchen, where Athena is clanging pots and silverware a little too loudly to be casual, and murmurs, “I would love it if you did. Please stay with us, Buck.”
How can Buck possibly say no to that?
“Okay,” he says softly, and he’s rewarded with Eddie’s hand stroking over his hair. “Bobby can probably give me a ride over later.”
“Good,” Eddie says just as softly. He hesitates for a moment, then leans forward and brushes a barely-there kiss over Buck’s temple. The touch is so small that Buck can’t really feel it, but he knows it happens.
Buck smiles when Eddie pulls away. “I’ll see you later.”
“Later,” Eddie agrees.
He helps Buck lie down, runs his fingers over the side of Buck’s face, and then his touch is gone. Buck hears him speaking softly to Athena in the kitchen and then his boots sound on the stairs. The front door opens and closes.
Without Eddie, the room feels too big for Buck. Athena hums in the kitchen, and the sound calms him after a while.
As he lies on the couch, sleep reaches for him again. His eyes feel unbearably heavy, so he lets them drift closed. He thinks of calling out to Athena to apologize, because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stay awake long enough for her soup, but he falls down the rabbit hole before he can open his mouth to form the words.
He finds himself on the roof of the firehouse. It throws him for a loop at first, because this confrontation never happened at the firehouse—it was on the roof of the snake lady’s building, where Buck had taken the engine without Bobby’s permission. He figures the firehouse rooftop must be as good a roof as any to his subconscious. Or maybe his mind craves familiarity while he relives the day Bobby fired him, four months into his probationary period.
A lot of things happened that day (and his mind runs through them now: verbally sparring with Athena, speaking to Abby for the first time, finding out that Hen and Chimney did actually kind of like him, only after he was fired), but this is the memory that always sticks. It’s the one that hurts the most.
He remembers the feeling of standing on the roof with his pants hanging open, the woman he’d been kissing grabbing for her clothes behind him, and Bobby, incandescent with rage, yelling in his face.
The disappointment radiating off of Bobby was at least familiar to Buck at the time. He’d spent his whole life up to that point receiving this same look from his parents, from teachers at school, from managers at the myriad jobs he’d worked before coming to LA. Disappointment was nothing new to Buck, but it was still agonizing to hear those words from Bobby, and he scrambled for any excuse that would just make Bobby not be disappointed in him.
In this dream, Bobby is about a foot taller than Buck. Strictly untrue, but this is the way Buck has always felt around Bobby—smaller, though not always in a bad way. Around Bobby, he’s always felt like Evan: a scared kid who still needed someone to take care of him, to love him, to show him how to interact with the world, to show him how to be a good person, to teach him how to be worthy of other people’s love.
Evan wanted to be worthy of love most of all.
Since that day, Buck has learned a lot of things. First and foremost, he’s learned that he doesn’t have to do anything to be worthy of love, that he just is. He’s learned that unconditional love is the kind that never leaves, even if that person does. He’s learned what it means to be part of a family, one that supports each other through tough times, tells Buck when he’s being stupid, and helps him figure out the hard stuff, even when it would be easier not to.
He’s learned that Bobby and Athena will always be there for him, even when he’s making the worst decisions imaginable. He’s learned that he and Chimney can literally come to blows and still love each other like brothers. He’s learned that Hen and Karen are some of the best parents he’s ever met, that it is possible for a parent to love their child so much it fills every single part of them. He’s learned that Ravi is a good firefighter and a better man, that he reminds Buck a little bit of his younger self but with much less of a propensity for trouble. He’s learned that he and Lucy can have an awkward moment and move on from it, that they can learn and grow together as friends.
He’s learned that Maddie raised him with all the love in her heart, but Buck made himself into the man he is today.
He’s learned that Eddie and Chris will never let him be alone again.
In this dream, Bobby towers over Buck, radiating disapproval. His face is set in an angry mask, and Buck knows exactly what he’s about to say. They’re alone on the roof in this dream. It’s just the two of them.
Buck’s heart aches for his younger self: the skinny, half-naked Buck who hasn’t learned all of the things present-day Buck has learned, who takes Bobby’s anger as proof that no one will ever love him because of his shortcomings. In this dream, Buck is and is not the younger Buck. The younger Buck hasn’t met Eddie yet, and he hasn’t learned the joy of spending time with a kid like Chris, but his fears and insecurities will always live deep within the present-day Buck who is asleep on Bobby and Athena’s couch.
In this dream, Bobby pauses to take a breath, and Buck says, “Thank you.”
Dream Bobby startles. “What did you say?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Buck suspiciously.
“Thank you,” Buck repeats, “for everything you’ve done for me.”
Dream Bobby’s eyebrows furrow in a look of confusion.
His face is so familiar to Buck now. Back then, Bobby was a virtual stranger, a good boss but not a particularly warm or friendly one. Now, Buck sees the strain around his eyes and the worry lines around his mouth. Now, he sees the pain Bobby carries on his shoulders, and he knows the reason for it.
Buck has held Bobby while he cried and dug him out of a building’s worth of rubble, praying all the while that they would find him alive. He’s teased Bobby about his figure skating career and yelled at him for perceived betrayals, and he’s stood in Bobby’s office and poured his heart out to the only real father he’s ever known.
Tears prick at Buck’s eyes, and even though he knows he isn’t really crying, the tears still feel real. The pain in his chest still hurts the same when he thinks about how lucky he is to have found Bobby out of all the other people in the world. How lucky he is that Bobby looked past his fuckboy exterior and gave him a second chance.
“I love you,” Buck says to Dream Bobby, feeling a very real sob well up in his throat. “I just wanted you to know.”
And Dream Bobby looks very confused, but it doesn’t matter anymore. The dream is slowly fading away because Buck must be waking up. He takes one last look at Dream Bobby, wanting to commit this moment to memory, even if it’s just a dream memory. This painful moment was the beginning of everything. It may have been the beginning of Buck himself.
Bobby needs to hear these things someday soon. He needs to know how completely he’s changed Buck’s life.
More than that, Bobby deserves to be told every day how much he is loved. He deserves to know how much Buck loves him, and how much May and Harry love him. He deserves to know that he is good, that he is worthy, and that one terrible mistake will never define who he is to them, in this life.
Bobby deserves to know what a good father he is.
Now the dream is disintegrating, and the world beyond the firehouse roof disappears into darkness. As the sky folds around them and Dream Bobby disappears, Buck hears Athena calling his name.
He wakes up with a smile on his face.