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The sight of Buck asleep on the couch is becoming very common over recent weeks. Since being discharged from the hospital last month, he’s started dropping in whenever Eddie is off to relax and sleep. Considering the fact he died not that long ago, Buck’s been holding up remarkably well. He’s been back to work for a week, but the nightly visits haven’t stopped.
They both worked a half-shift today, covering for a couple of B shift who got food poisoning, and it was a busy twelve hours. Eddie’s feeling sore, and he isn’t recovering from death, so he can imagine how Buck must be feeling. It isn’t too surprising that he passed out while Eddie was doing the dishes.
Eddie puts down the two bottles of beer that he’s carrying and sits down in the chair by the couch. He knows from experience that Buck is likely to wake up if he sits beside him, like he’s for some sort of Eddie Radar that’s activated even when sleeping. Reaching for one of the beers, he takes a sip as he looks at Buck.
There are dark smudges under his eyes, visual proof of the lack of sleep he must be getting when he isn’t at Eddie’s house. His face is relaxed as he sleeps, his mouth open, and he’s snoring. Contrary to Christopher’s teasing, Buck doesn’t actually snore that loud. Eddie’s kind of gotten used to it over the years, and it’s oddly comforting when he hears the sound of snoring during late night trips to the bathroom or kitchen.
The beer is a local brew that Buck discovered last year. It’s a little tart for Eddie’s taste, but Buck really likes it, so he keeps a six pack stocked in his fridge for him. Eddie takes a swallow, his gaze not leaving Buck’s face. The extra half-shift on top of their twenty-four yesterday was probably too much for him. He hasn’t been back that long, just three shifts, and it’s the busiest they’ve been all week.
It doesn’t seem like Buck’s necessarily at risk to set back his recovery, but he’s definitely in need of some solid rest. Eddie still can’t believe that he died a little over a month ago and is already back at work. Despite the coma, he didn’t really have much physical damage from the lightning. He just had to take time to get his strength back, and he got cleared to return as soon as he could.
The mental part isn’t as easy to recover from. Eddie knows that from experience. He still has dreams about the shooting, about the well, about Afghanistan. The body can heal much faster than the mind. Buck’s back in therapy, a different doctor than the one he had during Covid, and he seems to be doing well with this doctor, but there’s a lot of trauma to process, so Eddie knows it’s a work-in-progress.
Buck died. He was dead for three minutes and seventeen seconds. Eddie knows the exact time because he’s pretty sure that his own heart stopped the same moment that Buck’s did. And it only started again when he was able to get Buck’s heart going again.
He remembers the shock of electricity that knocked him off the ladder truck, the rain in his face as he saw Buck hanging off the ladder, the way his throat felt when he screamed Buck’s name, the slick metal under his feet as he climbed up to reach Buck without a harness, not even caring that the ladder was still buzzing from the lightning strike. Things blur after that, driving and not being able to breathe, shoving Chim out of the way to take over, finally exhaling when the AED got a pulse back.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds is all it took for Eddie’s life to completely turn upside down. Buck died without knowing how Eddie feels about him. Seeing Buck that way forced open every box that Eddie stores his emotions in, compartmentalizing a bad habit since childhood when he was told that he had to man up at age ten and that being emotional wasn't manly. When Buck died, Eddie couldn’t ignore the feelings anymore. Feelings that he didn’t even realize he had until that stormy night.
No, that’s a lie. He’s suspected for a while, since he was trapped in a well and thought he was going to die and all he could think about was Christopher and Buck and getting back to them. It had slowly grown like an open wound, festering as Buck dated Taylor and he dated Ana, always there even if Eddie had wrapped it with gauze and tried to ignore it. He can’t ignore it now, which is a big problem.
Losing Buck, even for just a few minutes, has changed Eddie in a significant way. He can’t go back to pretending his love for Buck is strictly platonic, to ignoring the way he feels, to letting fear have any kind of control over him. Only he’s letting it do just that because he hasn’t found the courage to tell Buck anything.
There are times when he almost finds the words, but they’re gone before he can put his voice to them. He’s tried to show it, being there for Buck and helping however he needs, but their relationship has always been incredibly tactile and somewhat clingy, especially after one of them has an accident, so Eddie’s pretty sure that Buck doesn’t recognize any of the efforts he’s made as being any different than normal.
“You’re staring at me.” Buck’s voice is a low rasp, starting Eddie as he looks up to see blue eyes studying him curiously. “Is there something on my face? Did I drool?”
“I was, uh, I was just thinking,” Eddie says, glad that it isn’t a lie even if it isn’t the whole truth. He told Buck early on in their friendship that he’d never lie to him, and he isn’t going to start now. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Sore, tired, my leg is throbbing a little, and my shoulder feels like someone slammed it in a garage door. Oh wait, that actually happened,” Buck says, blinking a couple of times before he straightens up. “What were you thinking about, Eddie? You looked serious.”
“Nothing in particular,” he says, leaning forward to put his beer bottle on the table. “I’ve got some ointment that might help your leg and shoulder. I’ve been using it for muscle aches since I got shot, and it’s pretty good. All natural.”
“It’s worth a try,” Buck says, wiping his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t intend to fall asleep. Sorry about that. I come over and eat your food and then have a nap when you’re cleaning up.”
“You need your rest,” Eddie says, pushing himself out of the chair. “Besides, you actually ate the pasta I made without any complaints tonight, so you deserved a nap as a reward.”
“Well, you’ve gotten a lot better at cooking, so I can’t really say too much,” Buck says, grinning up at him in a way that makes his guts flip over. “You’re not at my level yet, but maybe one day.”
