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“You had to say it.”
“Can we not do this right-” Eddie coughs, then groans deep in his chest. “Right now?”
Buck tries not to think about what’s causing Eddie to make that wounded animal sound. If for no other reason than because he has a point to make. “I'm just saying, after we get out of here you are no longer allowed to mock the universe.”
“I wasn't mocking-”
“Do I need to remind you what you said last night?”
“No, I remember.”
Damn right he remembers. “You said, and I quote-”
“Here we go,” Eddie sighs.
“And I quote: What’s the rush, Buck? What’s the rush!? Seriously Eddie?”
“I was trying to be romantic.”
Oh, it was the most goddamn romantic thing Buck had ever experienced. Because it wasn’t enough to walk into Eddie’s kitchen last night to candles and soft music. It wasn’t enough for Buck’s entire concept of romance to be irrevocably altered when Eddie tugged him into his arms to shuffle softly around the cool tile floor where they’ve spent literal years dancing around each other, finally a synchronized unit. His heart still hasn’t recovered from hearing Eddie shyly ask if Buck might, possibly, maybe want to be best friends and also boyfriends and partners in every sense of the word.
Like all of that wasn’t enough, then- then he had to go and turn away the moment Buck leaned in to kiss him for the first time so his lips only grazed the stubble of Eddie’s cheek. But instead of the sting of rejection, Eddie gave him the balm of explaining that this, with Buck, was going to be his last first kiss. He was sure of it. And he wanted to savor the anticipation, just for a little longer. Eddie wanted to woo him, to take him on a proper first date with a proper goodnight kiss. Start the next chapter of their journey together the way Buck deserved, like the beginning of their own personal fairy tale.
He planned to be with Buck forever. To kiss him every day of the rest of their lives. So really, Eddie had murmured against the shell of his ear, what’s the rush?
“You succeeded. With the romance, you succeeded,” Buck concedes into Eddie’s shoulder. “But the universe took it as a challenge.”
Another cough and a groan make Buck a little desperate to get the dust and grit out of his eyes so he can see what, exactly, is pinning Eddie against Buck’s chest and the two of them against the wall of the subway car. He manages to get the thick work glove off his left hand so he can wipe at his face while the right stays good and stuck between Eddie’s body and his thigh.
“The roof didn’t collapse because of what I said,” Eddie adds, a little petulantly.
They’ll have to agree to disagree on that one. Because from where Buck’s standing- leaning- trapped- this has cosmic retribution written all over it. The 118 were called to the subway station for a passenger complaining of chest pains. Buck can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever even set foot in LA’s little-known underground railway system. And before the doors to the compartment with their would-be patient could even open, the ceiling gave an almighty rumble and rained down right on top of them.
“Still think you should’ve let me kiss you when we had the chance,” he grumbles.
Buck can be petulant too, thank you very much.
“Did you say kiss? Did he say kiss?!” Chimney’s voice projects from the radio on his shoulder that is not, in fact, broken.
“I definitely heard the word kiss,” Hen confirms.
This time Eddie’s groan probably stems from an entirely different type of pain than the physical. They agreed not to tell anyone, not just yet. Christopher is at summer camp for three more days and they want him to be the first to know. So much for that.
Bobby’s voice joins the rest. “Guess that works for roll call. Ortiz? Metson? You copy?”
He gets two responses which means somehow, miraculously, the whole team is walking and talking after the collapse. Or- they’re all talking, anyway.
“Anyone injured?” Chimney asks. “Hen and I dove under an archway, we’re alright but I dunno how easily we can dig out from here.”
Bobby isn’t too far from Buck and Eddie, he can hear the muffled sound of Cap’s voice just offset from what’s coming through the radio. Ortiz and Metson had been closer to the entrance doing crowd control and made it far enough up the stairs that they were above the rubble.
“Lucky bastards,” Eddie grumbles.
“Now tell us more about the kissing,” Hen teases.
It’s frustrating to be sandwiched between Eddie and the metal of the train without adding the team’s teasing to the situation. His leg is already protesting being weirdly braced at an angle and he can only really make out a sliver of Eddie’s crumpled ear and a whole lot of chalky hair in the dim lighting. Their legs are tangled in a way that would be very distracting and exciting in normal circumstances. Buck’s a little put out that this has to be how he learns what the thick muscle of Eddie’s thigh feels like between his own. Add to that the hot little puffs of breath that keep bursting over the exposed skin of his neck and Buck has to tap into new depths of self control to keep his thoughts on the problem at hand.
It seems like most of what’s piled on top of them was caught on the roof of the train car, so at least neither of them are taking the full weight of the concrete slabs and rusted metal grating that would’ve reduced them to firefighter-shaped pancakes otherwise. Small blessings, or whatever.
“Maybe we can shift some of this loose stuff over,” he suggests.
His left side and arm are relatively mobile and even with Eddie squishing his right side they could probably find enough space to rotate and take some of the pressure off his legs. Buck can’t imagine Eddie would complain- his nose is practically flattened against Buck’s shoulder because of a massive slab of concrete that’s sloping down like an immovable tent wall along his back.
“That looks relatively stable, right?” He asks, knowing full well Eddie can’t see much of anything at the moment.
“Buck,” Eddie grunts.
“How about on three we try crouching down at the same time- the space is wider at our feet. Maybe we can maneuver around some of this debris and get over to the train doors, they should only be a few feet away at most.”
“Buck,” he repeats a little louder.
“Otherwise we could be waiting a while and I’m not saying you’re heavy, but a little wiggle room would make breathing a lot more fun.”
“Buck,” Eddie gasps, voice sharp with pain the moment Buck tries to snake his right arm around his partner’s hip to see what they’d have to move on Eddie’s other side.
Warm, wet stickiness slides under his glove and over his palm, a sensation Buck registers instantly. Even blind, he knows what Eddie’s blood feels like as it makes a bid for freedom out of his body.
“You’re- you’re hurt. Eds, why didn’t you-”
“Eddie’s hurt?” Hen demands through the radio.
“To be fair,” Eddie says, clearly putting in effort to keep his voice level, “I think the rebar was probably aiming for Chimney.”
The team are asking more questions and Eddie does his best to answer them. Buck hears it, there’s nothing wrong with his ears, but he isn’t taking in the words, strictly speaking. Now that he knows there’s an injury to worry about he moves his hand more carefully. From his hip up, mapping slowly along Eddie’s side until his wrist hits the rebar in question. He follows that with his fingertips until he finds the place where it emerges from Eddie’s body. Lower torso, left quadrant. A couple inches over and it would’ve missed him entirely.
It didn’t. It didn’t miss.
