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The radio crackled as Eddie pressed forwards, the building thick with smoke. He had to keep moving. If he didn’t, he was done for.
But his body ached, his muscles fatigued. He was hot, hotter than he could ever remember being. He was supposed to be out already. Everyone else was out. But Eddie had gotten trapped by a falling wall, and turned around, and now he couldn’t find a clear path out.
Instructions were coming through the radio, but they weren’t helpful, Bobby’s voice calm, yet not entirely calm, as he tried to direct Eddie safely out of the building. It wasn’t working. Eddie couldn’t see through the smoke, and he couldn’t feel through the heat.
Stumbling along a hallway, he sought the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t fall down them.
Abruptly, Bobby’s even voice was replaced with another, a familiar and unpleasantly panicked tone harping down the radio. “ Eddie, where the fuck are you? ”
Tugging his radio close to his mask, Eddie answered, “I’m okay, Buck.”
“ That’s not what I asked! ”
He kept moving, and did not answer.
“ Eddie! ”
“ Keep this channel clear, ” said Bobby’s voice again, still steady. “ Eddie, keep moving. The stairs should be close. ”
If they were, Eddie never would never know. There was a sudden creak, a crack, a sound of splitting wood that was loud and grumbling as a roll of thunder. Flinching, his head snapped back, looking upwards, towards the sound.
The last thing Eddie heard was the crackling of the radio, and Buck’s desperate voice screaming his name: “ EDDIE! ”
<*-*>
Leaning heavily against Buck’s arm, Christopher dozed. Buck’s eyes were burning with fatigue, but he couldn’t sleep, did not even want to try. Hyper vigilant, he glared at the door, jerking every time a nurse or doctor came through, but no one was coming to speak to him. He had been there for hours, too many hours, excruciating hours waiting for information that simply wasn’t coming.
He kept telling himself, at least Eddie was alive. And the response his brain offered every time was: for now.
Gnawing on his lower lip, Buck caught chapped skin with his teeth. It tore, painfully, and he tasted blood. Swiping a hand across his mouth, a red stain smeared his finger.
Getting Eddie out hadn’t been easy, not after the roof caved in and buried him, the upstairs hallway collapsing beneath the downpouring weight. He had fallen, had been buried, though the rubble of the old roof tiles had kept him safe from the fire.
It had taken too long. Too long, with Eddie unresponsive. His radio silence sent Buck into a tumult of panic, tempestuous, consuming panic. It had taken Bobby and Ravi, physically restraining him, to stop him tearing into the burning house. Desperation replaced the oxygen in his blood, and he was electrified, muscles arcing, as he fought against the arms pinning him back, screaming Eddie’s name into the bonfire night.
It was lucky they were all in their turnouts, or Buck was sure he would have drawn blood clawing at Bobby’s arm.
Buck hadn’t started crying until they’d pulled Eddie free, and then he fucking howled . He looked … broken, so broken, his strong body soft and heavy beneath his torn and dusty coat.
Bobby hadn’t let him go until Chimney and Hen had Eddie strapped on the stretcher, but he was close enough to see—to see that Eddie wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding in any way. Buck fought his way forwards, twisting both fists around the edge of the gurney. “Is he breathing?” he gasped. “Is he alive?”
Chimney’s hand bit into his shoulder. “He is.”
“Eddie,” Buck said, scruffing one hand across his damp cheeks, trying to clear the blur from his eyes. “Oh my god, Eddie, can you hear me?”
“He hasn’t been conscious since we got to him,” Hen said gently, and dread poured through Buck, drenching him in despair.
“Was he … did you have to …”
“He was breathing,” Chimney said. “But … it’s not good, Buck. We’re not getting a pupil response.”
Buck had made a noise he had never made before, and flung himself across Eddie’s chest. “No,” he mumbled. “No, no…”
“Buck, we have to move him.” It was Bobby’s voice, Bobby’s hands pulling him back, making him stand. “Come on, kid.”
