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Eddie’s looking through the fridge for a drink when the single lightbulb flickers, sending the shelf of milk and juices into darkness that’s lit up a moment later by a startlingly bright flash of lightning. It takes a few seconds for the lights to return, accompanied by a rumble of thunder so strong Eddie swears it makes the floor shake beneath his feet.
He glances at the clock again - their shift is supposed to start in under five minutes and there’s no sign of Buck. Not that this would be the first time Buck showed up just before the secondhand ticked over the giant 12, or even the first time he’d be late if he doesn’t make that, but he has a bad feeling about this particular absence. Nights like these are always their busiest nights, full of car accidents on rain-slick roads and fires caused by lightning strikes or people leaving candles unsupervised during power outages. This isn’t the sort of shift that Buck would just bail on and leave them short during, not unless something was seriously wrong.
Bobby walks up the stairs, cell phone to his ear and eyebrows drawn together as he speaks. “Of course. We’ll see you next shift,” Bobby says, frowning as he hangs up the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.
“Buck just called out,” Bobby says.
“Kind of last minute,” Eddie observes. “Did he say why?”
“He said he wasn’t feeling well all of a sudden,” Bobby says, his voice carrying the same lack of conviction that Eddie feels.
Eddie bites down on his lower lip, glancing from the clock on the wall to the front door, then back over at Bobby. “Listen, Cap, I know-” “Go,” Bobby says before Eddie can even finish. They share the same look of growing concern on their faces. “He sounded rough on the phone. We’ll be alright here.”
Eddie almost asks if he’s sure but his desire to check on Buck overrides his desire to make sure Bobby’s really thinking through being down two firefighters tonight.
“Thanks,” Eddie says instead, grabbing his keys and jacket and heading out into the storm.
---
“Buck?” Eddie rings the doorbell for a third time, knocking several more for good measure.
Buck’s truck was outside when he pulled up so he knows Buck’s home. Maybe he just can’t hear it over the wind sending sheets of rain against the side of the building on top of all the thunder. That doesn’t answer why Eddie’s two attempts to call Buck’s cell have both gone to voicemail, though.
Screw it. Eddie pulls his keys out of his pocket, singling out the spare Buck made him for emergencies and opening the front door with it, shutting it quickly behind him.
“Buck?” Eddie calls out, looking around. The curtains are drawn shut on every window. All of the lights are on and the TV is blasting at full volume even though Buck is nowhere in sight.
“Buck?!” Eddie’s voice has an edge of urgency now because this isn’t normal.
He walks over to the television and turns it off, listening for any other sign that Buck is in here somewhere now that he can hear himself think again.
That sign comes with a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder - it’s a small yell, more like a yip of surprise than an actual cry, that sounds from upstairs. Eddie follows the sound without hesitation.
“Buck?” he tries again, moving faster up the stairs when he thinks he hears movement from Buck’s bedroom. It isn’t a large space to search - there’s no sign of him anywhere in the open bedroom layout. The bathroom door is closed, though, and Eddie swears he hears a curse from inside the room as he approaches, making no attempt to hide his footsteps as he approaches the door.
Eddie pauses outside of the closed door, wondering if he should bother knocking just to be ignored again.
“Buck?” he calls out one last time, surprised to find his voice waver ever so slightly. “Open up!”
“It’s… it’s open.”
Eddie barely hears Buck’s voice through the door, quiet and shaking and so full of fear it causes a physical ache in Eddie’s chest to hear it. Eddie opens the door, still surprised to find it unlocked despite the fact that Buck just told him it would be. It feels too easy, after all the ignored attempts to reach Buck previously.
Except, of course, Buck isn’t in his bathroom to hide from anything he can lock out with the turn of a key. Eddie sees Buck sitting in the tub, back pressed against the furthest wall, knees pulled up to his chest. With the door open, the flash of lightning that briefly illuminates through the bedroom curtains causes Buck’s entire body to convulse, folding in on himself even more. Every single visible muscle pulls taut and his eyes squeeze shut, his entire body trembling.