There’s a noise climbing ridge by ridge up his throat, growing and filling his mouth. He doesn’t want to let it out. Right now Eddie is joking and mostly hiding how much pain he must be in. It could be that he’s in shock. Or he’s slipped back into crisis mode, trying to be a good soldier. If he can swallow whatever sounds are vying for escape out of his mouth, Buck can too.
He squeezes his eyes shut and can suddenly, vividly recollect the moment Chimney came into view in the front seat of his absolutely destroyed car, confused about why he couldn’t move his head. Not feeling any pain, his body not yet screaming at him that something was horribly, horribly wrong. A horn of metal protruding from between his eyebrows.
When his left hand scrabbles and reaches for Eddie’s wrist to get his pulse, the fingers he uses to catch and tangle with Buck’s are trembling. He’s feeling this, at least some of it. He just also happens to be the strongest man Buck knows and he’s holding that pain at bay through sheer force of will.
“Can,” Buck clears his throat when the word comes out closer to a sob than anything else. Breathes. Tries again. “Can you reach down to get my other glove off?”
He needs his sense of touch. He can’t tell how much Eddie’s bleeding through the layer of leather and his palm has a pool of blood that’s hardly enough to worry about even as it makes Buck feel like he’s drowning. He hates to ask, hates how carefully Eddie controls his breathing to steady the pain as soon as he starts shifting. Buck tries to do most of the work for him, reaching over as much as his octopus arms and the fucking rebar skewer will allow. He could probably slide his arm up in between them and out to the side, where he’d have far better range of motion, but the idea of pulling at Eddie’s uniform or, god forbid, catching and tugging anywhere along his torso, makes Buck’s skin crawl. Maybe, maybe once he can feel what he’s doing or Bobby can get over here and visualize Eddie’s injury, but for now he’ll have to make do with one hand free and the other clutching at Eddie’s hip.
“No rush,” he soothes when Eddie’s hand finds his. There’s no sense in rushing to pull the glove off if it’ll jarr his injury. Buck likes his work gloves tight, knows it’ll take some tugging to free his hand when neither of them can actually see what they’re doing. He also knows he’ll never wear tight gloves again after this.
He feels Eddie tense his body before pinching the fingertips of the material and wrenching quickly. That’s his Eddie, trying to pull the bandaid off in one fell swoop. He succeeds in getting the glove about halfway off and a few smaller pulls frees Buck’s hand entirely.
It also drags the smallest gasp of pain from Eddie’s lips. Buck uses his free hand to cradle the back of Eddie’s head, trying to lend him what comfort and strength he can from their current position. He’d like to think it helps them both; Eddie tucks his face between his neck and shoulder like he’ll find safety there and Buck-
Buck finds a reason to fight the universe. Again.
Bobby’s voice comes through the radio.“Buck, Eddie- I’ve accessed the train car and evacuated everyone into the next compartment for now. Ortiz is making his way in from the other end of the train with some tools to help get you out. It looks like I can try and force open the door closest to you and start shifting some of this debris into the train. Make a clear path. How’re you both doing?”
“Hasn’t been my favorite day ever, Cap,” Eddie mumbles into the skin of his neck. Buck drops a kiss to the dust covered hair above his ear and hopes Eddie’s no kissing before the first date rule is officially suspended due to extenuating circumstances.
“Faster would be better,” Buck adds more clearly into the radio. Now that Eddie’s had a minute to catch his breath, Buck tries to feel around the rebar in his side without jostling him. “I’m feeling moderate bleeding from both sides.”
“Where’s the perforation, exactly?” Chimney asks, all business now that he knows there’s something on the line.
“Feels like it's two, maybe three inches off the midline in the front. A little less on the back- it’s angled away from me.”
“Cap,” Hen says, “You’ll want to pack that as soon as you have the supplies. Only organ damage we’ll have to worry about is the large intestine, so nothing emergent.”
“See?” Eddie huffs like Buck is somehow blowing things out of proportion. “Nothing emergent.”
“Hypovolemia is emergent,” Chimney reminds them testily.
“Yeah, I’ve felt that before,” Eddie replies like it’s a funny story, that one time a sniper round punched a hole through him and he nearly bled out in the street. Buck’s breath catches in his throat. “I’ve got plenty of bleeding to do before we have to worry about that.”
“Eddie-”
“Don’t apologize,” he says fiercely, anticipating and dismissing Buck’s guilt that he wouldn’t be hurt if Eddie hadn’t pushed him out of the way. If only Buck’s mind would let it go so easily. It’s not the time to get into it, so he settles for sliding his free hand up to cup the back of Eddie’s neck lightly.
They wait in silence. It’s amazing how far off the sounds of other rescues, other victims, seem to be in their tiny, shared tomb. Buck wants to distract Eddie and himself, maybe with some kind of motivational speech to keep him fighting. That’s what Bobby would do. Or Hen. Buck can’t joke like Chim does when the pressure’s on. Buck spirals. He gets emotional and impulsive, throwing himself at the problem in an attempt to solve it.
In here he can’t throw himself much of anywhere. He’s barely keeping track of anything beyond Eddie’s pulse under his hand, still steady and sure even as blood trickles out of his veins. It’s soaked through Buck’s uniform now, hot and tacky on the leg that’s taking on more and more of Eddie’s sagging weight.
But his pulse hasn’t faltered. Buck will know the moment it does.
In the background, Bobby has been joined by Ortiz, the two of them slinging words back and forth that he would probably understand if he took the time to listen. But Eddie’s breath against his skin is blending with the beat of his pulse and it forms a haze of biological music Buck’s never fully appreciated before. It’s soothing, all rhythm and repetition he can feel in his bones. It’s something he imagines he’d learn to fall asleep to, if he and Eddie ever make it into a real bed together.
A rush of semi-fresh air hits the wetness of his uniform pants and sends a chill up Buck’s spine; Bobby found a way through. Now they just have to find a way to get Eddie out.
“How’s it going over here?” Bobby asks.
Buck realizes for the first time that the voice Bobby uses during an emergency, his Captain Dad voice as they all like to call it, has conditioned Buck like Pavlov’s dog. It instantly makes Buck believe things will be alright; someone is in charge who knows exactly what to do. His hands are still trembling where they cling to Eddie’s body but that’s alright, he isn’t the one who needs to have it all together right now. That’s Bobby’s job and no one does it better.
Eddie quietly endures a brief exam, only hissing once into the fabric of Buck’s shirt. Buck wants to tell him he doesn’t have to hold back. If he needs to, he can take Buck’s shoulder into his mouth and bite as hard as he wants. It might even make Buck feel better, to share a little bit of his pain. To carry the mark of it for a while.
“So,” Bobby says conversationally, “what’s all this about a first date?”
Buck groans in exaggerated annoyance but Eddie- Eddie just shrugs his shoulders and eases his head back so he can look over at their captain to say, “Managed to find my soulmate on the second try, Cap.”