“I’m not letting him go!” Buck barked.
“You don’t have to,” Bobby promised. “But we have to go.”
Somehow, the words connected in his brain, and Buck moved back, let them load Eddie’s lifeless body into the ambulance, and then clambered in as well.
Gripping Eddie’s hand with both of his own, Buck had started chewing his lip.
He was still chewing it, hours later, as he waited to find out if Eddie was okay. Nothing would sink in, all he knew was Eddie was being sent for scans, then surgery, then intensive care, but they weren’t allowing visitors yet.
The rest of the team was gone, back out on calls, but Buck had stayed at the hospital. Christopher had still been awake when he’d called, spending the night with Maddie and Jee-Yun.
Fighting to control his tone, Buck had told him only that Eddie was hurt, and when Christopher asked to join him at the hospital, Buck hadn’t had the heart to deny him. Maddie had brought him, and stayed with Buck for a few hours, until he’d sent her and Jee home again to rest.
“I want to stay,” Maddie said softly.
“You need to think of Jee,” Buck murmured. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
Maddie had held out her hand, pinky finger extended, and Buck had hooked his own around it for a heartbeat, two, then dropped his hand.
In a quiet voice, tears jumping forwards every other sentence, Buck explained what little he knew to Christopher, who listened carefully, asked a few simple questions, and fell into a tearless silence.
Together, they waited, Christopher eventually nodding off, while Buck continued to eat all the skin off his lower lip.
He couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t sleep.
The door opened, and a doctor came through. She glanced around the room, and murmured, “Edmundo Diaz?”
“That’s us,” Buck said quickly, rousing Christopher. He raised his head groggily, but Buck was already out of his seat, flocking to the doctor. “How is he?”
Her face was exceedingly grim. “Still critical,” she said. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial.”
“Crucial,” Buck repeated. “What does that mean?”
The doctor glanced at Christopher as he slid his arms into his crutches and slowly made his way over to them. Her eyes flashed back to Buck, as though she was unsure about speaking in front of a teenager. Buck pressed one palm to the centre of Christopher’s back as he reached them, and held the doctor’s eyes with a direct stare. “Tell us.”
She swallowed. “It means his chances of a full recovery hinge on how he responds over the next day.”
“Responds?” Buck prompted. Christopher moved a little closer to him.
The doctor looked increasingly grim. “He’s sustained a head injury, whether from the roof collapsing or the fall, we can’t completely tell. His pupil reaction is inconsistent, but improved. But unless he wakes up, we won’t know just how severe it is.”
Ice formed in Buck’s veins. His voice shook. “Unless?”
The doctor was silent. Beside him, Christopher shuffled his weight, glancing nervously at Buck. He rubbed his hand soothingly across Christopher’s back.
Buck forced himself to say the words, words he did not want an answer to. “You’re saying he may not wake up.”
There was a heavy pause, and then the doctor said gently, “It’s a possibility.”
Horror danced through Buck, and a swirl of nausea churned in his belly. His teeth worked at his lip again and a stripe of blood touched his tongue. His fist closed in Christopher’s shirt as he mumbled, “How high a possibility?”
The doctor hedged. “I wouldn’t like to speculate at this stage. We’ll know more over the next twenty-four hours.”
“Can we see him?” Christopher asked.
The doctor glanced at him, maybe about to ask his age; instead, she nodded and gestured to show them the way.
Eddie was in a narrow room, plugged into a series of humming machines and gadgets. Buck let Christopher go in first, following on faltering footsteps. In the bed, shrouded in white blankets and propped against plastic-covered pillows, Eddie looked immensely fragile.
It was worse than when he’d been shot. Buck had never seen Eddie look so tiny.
There was one seat in the room, and Buck urged Christopher into it, then hovered behind him. His skin itched, desperate to do something, anything, to make things better.
“Dad?” Christopher said, twisting one hand in the edge of Eddie’s blankets. “We’re here.”