“Oh, Buck,” Eddie says, shutting the door behind him before taking two large steps forward to clear the bathroom before climbing into the tub with Buck, with no hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says. It’s obvious he’s trying to keep the previous quiver from his words but they’re barely even.
“Don’t be. It’s alright. You’re alright,” Eddie says, reaching his hands out to wrap around Buck’s shoulders. He moves slowly so that Buck has plenty of time to stop him or shift away. Instead, Buck leans into the touch, moving so that his body half-leans against Eddie’s side.
“I’m not,” Buck says, and that confession is enough to turn his barely-steady words into a full sob, one that tears through his entire body. “Does this look alright to you?” Buck says with a bark of a laugh that contains no actual amusement.
“You’re going to be alright. What can I do?” Eddie asks.
“You’re doing it,” Buck admits. “You’re here.”
Eddie’s glad that Buck can’t see his face from where he has his head resting on Eddie’s chest, face angled down. If he could, he’d see a lot more than Eddie would’ve planned on showing because he can’t contain the way that statement makes his own heartbeat race.
“And I’m not going anywhere. Though maybe we could move this somewhere a bit more comfortable?” Eddie suggests.
“I wanted to bring a couch cushion in but, well, no couch,” Buck says. When Eddie levels him with a confused look and a raised eyebrow Buck explains. “In a major storm, the safest place is in your bathtub with a couch cushion over you so you’re covered on all sides. Tubs have the strongest attachments to the foundation.”
So that’s it, then. He hasn’t come right out and asked, and Buck hasn’t exactly offered the information, but it’s obvious enough what’s going on here. If his suspicions at the station weren’t enough this pretty much proves it. Eddie’s seen - and experienced - enough PTSD to know what this is.
“Alright,” Eddie says, carefully maneuvering into a standing position. Buck’s eyes widen, and for a moment Eddie thinks he’s going to reach out and stop him. “I’ll be right back,” Eddie promises just so Buck knows he isn’t leaving.
Pausing by the door, Eddie waits until he sees the flash of lightning from the slight crack between the floor and the door before opening the door and shutting it quickly behind him, keeping Buck as sheltered from the storm as possible. Then he sets to work grabbing pillows, a blanket, a water bottle he fills half with water and half with ice cubes, and Buck’s laptop. He waits outside the door for the next flash of lightning before hastily opening and closing the bathroom door again.
“What’s all that?” Buck asks. He seems a little better already just from having the distraction of Eddie’s presence.
“Supplies,” Eddie says. “Put these down.”
Buck shifts enough to get one pillow underneath him and place the other beside it. Eddie sets the laptop up on the closed toilet seat, hitting play on a ridiculous comedy that Buck’s been trying to get him to watch for ages called ‘Spaceballs’. He sets the water on the ledge of the tub beside Buck before sliding into the space at the back of the bathtub, pulling the blanket in after him.
He wants to ask Buck a million and one questions, but he doesn’t want to force him to talk about something he’s clearly not ready to share or even face himself yet. So he’s going to do the next best thing - he’s going to be here with him. If Buck wants to talk, he’ll be here. And if he doesn’t, Eddie’s still going to be here.
He only hesitates when he realizes that there aren’t a lot of ways for two grown men to be comfortable sitting in a tub small enough to fit the layout of this tiny loft bathroom.
There’s a particularly loud rumble of thunder and Buck flinches backward. Eddie reaches out instinctively to steady him and uses the opportunity to pull Buck closer to him so that Eddie’s leaning against the back of the tub and Buck is sitting in front of him, facing forward, pulled back against Eddie’s stomach.
“Is this alright?” Eddie asks.
Buck doesn’t say anything but Eddie feels his head nod up and down against him, taking the blanket and draping it over his legs, keeping one corner of it balled up tight in his hands.
They can talk later, and Eddie can help Buck pick up the pieces in the aftermath. It isn’t ideal, but it’s enough to get Buck through this storm.
Eddie pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Bobby.
E: Hey Cap, I don’t think I’ll be back tonight. Is that alright?
Bobby replies within seconds.
B: Do whatever you need to do. Just keep my kid safe, alright?
Eddie gives the smallest of smiles at his phone screen.
E: Will do.
It’s a promise that’s easy to keep.