Hen coos through the radio and Bobby looks a bit misty-eyed himself, proud through and through of the man Eddie’s become. Buck can identify the feeling because it fills him as well.
“It’s an exclusive club,” Bobby jokes. “Comes with some paperwork, though. I expect you to be in my office before your next shift, you hear me? You too, Kid,” he adds, glancing past Eddie to look at Buck warmly.
“Sure thing Pops.”
“Yes sir,” Eddie adds, turning back to rest once more against Buck.
Now that Eddie isn’t looking, Bobby lets a little more worry show through his eyes. They both know Eddie won’t defy a direct order, not if he’s alive to see it through. But this is a tangled mess of trouble and Buck can tell Bobby’s still working out how, exactly, he’s going to get his guys out of it in one piece.
Ortiz steps in to help pack gauze around both sides of Eddie’s body, stopping the slow drain of blood down Buck’s leg. He remembers how hard it was to wash Eddie’s blood off his face and hands last time, how it kept showing up in little folds of skin and flaking off the hairs of his forearms until he finally stood under a steaming hot shower and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed himself raw. He can only imagine how much worse this’ll be when he manages to get out of here. His uniform is already hardening and sticking to the hairs of his leg.
“Buck,” Bobby cuts into his musings, “If you can crouch down far enough I could get you out underneath the rebar.”
Get him out? Get him- absolutely not. Doesn’t Bobby know who he’s talking to? Buck’s fine. Eddie’s the one who needs a plan and a minor miracle. “Thanks Cap, but I’m staying right here.”
“Buck-”
“No. I move and Eddie doesn’t have someone to lean on. He could slide on the rebar- he, he could pass out from blood loss. I’ll leave when he does.”
What’s Bobby thinking? Where’d his calm, cool, and collected Captain voice go? He sounds worried- he sounds wrecked. They’re not anywhere close to that level of desperation yet. How is Buck supposed to keep his shit together when Bobby sounds like that?
“Buck,” Eddie rasps, tipping his head back a little unsteadily so Buck can see the plea in his eyes. There’s no reason for that look, either. No reason at all for Bobby’s stupid backwards plan or Eddie’s sweet supplication. He shakes his head- once, twice, third time’s the charm.
“Baby, please,” Eddie begs anyway. “Get yourself safe and let me follow after you. We don’t know how stable everything around us is, it could still shift. I need to know you’re gonna be okay.”
It’s a good tactic, definitely smart to appeal to his emotional side. But you don’t bullshit a bullshitter and Buck could write a book on the hundred and one ways to sacrifice yourself for the people around you. Eddie’s a rookie trying to play in the big leagues on this one.
“I get out when you get out. Cap? Work on a new plan.”
Eddie slips his eyes closed, probably praying for patience, and leans a little closer once more. It’s grotesquely intimate, with his nose barely grazing the underside of Buck’s jaw and his blood drying on Buck’s fingers. He rests his lips on the fine layer of dust that covers Eddie’s forehead for a breath or two and prays that they’ll have years to kiss after this. He might need years to forget the chalky taste in his mouth.
“Think you can get out of that first date so easily?” He whispers into Eddie’s hair. “Not a chance.”
“Had to try,” Eddie sighs.
“Cap- the 133 just pulled up and can take over extracting bystanders,” Chimney radios. “We’re going to follow Metson to get to you.”
“Copy that. You move smart and you move safe, understood?”
“Understood. Tell Eddie to hang on,” Hen demands. Buck appreciates that she doesn’t bother telling him to hang on. She knows him inside and out, his sister-mentor-friend, and is smart enough to realize nothing is going to prevent him from hanging onto Eddie.
“Aye-aye,” Eddie replies quietly.
Buck knows the rebar, in addition to slowly killing Eddie, is doing most of the work to hold him up as he gets weaker. Every time his legs slip an inch, Buck feels a wave of nausea roll through his body that must echo the punch of pain Eddie endures.
“Eds, tell me if I hurt you, alright?”
That gets his eyes back open and he searches Buck’s face for a moment before he nods. Buck tries his hardest to move smoothly but he’s a big, bulky guy and Eddie’s no string bean either. Every time their bodies jostle he pauses, waiting for Eddie to push out a few shaky breaths and nod for Buck to continue. Bobby seems to know what he’s aiming for and reaches in to stabilize Eddie’s shoulders. It’s the longest minute of his life, probably one that Eddie would rather not relive any time soon. But he manages to align himself almost perfectly with Eddie’s chest. He can wrap his arms more fully around him and take more of Eddie’s weight this way. It also gives Buck space to kick his legs out wider, slide a little lower against the train car so Eddie can lean more fully onto his upper body.
He’s imagined Eddie between his legs before. This scenario puts a bit of a damper on the fantasy, though.
Eddie drops his head again to rest against his shoulder as if that’s the only part of his body too heavy to hold. Buck hates not being able to see his face from this angle, hates that he might be in too much pain to push down so he’s hiding it from Buck like this instead. When Eddie turns into the side of his neck and surprises him by pressing kiss after kiss to his skin, Buck wonders what each one means. A hello and a how are you and an I love you and a goodbye? It feels like all of them rolled into one and Buck wants to cry but his lungs are empty and his throat is blocked, so he closes his eyes and pretends this is some far off morning, in bed with the love of his life, waking up to a brand new day together.
“Alright Buck, Eddie,” Bobby bursts through his hazy bubble of make believe. “There’s about a foot of rebar on our side of the train car. We’ll need to start by cutting there. Dispatch is sending me the schematics for the train itself- once we have that we’ll really get to work.”
“Copy, Cap.”
That makes sense. That’s a good plan. Or the start of one, anyway. Bobby doesn’t have to say anything more for Buck to know where this is going. They’ll take the wall off the train itself, bring Eddie and Buck in to them and then move them out.
Nobody says that for the plan to work, they also have to find a way to cut the rebar on Eddie’s other side. They all know he’s only a few inches from the concrete slab at his back. They also all know it isn’t nearly enough space for a saw. The only way to make the space they need will be to slide Eddie forward.
Buck’s seen his fair share of impalings, strange as that is to say. He knows how critical it is to keep the patient as still as possible. The risk of bleeding out climbs exponentially once they start moving someone around. How quickly can they get Eddie cut free and out of the train, out of the subway, and into a trauma surgeon’s hands? Realistically, too long. Far, far too long. Bobby knows it too. Hell, even Eddie knows it, he’s just too stubborn to acknowledge it.
The flow of blood from his wounds has slowed now that they’ve found a position that keeps them still. And Buck knows they find themselves in these crazy, one of them might never make it scenarios about twice a year, on average. He should know how to navigate the panic and clawing desperation in his chest screaming at him to fix this, to do something when he knows damn well there’s nothing he can do that he isn’t already doing.