A machine beeped in response and Eddie shrank deeper beneath the plump of bleached-white hospital linens. Buck curled his fingers into the bones of Christopher’s shoulder, then released him just as fast when Christopher gave a tiny squawk of pain.
Leaning forwards, Christopher twisted both hands around Eddie’s. He murmured soft words as Buck fidgeted, moving his crutches to one side, shuffling around to check the hospital monitors. He wished he understood what they all meant.
Christopher kept talking, tears springing beneath his glasses and tumbling down his cheeks between soft words that Buck, feeling like an intruder, deliberately tried not to listen to.
He was so focused on blocking his ears that he didn’t catch when Christopher began talking to him. “Buck?”
“Huh?” Glancing up, Buck stared at Christopher’s tired, wretched face, stared at the watery tracks streaking his skin.
Lips parting, Christopher stumbled over a few aborted sounds, then shook his head.
Softening, Buck moved towards him again, sank down beside the chair and rested his palms against Christopher’s bony knees. “Why don’t you try and sleep again?” he murmured.
“What if Dad wakes up?”
“I’ll wake you,” Buck promised. “Get some rest, Chris.”
For a moment, they just watched each other, and then Christopher nodded and bent forwards, resting his head against the side of Eddie’s mattress. He did not look comfortable, but Buck supposed it was better than sleeping upright in another hard chair. Toying gently with Christopher’s hair, Buck did what little he could to soothe him until, at length, he heard the shift in breathing, soft beneath the drone of the machines, that told him Christopher was sleeping again.
Legs cramping, Buck climbed up from the floor and circled to the other side of Eddie’s bed, lowering himself to sit against the mattress. Tears choked tight in the back of his throat, and roared with a burning sting against his eyes as he reached for Eddie’s hand, scooped it up between both of his own.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice thin as a cobweb. “I’m here.”
Buck’s only answer was the drone of machines, the huff of sleeping breaths.
A gnarled fist pounded against his heart, bruising it with every beat. “Eddie…” Buck started, but then the tears fell, racing down his cheeks, desperate sobs escaping him as Buck bent over Eddie’s smothered form and wept. His tears splashed against the blanket, darkening the fabric as they seeped into the woven cotton.
Clenching his teeth, he cried as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to disrupt Christopher.
Eddie did not stir.
Wanting to bury his face against Eddie, to ground himself against the smell of him, his feel, Buck couldn't get close without clambering fully onto the bed and lying down beside him. The bed was too narrow for him to fit, otherwise he would have done it—at least until the nurses told him to move. Instead, Buck reached for Eddie's hand, ignoring the tubes taped into his skin, and raised it to his face. His lips shifted vaguely against Eddie's knuckles, too clumsy with crying to be actual kisses.
Breath hitching and shaking as Buck tried to drag air into his lungs, he twirled his fingers through Eddie's and clung to him. The tears came from deep inside him, pouring out as he gasped and spluttered and let them fall until his eyes burned and his nose streamed, mouth slack against Eddie's knuckles. Eventually, the tears ran out and Buck gasped and hiccoughed his way into stillness.
Gradually, he came back to the room, glancing over to check Christopher; relief drenched Buck to find he was still sleeping. Then he scrubbed his hand beneath his nose, smearing sticky wetness across his skin. Grimacing, Buck swore softly and glanced around for tissues. There was a small square box on the cabinet beside the bed. He plucked a few free and tidied his face, the tissue thin and cheap scratching against his over-sensitised skin.
A second later, he noticed the dribble and streaks of snot coating Eddie's hand. "Oh, I'm sorry," he mumbled softly, and grabbed another tissue, dabbing it with great care across Eddie's skin.
When he was done, Buck scrunched the tissues up and dropped them into a rickety bin sitting on one of the trollies of machines. He swept his thumb across Eddie's fingers, tracing the dips between each one. His skin was cool and soft despite his hardworking hands.
Buck turned Eddie's hand over between both of his, trailing his fingertips across a calloused palm, stroking them down his fingers, brushing their prints together. A longing woke in him, mad and inappropriate, to have those hands pressed against his bare skin. "Eddie," he whispered. "Please wake up."
The machines buzzed and beeped and Eddie remained perfectly still.
"Eddie," Buck whispered again, his voice harsh and rasping. "You have to wake up."
"Do you want another chair?"
Buck jolted out of his skin as a strange voice cracked through the room. Swivelling on the bed, he stared as a nurse walked in, entirely unperturbed by his sorrow. She wandered over to one of the machines and pressed some buttons, and the cuff around Eddie's bicep inflated with a hiss of air. As the machine blipped, she checked Eddie's eyes with a pen torch, peeling his eyelids back and flashing the light into them. A soft sound echoed low in her throat.
"What?" Buck asked, his tone frantic. "What is it?"
She flicked the light again and then made some marks on a chart, before turning towards Buck with a quiet smile. "It's good. His pupillary response is improving. Both eyes are reacting to the light. It's a very positive sign."
Hope surged up Buck's chest, swelling in his throat. "So he's going to be okay?" He swallowed, shaking his head slightly. "But he's not awake yet."
The nurse's smile faltered slightly. "Try to hold onto the positives, dear. I'll bring you another chair."
Gaping as the nurse left the room, Buck didn't know what to think. He glanced back at Eddie, his skin dull and crepey, his soft mouth gently parted, the tiny shifts of his body as he breathed. Buck twisted Eddie's hand a little roughly between his, clinging to him.
When the nurse returned with a hard, plastic chair, Buck eyed it, glanced across the bed at Christopher who was still collapsed forwards into the mattress and sleeping, drawing rasping breaths. He had no doubt Christopher would wake up filled with aches and pinches and a twist of sympathy pulled at his belly. Rolling his gaze back towards the chair, Buck decided to ignore it, just as he ignored the nurse who left without trying to speak to him again. He preferred the bed, preferred being close to Eddie.
The hours wore away, and Buck held Eddie's hand, talking softly to him, crying intermittently and trying to stifle his tears whenever the nurses came in to check Eddie's vitals. He had no idea what time it was, and didn't care to check. He was glad that Christopher slept, and eventually fatigue swallowed the adrenaline and panic fuelling Buck's muscles and he started to droop, swaying where he sat, struggling to keep himself awake.
"You should rest," one nurse said sometime later as Buck flashed bleary eyes at him. "There's nothing to be done until he wakes up. Try and get some sleep."
Buck shook his head. "I can't sleep until I know he's gonna be okay."
"M'okay," interrupted a whisper-thin voice, and Buck lurched around.
"Eddie?" he squawked, snapping both hands around Eddie's arm. "Eddie!?"
There was a long, breathless silence as Buck's gaze flickered across Eddie's face, wondering if he was going mad with fatigue, if he was hearing phantoms. And then Eddie's lips parted just a fraction, his eyes still closed, and in the tiniest thread of a voice, he said, "Hey."
"Oh my god, Eddie!" Buck cried, and was about to lunge forwards and hug him when the lingering nurse blocked him, immediately jumping forwards as well. He began fussing about Eddie, leaving Buck feeling awkward and unsure. His entire body screamed at him to get close to Eddie, to find out if he was alright, to assure himself that Eddie was awake—the big maybe that his recovery hinged upon.
The nurse must have pressed a call bell, because a few moments later more medicos entered Eddie's room and Buck was made to move. He slid off the bed reluctantly, heart twisting hard when he caught Eddie whisper his name, but he couldn't get close as the doctors and nurses crowded between them.
In the rush of activity, Christopher woke and sat up, looking dazed and dishevelled. "What's going on?" he muttered, blinking wide-eyed around the room. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine," Buck said, his voice a little raspy, and he looped both arms around Christopher as the nurse turned and asked them to leave the room.