But- but they have reservations. Eddie wouldn’t tell him where, just told him to wear that blue shirt that brings out his eyes and be ready by six. This was supposed to be their moment, the start of something new. Their Once Upon a Time. And he feels like he’s losing that with every minute that ticks by. He doesn’t want to lose any more time.
“Eddie.” He keeps his voice low, right at the shell of Eddie’s ear, so he can hear Buck over the clanging and debating that the rest of the team are doing nearby.
“Shhh,” Eddie soothes on an exhale.
“No, Eds-”
His hand slides up Buck’s neck to cup his cheek without looking up. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re not quite there just yet. You don’t have to worry.”
“Bullshit I don't have to worry. You can’t- don’t ask me to pretend. We don’t hide from each other, Eddie, we don’t do that anymore,” he whispers fiercely. They’ve been through too much- so much he would have to list it like a resume, chronologically from ambulance bomb and earthquake to sniper and struck by lightning, just to keep it all organized.
Eddie spends more energy than he should to pick his head up but Buck craves the comfort he can only find in his eyes, so he doesn’t try and stop him.
“Not hiding, Buck. I can hold out a while longer. I promise.”
Buck taps their foreheads together, sighing in relief even as he holds his breath for the other shoe Eddie is about to drop.
“Now I need a promise from you, Buck.” There it is, shoe number two. “If things go south- if I tell you to go, you go. Even if it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Even if you’ll hate me for it. I need to know you won’t stay stuck down here holding me, not when someone else is going to need you more.”
Chris. He’s seriously playing the Chris card. They must have less time than Buck thought if Eddie’s stooping so low. And what’s he going to say? No? Of course not. Of course Buck’s body will walk away from this place, even if half his heart and just about all his soul will linger here, wrapped around Eddie’s corpse for the rest of his days. Eddie doesn’t need to leverage that sort of promise from Buck. It’s almost funny that he thinks it's necessary.
Not funny ha ha. More- Greek tragedy funny, which is to say not funny at all. It’s possible Buck hit his head. It would explain why he feels like giggling while sobbing.
“Buck, baby, I need you to promise me.”
Blood loss should make his gaze dim, his focus fuzzy. But Eddie Diaz is the type of stubborn that can override simple biological necessities like blood oxygen levels and heart rate. His eyes are sharp, cut through with pain that Buck’s over romanticized mind can’t help but imagine has nothing to do with the rebar stabbing through him like a toothpick in the shrimp cocktail bowl.
“But,” he tries to explain, sounding so much like Chris trying to negotiate screen time it hurts, “It isn’t going to come to that. We’re going to have more time. I know it.”
“You know it, huh?” Eddie echoes. He closes his eyes and leans in, letting their noses bump and lingering there. Giving Buck the option, he realizes with sudden clarity. Their first kiss, if he wants it now. If he doesn’t want to risk waiting.
Buck turns and presses his lips to Eddie’s cheek instead.
“I know it.”
It gets a small smile out of Eddie. “Alright Cowboy, I’ll bite. How do you know it?”
“Because I'm going to marry you someday.” He… didn’t plan to say that. Not at all, in fact. The head wound theory may not be that far off. But it’s true, one of the truest things he’s ever said, and Eddie’s looking at him like Buck’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen, so he keeps going. “I know- I know how that sounds. We haven't had our first date yet. Our first kiss. I know it- it sounds crazy. But- Eddie. I know it in my bones. You're going to be my husband someday.”
Eddie blows out a breath that’s shaky and wet but his smile has grown and transformed his face into something beautiful. Buck leans back to get a better view and takes a picture in his mind. He never wants to forget the way Eddie looks right now.
“God, Buck, I-”
“Just heard from dispatch,” Bobby interrupts, sheepishly like he’d hold off if he could. Buck wonders how many other people are tuned into their radio frequency, listening in on two idiots in love trying to take on the universe. The thought doesn’t bother him as much as maybe it should. “Medevac is still twenty five minutes out. The train is almost completely cleared and I’ve got our whole crew right on the other side of this wall.”
“Then what are we waiting for Cap? We need to get moving.”
Chim pokes his head out of the train car, looking deeply apologetic as well. “It’s a balancing act, Buckaroo. As soon as we start messing with this thing, Eddie’s going to feel it in a big way. Right now he’s relatively stable, but-”
“He won’t stay that way.”
“He is right here and still conscious, in case y’all forgot,” Eddie grumbles. “So how long until we de-shish kebab me?
“Semi de-shish kebab; we’re only going to shift you forward enough to fit a saw behind you,” Bobby explains like that’s so much better. “We’ll give it fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. First we cut the rebar on our side, then we cut an opening for the two of you to fit through. Once we have a clear point of access, it’ll take all of us to ease you forward with minimal jostling until Chim can slip behind you with the saw. I know it sounds complicated but if we work quickly and efficiently we’ll have you topside and on that chopper in under ten minutes.”
“Fifteen, twenty minutes?” Eddie repeats, still looking at Buck with an inexplicable blend of fire and amusement in his eyes. “I think we can work with that.”
“Why do I not like where this is going?” Bobby asks, looking at Buck like he has any clue what Eddie’s talking about.
Maybe the blood loss is starting to get to him, maybe-
“Can today be someday?” Eddie asks softly.
Buck’s brow furrows at the question. “What?”
“You said- you said you'd marry me someday. Can today be someday?”
Realistically, Buck knows that time doesn’t stop. There’s a ticking clock somewhere with Eddie’s name on it, things could go south any second. This isn’t so much a sweeping romantic gesture as it is a desperate bid for a hope they can hold onto. And yet. Their arms are wrapped around each other, matching smiles and glistening tears and pounding hearts. For them, it’s the perfect moment.
Buck nods. Laughs. Nods again.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks, grinning hard enough to crinkle his eyes and push a tear down his dust covered cheek.
Buck leans in to kiss it away, all salty and gritty and perfect because that’s his fiancé’s cheek. He just wishes he could enjoy their engagement for more than a handful of minutes.
“I love you, Eddie,” he whispers fiercely.
Eddie pushes their foreheads together, still smiling wide. “Love you right back.”
“Uh, guys?” Bobby reluctantly interrupts again. “Not that we aren’t happy for you, but the only place you’re going today is a hospital. The wedding might have to wait for another day.”
“No, Cap, you don’t get it. The wedding is happening now. Hen?” Eddie calls out, waiting for her to appear through the train’s door before he continues. “Didn’t you get ordained last week?”
She opens her mouth but Chimney pushes his way into the tight space before she gets a chance, pointing threateningly at the two of them. “That’s for my wedding! You know Maddie is going to have words for you, right? So many words. Stealing our thunder. Skipping the shovel talk. Not inviting her to your very fancy underground wedding- you two are going to incur so much wrath.”