"Just for a few minutes while we run a few tests," he said, ushering Buck and Christopher out before Buck even knew he was moving. "Go and get a coffee—you look like you need one—and then you can come back in."
"But—"
"We won't be long and then you can have some time with him."
Shepherded outside, Buck gaped as the door was shut in their faces, and Christopher blinked up at him. "What happened?" he asked, voice tiny. There was fear in his tone, and Buck quaked to hear it.
He slid one hand around Christopher's shoulder and squeezed gently. "He spoke."
Eyes widening, Christopher twitched slightly and moved as though he were going to burst back through the door to get to his father. "That's great," he said, then stalled. "Right?"
"I think so," Buck said. Shivers coursed across his skin, running in waves of heat and ice. "I hope so."
"Why did they make us leave?" Christopher asked.
"I'm not sure," Buck said lowly. "I think they want to check some things."
"Oh."
But Buck didn't dare go far enough to find coffee. Instead, he slipped into a random chair lining the hallway and pulled Christopher onto his lap, despite him being too big and probably too old for it. Christopher didn't seem to mind, and leaned against Buck's arm as they waited to be let back into Eddie's room.
Tapping one restless foot, Buck's weight shifted in the seat and Christopher swayed against him. The minutes that they waited were agonising, Buck feeling the space between him and Eddie acutely. He needed to be in that room, touching him, talking to him, soothing both of them with the simpleness of being together.
"What time is it?" Christopher asked after a while.
"I don't know," Buck said. He could have pulled his phone out to check, but doing so would have meant moving Christopher, and Buck found his warmth steadying and reassuring.
At long last, the door to Eddie's room opened and a doctor came out, followed by two nurses. Glancing around, they spotted Buck and Christopher and approached them.
Wanting to leap up, Buck held himself still, afraid of sending Christopher flying. "Well?" he demanded.
A relieved smile crossed the doctor's face. "He's awake and he's responding well. You can see him, but he needs rest. Don't be alarmed if he falls asleep again."
"And ... is there permanent damage?" Buck asked, choking on the words. Christopher shifted across his knees nervously.
The doctor's expression shifted, and Buck shook. More reserved, she said, "We'll know more when he's stronger. Signs at this stage are good, but head injuries can be unpredictable."
Nodding silently, Buck's insides writhed as he tried to unravel what was happening, where they currently stood. "But we can go back in?" he asked.
"You can," the doctor said. "And I've asked a nurse to check in every twenty minutes for the next hour."
"Do what's needed," Buck said. "I get it. I want him to get the best care."
"We're doing what we can," the doctor assured him, and then gestured them back towards Eddie's room.
Clambering to his feet, Christopher climbed from Buck's lap. Wrapping his hand around Christopher's shoulder, Buck let him lead the way into the room, passing one final nurse who smiled at them as they went in.
Relief flooded down Buck's spine, drenching him in white hot hope as they entered the room and Eddie's eyes fluttered open—not all the way, but enough for him to spot them. The ghost of a smile touched his mouth.
"Hey," Buck breathed, moving close to the bed, Christopher beside him. "How're you feeling?"
"Peachy," Eddie sighed, eyes falling shut as he exhaled softly. With obvious effort, he slit his eyes open again. "Do I know you?"
Horror struck Buck like a hammer. Eyes wide, stared down at Eddie, his free hand scrabbling at the edge of the bed to stabilise himself as his body juddered. Christopher glanced up at him, looking just as terrified.
Gulping, Buck took a step nearer and forced himself to speak in a steady, gentle voice. "Uh, yeah," he murmured. "I'm Buck. I'm—" His next words died on his lips as Eddie gave a weak, wheezing chuckle. An indignant glimmer sparked in Buck's blood and he demanded, "Are you fucking with me?"
"Hee hee," Eddie whispered, a soft, sweet curve to his lips. He blinked again, slowly, but his eyes were a little brighter, a little wider and more focused as he opened them and discovered Christopher. Gaze drifting between them, he murmured, "Hey, boys."