Chim’s right, of course. Fuck, what Buck wouldn’t give for Maddie to be here. He needs her fierce loyalty and unwavering support, can’t actually imagine getting through all this without her. But they’re stealing time as it is and as much as Buck would like for everything to be perfect he’s well aware that this wedding could turn into a funeral any minute now.
“I’d say we can keep it a secret and do another ceremony later, Chim, but-”
“I’d fold the second your sister looked at me, yeah yeah. Alright,” he claps his hands together, “Let’s do this thing. But no complaints that we didn’t get you a gift. Only planned weddings require presents.”
He sounds annoyed but Buck can see his eyes are glistening as well. He reaches out to pat first Eddie’s then Buck’s shoulder before stepping back into the train. Hen still looks a little like she’s the one with a concussion but she hasn’t run off screaming, so that’s a start.
“Hen,” Eddie calls gently. “Please?”
“Hush you,” she teases. “I haven’t exactly memorized the order of things yet so we’ll have to wing it a bit.”
“Sounds perfect,” Buck assures her.
He can feel Eddie sagging a little more into his chest, the effort to keep his head up and keep talking sapping his strength. Buck wants to be a better man, call this whole thing off so Eddie isn’t overdoing it. He’s being greedy and at what cost? It wouldn’t be worth it to be Eddie’s husband just long enough to become a widower.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers, pressing their cheeks together like they’re back to slow dancing in his kitchen. “I’m ready if you are.”
Buck takes a breath and nods to Hen.
“Right. Okay. Well, it’s pretty clear you’ll be giving yourselves away, so we’ll skip over that-”
“Actually,” Eddie interrupts. “Cap, you over there?”
Bobby pokes his head back around the corner looking wide eyed in surprise.
Buck can feel Eddie try to stand up straighter and wince because of it. “Sorry I’m doing this all out of order but, uh, do I have your blessing? To marry Buck? I’ll have to ask Maddie retroactively so, you know, it would be nice to get one of you to give-”
“Of course, Eddie, of course you have my blessing” Bobby says seriously, looking between the two of them with the sort of fatherly love neither of them experienced until they arrived at the 118. He wipes at his eyes and gives them one last smile before stepping back inside and giving Hen space to continue.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say neither of you wrote your own vows?”
They both snort softly. “I haven’t even picked out what to wear on our first date,” Eddie admits.
Hen huffs. “Lucky for you, I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore. Alright, I’ve been to enough weddings to remember the gist of it.” She takes a long, slow breath before she continues. “Eddie, repeat after me: Buck, I take you to be my partner for life, my constant friend, and my truest love.”
Eddie leans back to rest his head on the concrete behind him, kicking a tiny cloud of dust down into his already powdered hair. He’s hiding how much effort it’s taking but Buck knows how important it is to the other man that they’re looking at one another right now, so he lets it go. He rests a hand along Eddie’s jaw instead, just in case he needs help staying upright.
“Evan,” he begins and Buck’s already tearing up. His name has always sounded different coming out of Eddie’s mouth. Like it’s something precious. “I take you to be my partner for life, my constant friend, and my truest love.”
Hen feeds him more sweet words but Buck gets lost in the brown of Eddie’s eyes, dancing with happiness. He has one hand pressed directly over Buck’s heart, something he’s been doing a lot since the lightning strike, one thumb sweeping under the snaps of his uniform to rest that much closer to his skin.
“I pledge to love you, to comfort you- to honor and keep you,” Eddie continues so earnestly there isn’t a doubt in Buck’s mind that he means every syllable. “I will remain faithful to you for better or worse, in sickness,” he pauses to grin at Buck because that one in particular has been the cosmic joke of their relationship to date, “and in health, ‘til-”
"Don't,” Buck gasps, the intimate bubble of happiness- of love against all odds- bursting instantly. "Don't say it."
He knows what comes next. He doesn’t want to hear what comes next. Even if it means he can’t be Eddie’s husband. Nothing can make him listen to the words ‘til death do us part pass Eddie’s lips. Not now and not ever.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie pleads, his eyes too knowing, too understanding.
Now it’s Buck’s turn to tuck into the safe, dark place between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. The tears were already there, pooling in his eyes, but they come flooding out of him now, hot and stinging. He wants to grip Eddie hard and cling desperately but he can’t, not without hurting him. He settles for pressing his open mouth to the meat of Eddie’s shoulder and unleashing just a small piece of his fear and pain through a muffled, hitching sob.
Eddie’s face comes close, pressing small kisses to his neck and face and hair, anywhere he can reach, while he hushes Buck with a voice that sounds moments from breaking. “Alright, shh baby, it’s alright. I won’t- I won’t say it. I can say something else, yeah? Let me- just let me see you. I need to see you.”
Buck’s sure the dust on his face has turned into a muddy clay between his tears and running nose. He probably looks the direct opposite of a groom on his wedding day. But when he picks his face back up, Eddie smiles like he’s never seen such a welcome sight. Because Eddie never judges Buck when he breaks, when his emotions flood through him and sweep him under, hell bent on drowning him. He just offers a lifeline and helps pull Buck to dry land. If Eddie doesn’t walk away from this, Buck’s not sure who will keep him on solid ground.
“In sickness and in health,” Eddie repeats, unblinking and sure. “You are my best friend and I will love and support you, always. You can have my back any day. Every day. Forever.”
It’s everything. Years of friendship, of ups and downs and challenge after challenge, of choosing each other time and time again. It’s making their family by rebuilding their lives brick by brick and piece by piece until they could stand here as one complete picture. It’s one soul seeing another and saying, against all odds, you- you belong with me.
“Can I kiss you now?” He’s had enough anticipation to last a lifetime at this point.
Eddie’s pointed canines poke through his grin. “Think you’re supposed to say it back, first.”
Shit, that’s right. Talk about a rookie move.
“Yeah Buckaroo, don’t skip to the end just yet,” Hen scolds him while wiping tears from her cheeks. That gets Buck going again, his throat squeezing just when he thought he’d have his voice under control. Bobby and Chim can’t fit outside the train compartment all at once but they each have a hand on Hen, holding so tight to her that Buck can feel their presence and support from a few feet away.
“Right-”
“Medflight 22 to Captain Nash, you copy Cap?” Crackles through their radios. Buck would recognize that voice anywhere.
“This is Captain Nash- Donato, that you?” Bobby replies.
“Who invited her to the wedding?” Eddie grumbles, looking a little less alert than he did a few minutes ago but still present enough to be cranky at Lucy for crashing their ceremony. Buck refrains from commenting, though he certainly files away the knowledge that Eddie is a bit possessive for later.
“We’re eight minutes out. We’ll have a basket lowered for your guy two minutes after that.”
“Copy, see you soon,” Bobby keys into the radio, then he sticks his head out with that same apologetic look. “We need to get moving here- two minutes and then we start cutting.”
Two minutes isn’t even long enough for the amount of kissing Buck has planned for them. But Eddie’s head is dipping and it’s clear that the clock they’ve been borrowing time from is running down to zero.
“Eddie- Eds, look at me Beautiful, c’mon,” Buck coaxes until he sees the warm brown of his eyes again. Now or never. “Me too, all of it. To have and to hold- sickness and health and natural disasters. I’ll honor you and cherish you through all of that and more. You’re my partner and my best friend- you have my back and I have yours- no matter what the universe throws at us. I love you now and I’ll love you forever and I’d really, really like to seal this vow with a kiss please.”
“Well don’t hold back on my account,” Hen says through a wet smile. “By the power vested in me by the state of California I declare you husbands and lovesick fools from this day forward and forever more. Now hurry up and kiss already.”
Buck doesn’t need to be told twice. He dips in, holding Eddie’s head carefully in one hand while he does his best to keep him from shifting around. Their lips are gritty where they meet and maneuver into a better fit, the kiss chalky and dry and perfect in its imperfection. The moment Buck tries to pull away Eddie catches his full lower lip between his teeth, coaxing him back in for a second, slower kiss. It’s the kind he can imagine they’ll share over the back of the couch or leaning against the fridge in the kitchen. Unhurried and sure, the way you kiss someone when you know they’ll be around every day for the rest of your life.
“Worth the wait?” Eddie asks against his lips.
Buck scrunches his nose but doesn’t back away from a third kiss when it’s on offer. Or a fourth.
“Don’t be smug.” Eddie may be a secret romantic and a damn good kisser but Buck’s the one who’s going to have a thing or two to brag about once he gets Eddie alone, naked, and free of abdominal impalements. Which may not be for a few weeks, now that he’s thinking about it. Still, he’ll get the last laugh. “And I want a ring, so don’t think I’m letting you off the hook on that.”
“Front shirt pocket,” Eddie shoots back with a slight tilt of his chin toward his chest.
Buck’s a little afraid that his husband- husband, his husband - is secretly psychic. There’s no way he’d have a ring-
His fingers tangle in the fine metal chain he’s caught glimpses of a hundred times over the years. He’s never touched the St. Christopher’s medal before but it feels exactly as delicate yet substantial as he imagined it would.
“Wear it for me,” Eddie whispers. “You can give it back when I put a ring on your finger.”
“Ready boys?” Bobby asks, saw in hand and the stoic mask of a first responder slipping into place.
“No,” Buck sighs, adding a kiss to each corner of Eddie’s still-smiling mouth and tucking the necklace into his pocket for now.
Those brown eyes haven’t left Buck’s for even a moment to acknowledge the disaster around them. “Let’s get this over with, Cap. I have a honeymoon to plan.”
“One thing at a time, yeah?” Bobby’s mask slips, just for a second, to give them an exasperated shake of his head. “On my signal, we start cutting and we don’t stop until you’re out. Buck- keep pressure on those wounds as much as you can. And Eddie? No need for a brave face. You need to scream, you scream.”
“Copy that, Cap,” Eddie says with a nod in his direction. The moment everyone else disappears he tips his chin up for a kiss that’s deep and rough and not even a little bit appropriate for work. It has Buck whimpering with needy surprise that, thankfully, can’t be heard over the sound of the saws kicking to life behind him. Eddie hears it, though, and really has no business looking so self satisfied about it.
“One for luck,” he explains like he even believes in the concept. Buck does- he believes in the universe fucking with them and luck and manifesting and all that shit- so he tries to hold onto that half melted feeling of happiness when the first screech of metal on metal pierces the air.
The team does move fast and, later, Buck will mostly remember the actual rescue as waves of sensation more than detailed events.
He’ll remember the layers of noise; his broken voice telling Eddie he loves him again and again while the sound of saws cutting through metal are undercut by pained gasps that grow into cries that climb into shouts and screams as Eddie clings to him with the last of his strength. He’ll remember the feeling as everything shakes; the vibrating rebar pressing into his side and through his freshly minted husband, Eddie’s body trembling and shuddering with pain and blood loss. His own legs, reaching the limits of their stability as the adrenaline peaks and purges out of his body.
He’ll remember Eddie’s mouth sucking air in and pushing it out, hot and wet and shaky- in and out, in and out over his collarbone- his tears soaking Buck’s neck even as his own flow and drip into Eddie’s hair.
He’ll remember thanking whatever higher power might be listening that Eddie is still alert and standing by the time they cut the side of the train car away. And he’ll remember cursing those exact same powers when he realizes the rescue is far from over. When he realizes they still have to drag Eddie forward along the rebar and the worst is yet to come. Buck curses god and the universe, karma and fate, Bobby and the team- he even curses himself as Eddie begs and pleads with them to stop, that he can’t take any more, and they continue pulling him anyway. He curses Eddie too, while he’s at it, for being the most stubborn son of a bitch to ever walk this earth, remaining conscious long past when the pain should have pulled him under.
Eddie finally slumps, silent and still into Buck’s waiting embrace when Chimney slips behind him to make the final cut and free him from the slab of concrete that both sheltered them from harm and separated them from help for so long. There are hands and bodies everywhere, suddenly flowing around Eddie and the section of rebar he’ll be taking with him all the way into surgery, if he makes it that far.
The words being exchanged don’t register, don’t really matter when Buck’s clothes are soaked through once again with Eddie’s blood. When the team takes over, Buck's hands don’t know what to do now that they aren’t cradling Eddie’s face and holding up his body. His legs feel useless now that they aren’t braced to support his weight.
They’re married now, two halves of the same whole. Buck isn’t meant to be apart from him. Not even by the few feet of space between them now as Hen and Chim work to stabilize him as much as they can while prepping him for transport.
Buck’s his husband. The term is so big, it encompasses so much. Too much to focus on all at once. Right now, at this moment, it means they belong together. It means he can go with him on the med flight. Right? Surely Bobby will let him go. Maybe he would have anyway, married or not, because Bobby would know he needs to be by Eddie’s side on this one.
For better or worse. That was the promise he made. He has to be there, with Eddie, to find out which it’ll be this time. Buck begs for better but braces himself for worse.
Bobby appears in front of Buck. He may have already been there, actually, and Buck only became aware of him now. It’s the tunnel vision, things are a little dim around the edges at the moment. That’s not a good sign but certainly not enough of a problem that he’s going to pull someone away from Eddie. They’re all ending up at the hospital either way. Which reminds him-
“Bobby- the chopper,” he tries to find more words but he’s getting a head rush from his circulation being back in working order. It’s his own blood, firmly inside his body and filling his mind, putting it on the spin cycle. But he needs Bobby to tell him it’s alright for him to fly with Eddie and hold his hand. Eddie doesn’t like helicopters - understandably - even though he hides it well from the rest of the team. He’ll probably have nightmares later.