"Hi Dad," Christopher said, moving nearer. He leaned over and gave Eddie a careful hug, and Buck watched Eddie's hands twitch to hug him back, but he lacked the strength and they sank into the white blankets.
Hanging back, Buck let them have their moment, but his body was alive with an itching need to touch Eddie as well, to smooth his hands along the muscles in his arms and up around his neck, to press their chests together and put his face against Eddie's, holding him tight and safe and secure.
Eddie's hand twitched again, and his eyes drifted over Christopher's curls to catch Buck's gaze. "Come on," he whispered, gesturing feebly for Buck to move closer.
Fitting his body around Christopher's, he exhaled roughly and curled in as close to Eddie as he could get.
Moments slipped away as the three of them rested together. Then, with great reluctance, Buck pulled back to give Eddie space. Christopher followed his example, and sank into a seat beside the bed again.
Lolling against the pillows, Eddie smiled at them both. "They said I hit my head," he whispered.
"The roof came down on you," Buck said. "And the floor gave way. It was bad Eddie."
"Well, I'm okay now," he said with a thin smile.
"Dad," Christopher groaned. "You're far from okay."
"I'm okay enough," Eddie said, sighing. "Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"Where's my chain?" A sudden worry wound through Eddie's words, soft fear staining his tone. "Did I lose it?"
"I have it," Buck said. Chimney had given it to him, had taken it from Eddie's lifeless body before they reached the hospital, and pressed it into Buck's palm. He had wanted to put it around his own neck, to keep it safe and warm against his heart, but it felt too personal. Instead, he had secured it in his pocket. Reaching for it, Buck snagged the chain between his fingers and tugged it free.
"You're such a sweetheart," Eddie breathed, and Buck's heart jolted, joy prickling him. Scooting his hands around Eddie's neck, Buck clasped the chain and shivered when Eddie murmured, "Feels so good to have your hands against my skin."
"Careful," Buck whispered back. "Your son is in the room."
Eddie made a dismissive mumbling sound and said, "Kiss me anyway."
Quivering, Buck bent over him and pressed chaste lips to Eddie's brow.
It earned him an unhappy grunt, and Eddie shifted beneath him. "You can do better than that," he groaned.
"You need rest," Buck whispered, bowing his head close to Eddie's.
"I'll rest," Eddie promised. "After you kiss me."
Buck wanted to protest again, to make certain Eddie wasn't going to be left exhausted, but he did not have the strength to refuse. Placing one hand on Eddie's chest, covering the Saint Christopher medallion, covering the dark, shiny ring nestled beside it on the chain, he sank down on the side of the bed again and bent down to press his mouth to Eddie's.
Humming against his lips, Eddie kissed him back, but barely. The weakness of him, the exhaustion of his injuries was evident in the tiny press he managed. Buck made his kiss gentle, sweet, filled it with all the love he could. His chest burned with it. Lingering against Eddie's tired pout, Buck took life from the touch, let it restore him, let it revive hope. And then he drew back, decisively, and smiled down at Eddie's sleepy gaze.
Eddie sighed, long and slow. "I love you," he whispered. "You look terrible."
Buck blinked, then scruffed a hand across his tired face. "I haven't slept in a hot minute," he said.
"Oh." The tiniest of creases pulled between Eddie's brows. "Go home. Sleep. I'll be okay."
Shaking his head, Buck said adamantly, "I'm not leaving you."
“Yes, you are,” Eddie said just as insistently. “Take Chris home, I’ll be fine. I kinda just want to sleep.”
“Eddie…”
“Don’t argue with me,” Eddie said, his eyes barely open. The edge of his mouth hardened with stubbornness. “Go home, get a pizza, and look after yourself.”
“No!”
Eddie groaned softly. “We all need rest,” he mumbled. “And I need you to be strong, mi amor . Strong for Chris. Strong enough to say goodbye for a bit.”