Bobby looks confused, like he doesn’t understand even though Buck explained it all as best he can. “The chopper for Eddie? It’s right above us, ready to go when Eddie’s okay to move.”
“Move?” Will Buck get to move too? Maybe he can finally move in with Chris and Eddie. Not temporarily but forever. Bypass the couch. Create a marriage bed. Buck sleeping on the left and Eddie on the right.
“Buck, you good?” Bobby gives his shoulder a little shake like that’ll bring him back to reality. He doesn’t realize reality is the last place Buck wants to be. “They’re doing everything they possibly can for Eddie, alright Kid?”
That sounds like what they tell a patient’s family when they don’t expect things to work out. Hedging their bets, not making any promises. It’s how Bobby talked to him when Eddie was in the well, saving himself because no one else was going to do it for him. And when he was in surgery, when Buck couldn’t stay to see if he pulled through because Chris came first. Christopher always comes first. Even if Eddie never gets out of this godforsaken train car alive, Buck will drag whatever broken bits of himself he has left- drag them out and up and home. For their son.
Because before he was a husband to Eddie, he was a father to Chris.
It’s the last thought in his mind before everything goes blissfully black.
Things don’t feel the same when you wake up from true unconsciousness as they do when you wake up from regular sleep. Buck hates that he knows that, just like he knows he was well and truly down and out for some indeterminate stretch of time.
It isn’t one single thing that clues him in, either. There’s the dryness in his throat, widespread and layers deep that a single sip, a single cup of water isn’t going to rehydrate. The heaviness of his eyelids, barely able to manage lifting a sliver before they’re pulled back down again and again, lashes gummy and clumped from staying glued shut.
The beeping hospital monitors and IV in his arm kind of give the game away, too. Now he just has to figure out if he’s actually awake or if he’s dream-awake. Which is something he has to worry about, now.
Buck wins the fight against his eyelids, prying them fully open and immediately spotting one of the people he loves most in any and every existence.
“Mads,” he croaks, startling her from the light doze she was slipping into. He needs to ask her what her daughter’s name is, has to check because Maddie being here doesn’t actually give him enough information to be sure-
“You got married, Buck? Seriously?! You couldn’t, I don’t know, call me so I could at least listen in?”
Something tells him it might be better to let his eyes slip shut again and try his luck in another hour or two. He remembers- but can he trust what he remembers? A romantic dinner with Eddie, slow dancing in the kitchen, a freak accident that brought on a spur of the moment proposal- it sounds like a fairy tale, blood and gore and all. Add to that the coincidence that Hen happened to be permitted to perform a half cocked wedding ceremony? Those borderline scripted wedding vows followed by perfectly imperfect kisses, only to be rescued by the skin of their teeth? Maybe in the movies. Or his imagination. But in real life? Not a chance.
There are tears running down his face but he doesn’t bother wiping them away. They’re not real either. Only his twisted, fucked up subconnscious could come up with something like this. Giving Buck everything he’s always wanted but making it gritty and dramatic so he feels like he earned it? That’s a new low, even for him.
“Buck? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Dream Maddie looks torn between wrapping him in her arms and calling for his doctor. Maybe she should do that, just so Buck can see if it’s Daniel or some narcissistic body double of his own. Maybe this time it’ll be Doug. Or none of the above, if this is the dream where he gets everything he’s ever wanted.
“Hey, look at me Evan, you’re alright, it’s okay. You have a concussion and a contusion on the back of your head. And Eddie’s okay, he’s stable and out of surgery. He should be moved out of the ICU and into a room in a couple hours. Chris is with Carla, he’s coming to the hospital in a little bit and was already asking to see you.”
She’s saying exactly what Buck would expect her to. It only solidifies his belief that he isn’t awake at all. He finds himself squinting at the cards by his bed and the windowsill for any hint, the smallest clue that he can point to with triumph that he’s in a coma again. Still? Things have been strangely idyllic since he woke up after the lightning strike. Could it all have been a long con by his own subconscious?
Maddie pinches the delicate skin of his inner wrist and he yelps, offended and surprised that she isn’t putting on her best bedside manner in his imagination. “Are you going to use your words or am I supposed to guess what you’re freaking out about?”
Maybe if he goes back to sleep, he’ll wake up in the real world. A world where he and Eddie are friends and work partners. He can live with that. He doesn’t want to be trapped in a fantasy, even if it’s a perfect one.
“You don’t- Buck, you aren’t second guessing marrying Eddie, are you? Because-”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m not married to Eddie. Not really.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Chimney says as he enters the room, two coffee cups in hand. He offers one to Maddie and wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously in Buck’s general direction. “It seemed pretty official to me. I mean, we all missed out on seeing Jee as the world’s most adorable flower girl, but given the circumstances I think we can let it slide.”
Jee- Maddie and Chim are together. They have Jee.
“Is he doubting my officiating skills?” Hen demands, her own coffee halfway to her lips when she steps through the door. “Because I did some googling while we were waiting for you to wake up and I can assure you I didn’t miss anything critical, y’all are very much married Buckaroo.”
Buck does another sweep of the room. Is this a new depth of deception his brain conjured up? He can’t be sure, not until he sees-
“Ah, the groom is awake I see.”
Bobby. Not strung out and manic. Just tired and a little exasperated in that fond way he has that makes Buck feel like he isn’t a total failure. Bobby’s been giving him that look since his first week as a probie.
So… it isn’t a dream? Marrying Eddie wasn’t some fucked up illusion? It was all real. Every second of it.
Now Buck starts crying in earnest.
He’s surrounded instantly, everyone trying to talk over one another to soothe and explain and examine him. It takes a minute, but eventually Buck gets his breathing back under control and waves them back, a little embarrassed and a lot loved.
“Thought maybe that was another crazy dream world,” he explains. It’s all he needs to say for them to understand. And he loves them fiercely, this mismatched family of his. But they’re not who he needs right now. “I have to see him.”
“Buck,” is said four different ways in four different voices and he can hear in each of them the resignation that when he pushes on this, they’ll fold.
“Please?”
He can do it without them, he’s pretty sure, but the chances of being caught and dragged back to his own bed are a whole lot higher. He’d also have to sneak around without pants in his flimsy gown and he’d really, really like to avoid flashing half the hospital if he can.
Shockingly, Bobby gives in first. “Fine. But only after your doctor comes in to examine you and Eddie’s moved to a room. Deal?”
“Deal,” Buck agrees eagerly. “Can someone find me some pants?”