Lower lip trembling, Buck let the words shiver into him knowing Eddie had a point. He couldn’t keep Christopher at the hospital until Eddie was discharged. He had to be a responsible step-father. But his heart twisted with fear and despair. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” he said in a raspy whisper.
“It’s just for a little while,” Eddie breathed, his eyes closing completely. “Please, querido . I promise I’ll be fine.”
“I want you to be better than fine,” Buck said, snagging Eddie’s hand with his own and crushing his fingers. “Eddie, if I leave and something happens…”
“Nothing will happen,” Eddie said, but his voice was growing thin, his breathing sinking into a slow rhythm. “We just both need sleep.”
“I can sleep here,” Buck said, but he already knew he’d lost the argument. Christopher needed a proper meal and time to rest.
“Home,” Eddie whispered, his voice a thread. “But kiss me goodbye…”
Squeezing Eddie’s hand, Buck leaned over him and kissed him again, a feather-light touch, Eddie sighing against his mouth as he gave him the ghost of a kiss in return.
Stepping back, Buck let Christopher hug his dad goodbye as well, and then they finally headed home, waiting for an Uber in the hospital car park. They made it home safely, and Buck led the way to the kitchen.
“You should really rest,” Christopher said, following him.
Buck smiled at him. “You want some food?”
Christopher shook his head. “Go to sleep , Buck.”
Hesitating for a moment, Buck could not deny the bone-weariness dragging him down, the fatigue pinching his mind. Stifling a sudden yawn, he nodded slowly and rubbed his hand across the back of Christopher’s neck. “Okay,” he said. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Shower,” he said. “And then maybe nap too.”
Pulling him into a quick, warm hug, Buck let Christopher go and headed for the bedroom. Stepping inside, he eased the door shut and looked around. The room was full of Eddie, all his things, the distant scent of his cologne.
Shucking his jeans off, Buck clambered into their bed and hauled Eddie’s pillow against his chest. His smell was strong, wonderfully present, and Buck pressed his face against it and wept silently until sleep finally crept over him.
It was dark when he woke. Disoriented from the long hours spent in the hospital, Buck had no idea how long he’d been asleep. Stumbling from the bedroom to check on Christopher, Buck found him perched on the couch before the bright flashing screen of a video game.
“Hey, bud,” he murmured, sinking down beside Chistopher. Buck scrubbed a hand roughly across his face. “How long was I out?”
“Only a few hours,” Christopher said, pausing his game and turning to look at Buck. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You definitely haven’t slept enough.”
“I’ve slept enough for now,” Buck replied. Sighing, he got up again. “How about I order us that pizza, hm? And then we’ll go back to the hospital.”
Nodding, Christopher turned back to his game, and Buck couldn’t blame him for craving the distraction. “You should shower, too,” Christopher said, his voice deceptively light.
Squinting, Buck glanced down at himself and wondered if he stank. Probably. He grimaced, and left the room.
Ordering the pizza, Buck showered while they waited for the delivery, and tugged on one of Eddie’s henleys, a deep hunter green that was definitely more flattering on Eddie than Buck. He didn’t care. Wrapping his arms across his body, Buck sighed as more tears prickled at his eyes. Yanking a navy hoodie on too, Buck rammed the zip up and went to rejoin Christopher.
He didn’t have much appetite for the pizza, and most of it went into the fridge before they piled into Buck’s Jeep and headed back to the hospital.
Resting softly, Eddie’s eyes slid open as Buck stepped into the room behind Christopher. “Hey, you’re back,” he sighed. “Come and hug me.”
The three of them came together, a tangle of arms and pressing hands as Christopher and Buck dived at Eddie in the bed. “You look so much better,” Buck murmured, pressing his mouth to Eddie’s temple.
“Thanks,” Eddie breathed. “It’s so good to see you. Were you here before, or did I dream that?”
“We were here,” Buck whispered, kissing Eddie again.