It takes three excruciating hours of cognitive tests and fussing, of Buck checking again and again that the subway collapse turned wedding wasn’t something he just made up, before the coast is clear and he’s being maneuvered into a wheelchair at Maddie’s insistence. Apparently no one wants to try and catch his bulked-out overly-muscled ass if he passes out. Hen’s words, not his.
They kindly leave him just outside Eddie’s room and spread out to keep watch in the hallway without him having to ask for privacy. It’s suspiciously quiet and Buck has to wonder if his family aren’t above handing out actual bribes to the staff.
He pushes his way through the door to be met with the beeping and whirring of a different set of machines. They’re too loud to hear Eddie breathing but his chest is rising and falling, noticeable even from across the room. They tell him Eddie’s heart rate is steady and even. Best of all, there’s nothing jutting out from his side trying to drain his blood and take him away from Buck anymore.
Eddie confessed to him, a few weeks after the lightning strike, that he couldn’t even look at Buck when he was so unnaturally still in his hospital bed. He understands that now. It’s easy to check the monitors. To isolate one part of Eddie to glance over. But his eyes seem determined to skip over his features, barely settling for a moment. The idea of getting closer, of touching Eddie, is terrifying. Is his skin warm or cold? If Buck were to squeeze his hand, would he squeeze back? As afraid as he is of the answer, Buck decides he has to know.
He wheels up to the right side of the bed, further away from the mound of dressings making a lump under the hospital sheets. Eddie’s hand is slightly curled by his hip like it’s waiting for Buck to take it in his own, an open invitation.
That removes any hesitation Buck felt when he entered the room. He cradles it between both his hands, squeezing tight and pulling it to his lips to rest there as he watches Eddie’s face. His expression doesn’t change, either in confusion or in recognition. The bottom drops out of Buck’s stomach for a moment, his chest tight with worry.
Then Eddie pulls their jumbled pile of hands up and in, eyes still closed and blindly maneuvering until Buck's palm is flat against the fabric of Eddie’s hospital gown. Directly over his heart. Buck’s happy to follow his lead and see what Eddie’s trying to tell him here.
“You know what this is made of?” He rasps.
Maybe he’s still a little loopy from anesthesia, thoughts a little jumbled and cloudy. It’s pretty cute. “Eds, what-”
“Husband material. It’s made of husband material,” he squints one eye open with a smirk. “Cause we’re married now.”
And god help him, Buck laughs. “Okay- wow. Well at least now I know I'm not trapped in a coma dream. Even my worst nightmares couldn't come up with a joke that bad. Husband material? That’s the best you could do?”
Eddie sobers instantly, eyes tracking over Buck’s face with soft understanding. “You thought it wasn't real, sweetheart?”
It doesn’t seem like his feelings are hurt so much as he wants to be sure of what Buck is saying. It still makes him feel a little ashamed, for doubting what they have if nothing else. He tucks his chin to his chest to speak into his lap. “How could it be? It all seemed too good to be true. Things don’t- they don’t usually work out like that for me.”
Eddie pulls his hand away from his heart to press a kiss to Buck’s palm. It helps him feel brave enough to look up again. There’s nothing but understanding and affection looking back.
“Buck, I love you but I have a rebar sized hole in my torso. How is that too good to be true?”
That’s a fair point. “Hey now, you were the one who wanted the whole fairytale romance. You know how gruesome those stories really are?”
Eddie tips his head back with a groan. “I wanted the Disney fairytale version. You know, appropriate for all ages?”
“Should’ve been more specific, babe. The universe loves a loophole.” Eddie still has his hand captive against his jaw and he tugs it close to kiss and worry at Buck’s wrist with his teeth.
Frankly, it should be illegal. Even if they’re alone in a room. Even if there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell it’ll turn into more. The simple fact that Buck now knows exactly what it feels like to have Eddie’s teeth on his body and it’ll be literal weeks before he can do anything about it is the definition of cruel and unusual.
Based on the glint in Eddie’s eye, he knows exactly what he’s doing. His husband is playing with fire and it’s about time Buck reminded him that he isn’t the only one qualified to do that.
Buck squeezes his eyes shut at the swoop of lightheadedness he gets when he stands from his wheelchair, bracing his hands on the rail of Eddie’s bed until it no longer feels like he’s on the deck of a ship.
“Buck,” Eddie grips his forearm in concern, seeming to notice for the first time that he isn’t the only patient in the room. “Are you hurt?”
There are several ways to answer that question but he opts for the foolproof actions speak louder than words method. Leaning over Eddie, Buck trails kisses along his neck, taking a moment to scrape his teeth carefully at the hinge of his jaw and nipping lightly at his earlobe.
“I'm alright. Now, didn't you say you wanted to savor the anticipation?” Buck murmurs into the skin behind his ear, dropping his voice an octave to repeat the words Eddie used in his kitchen just the other night. The heart monitor next to him makes it impossible for Eddie to hide his reaction and Buck takes that as encouragement to keep going.
The next series of kisses are wet, dragging things that map Eddie’s jaw until a hand blankets the back of his head and tries to pull Buck up to waiting lips. He goes but braces himself just above Eddie’s mouth, allowing the barest sliver of contact between them until a whine the likes of which he’s never heard his husband make is pulled from his throat.
“We’re going to be together forever, my love. What’s the rush?”
That, apparently, is the limit on how much teasing Eddie is willing to endure on the subject. He surges up and snares Buck’s lip in a not so gentle grip, pulling him down and thoroughly undoing him in the best way possible. Buck would like to point out that this part also doesn’t qualify as a family-friendly fairytale but, honestly, he doesn’t need the last word on this one. He’s pretty happy to have his mouth otherwise occupied for as long as Eddie has the energy to keep kissing him.
A throat clears very pointedly from the doorway. It pulls them apart just far enough that they can share a wide eyed look of shock and guilt. They’d both recognize that voice anywhere, even before he speaks.
“You two are in so much trouble,” Christopher scolds, stern look completely undermined by the wide smile slowly overtaking his face.
Eddie takes the mature path and closes his eyes, breaking into horribly fake snores that drown out the way Chris is giggling into his hands across the room. Buck rolls his eyes and shifts to catch Christopher in a hug when he reaches the bedside and leans into his chest with the same trust he’s shown since the first time they met.
They share a look as Eddie continues impersonating a chainsaw, half a smile still pulling at his lips.
“What are we gonna do with this clown, huh, Chris?” Buck asks, one hand resting on each of his boy’s shoulders.
Eddie stops snoring and pops one eye open, clearly nervous about what Chris will say but doing his best to hide it. In true Diaz fashion Chris simply shrugs and looks between them with one unimpressed eyebrow raised.
“You married him, Buck. He’s your problem now.”