A hand curled around the back of Buck’s neck and held him close, his cheek pressing against Eddie’s brow. “Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
Eddie grunted. It could have meant anything. “You missed the doctor,” Eddie murmured.
Buck’s heart beat faster, thumping hard against his ribs. “What did they say?”
“She said I need more tests over the next few days, but that things are looking good.”
Taking a slow, deep breath, Buck let it out in a woosh as he straightened up and glanced down at Eddie’s quiet smile. “That’s so good to hear. How are you feeling?”
He caught the guard in Eddie’s eyes as he answered. “Well, I’m full of drugs, so.”
“But do you feel okay?” Buck pressed. “Any memory gaps? Confusion? How’s your vision?”
“Buuuck,” Eddie whined, but his smile grew slightly. “You’re worse than the nurses.”
“Sorry,” Buck said, a delicate pinkness warming his cheeks.
He lifted Christopher to sit on the side of Eddie’s bed and dragged one of the nasty chairs up close beside them. It was plain Eddie was still weak and very tired, but Buck could also see the return of his usual energy, his sweetness and his sass. It was enough for now, and Buck was reassured as he sank into the chair and leaned forwards to curl one of his hands around Christopher’s and the other around Eddie’s.
<*-*>
“There better not be a party when we get home,” Eddie said as soon as Buck entered his room.
Buck’s blue eyes were unreadable. “Would I do that?”
“Yes,” Eddie insisted. “As evidenced by the fact that you’ve done it before.”
A cheeky grin spread across Buck’s face as he bent down to hug Eddie, curling him in a strong, safe embrace. Buck’s arms crushed around him and Eddie melted against him, secure in his warmth. “No party this time,” he promised, breath coursing across Eddie’s ear. “I have plans for you the instant we get home.”
“Oh, do you just?” Eddie asked, excitement warming his blood. “Do I get to know what those plans are?”
“They involve you, me, and a whole lot of naked skin,” Buck murmured, kissing Eddie’s ear before releasing him.
It had been over a week since Eddie’s accident, and he was impatient to go home. Apart from some lingering headaches, and a collection of supreme bruises, he felt recovered and was intensely bored of being forced to rest, where his only distraction was being subjected to the daily array of tests that ensured he had no lasting brain damage or physical impairments.
Snagging one hand around Buck’s neck, Eddie dragged him in and kissed him soundly, swallowing Buck’s soft sound of delight as he leaned into the kiss, his fists digging into the hospital mattress either side of Eddie’s thighs.
Breaking the kiss, Buck sighed as he stepped between Eddie’s knees and pressed close. “I wanna push you down and lick you all over right now,” he whispered. Eddie grinned, though the aches in his body protested slightly. Buck appeared to sense it, rolling his forehead against Eddie’s as he touched his hair with reverent fingertips and said, “I’m going to be so gentle with you. Show you just how much I adore you.”
“You show me that everyday,” Eddie said, looping his arms about Buck’s hips. A quiver ran through his muscles, and Eddie leaned back so he could look into Buck’s eyes. “What is it?”
Buck’s expression was painfully sombre. “I really thought I might lose you this time,” he said.
Pulling Buck close again, Eddie pressed his face to Buck’s chest and said, “I won’t let that happen.”
“One day it might not be up to you,” Buck mumbled, pressing his mouth to Eddie’s hair. “Eddie…”
“Shh, baby,” Eddie hummed, easing his lips across Buck’s shirt in a path of soft, reassuring kisses. “I know already. We just have to keep on appreciating and loving and celebrating each other, every single day that we have.”
There was a quiet pause as they held one another, and then Buck said, “What if we don’t get enough days?”
“We can’t think about that, Buck,” Eddie whispered.
Buck’s hand smoothed across him, raking through his hair, roaming down his back, holding Eddie close and warm against the strength of his body. “I love you, Eddie. I will love you forever. Whatever happens.”
“Whatever happens,” Eddie agreed, knowing it was a promise neither of them would ever break. “I love you too, Buck.”