“Linda does a good job at giving me recipes that are basically foolproof,” Eddie says honestly. “I’ll be right back with the cream. Or, actually, maybe you should go to my bedroom so you can stretch your leg out on the bed. There isn’t much room to stretch it here.”
“If you wanted to get me into bed, all you had to do was ask,” Buck says with a laugh. Eddie isn’t expecting it, and he trips over the end of the coffee table, his face flushing with heat as he avoids looking at Buck. “Eddie, are you okay? You almost fell, man. Maybe I should get the ointment while you take a nap.”
“I’m fine,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes as he reaches down to rub his calf. The edge of the table will probably leave a bruise, which is wonderful. A visual reminder of his inability to handle Buck teasing now that he’s openly admitted to himself that he does want to get him into bed. “Just stumbled.”
“I noticed,” Buck says, his tone thoughtful. Eddie glances at him and isn’t that surprised to see him staring. What he doesn’t expect is the expression on his face, one that he recognizes from whenever Buck is doing a crossword puzzle or is deep diving into random internet rabbit holes to learn about the lifecycle of a mollusk or what makes the sky blue.
“Do you want a beer? I brought you one earlier, but it’s probably warm by now,” Eddie says, taking the unopened beer and walking to the kitchen. He needs to get away from Buck for a moment to collect himself because he’s acting like an idiot.
“Nah, it’s getting late. I’ll take a bottle of water, though,” Buck says, and Eddie can hear a low groan that’s familiar. Buck must be standing up and stretching, and the fact Eddie knows that makes him cringe because how in the world has he convinced himself that he’s just best friends with Buck for so many years when he knows the damn noises he makes for random things. “I’m going to go stretch out my leg, Eddie.”
“Sounds good, man,” he says. “I’ll bring the ointment to you in a minute.” He escapes into the kitchen and leans against the table for a moment, rubbing his hands over his face as he takes a few deep breaths. After a few seconds, he gets two bottles of water from the fridge and then goes to get the ointment.
When he walks by Christopher’s room, he checks on him. Chris is playing video games, his headset on, and he’s talking to his friends as he kills zombies. He gives Eddie a thumbs up before shooing him away. Eddie can’t help but chuckle as he shuts the door and shakes his head. Chris is growing up too fast, and now he doesn’t even warrant a goodnight dad, just a thumbs up.
After a stop at the bathroom, Eddie goes to his bedroom with the ointment and water bottles. When he steps inside, he freezes and bites his lip. Buck has changed into a pair of loose shorts that are well-worn and hanging low on his hips. He’s also taken his shirt off, the Lichtenberg figure on his right shoulder covering his skin.
“Hey, thanks, Eddie,” Buck says, reaching for a bottle of water. Eddie stares at him, not able to look away from the mark that hasn’t faded yet. When Buck’s fingers touch his hand, he blinks and looks away. Buck hums lowly before clearing his throat. “Hope you don’t mind, but I got comfortable so I could put the ointment on easier.”
“I don’t mind,” Eddie says, tossing the tube of ointment on the bed before twisting the cap of his water bottle off. He takes a gulp, almost choking at the rush of ice cold water down his throat. He coughs, flipping Buck off when he laughs at him. “What if I’d been choking and you were laughing? Some friend you are.”
“If you’d been choking, I’d have given you mouth to mouth, obviously,” Buck says, flopping down on Eddie’s bed. He smirks when Eddie looks at him, stretching out his ridiculously long legs on his mattress. “Oh, wait, sorry, wrong maneuver. I’d have done the Heimlich, of course, because I’m your best friend and you love me.”
Eddie’s fingers clench around the water bottle, and he’s so glad he drank some or else he’d have spilled it. It’s something that they say often, but there’s a tone in Buck’s voice that’s different. Eddie glances at him and catches him staring. He meets his gaze and smiles wryly. “Yeah, I do,” he says before looking away. “The ointment is there. You don’t want to use too much, just a thin layer over the sore spots should help.”
“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck says, his voice soft and almost hesitant. Eddie glances at him again, sees him looking at the tube. Buck’s face is flushed and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, something he usually does when he’s nervous or anxious about something.
“The ointment doesn’t hurt,” he says, frowning slightly. “It stings a little, at first, but you don’t need to be worried about it causing you any more pain. I can get a heating pad or ice pack, if your leg is really bothering you.”
Buck smiles, just a small curving of his lips that makes Eddie’s guts do the flip flop thing again. “I can’t reach my shoulder,” he says, holding out the tube to Eddie. “Would you mind putting it on for me?”
There’s really no valid reason to refuse. Eddie’s helped Buck through his initial leg injury, after all, and he’s even applied suntan lotion to his back when they take Chris to the beach. If he says no, it’s going to make Buck suspicious, and Eddie doesn’t want him to start questioning things. Not when he isn’t sure he’s ready to confess his feelings yet. He's still waiting for any indication that Buck feels the same way, and he’s not saying anything until he knows he won’t end up losing Buck.
“Eddie?” Buck waves the tube, his smile widening until there’s a flash of dimple. “You don’t have to if there’s some reason you wouldn’t be comfortable doing it.”
“Sorry, I think I’m more tired than I realized,” he says, putting his water bottle on the dresser before taking the tube from Buck. “Of course, I’ll help. You’ll need to tell me where it hurts the worst, though.”
“Sit here,” Buck says, patting the bed in front of him. Eddie arches a brow before he goes to sit behind him because that’s where the garage door had fallen on him. “Fine, do what you want. Not like you couldn’t have reached from where I said to sit.”
“I need to focus, not get distracted,” Eddie says, taking the cap off the ointment tube. Buck makes another humming noise, but Eddie ignores it as he looks at his shoulder. There are a couple of freckles on his skin, and some dark lines from the furthest edges of the Lichtenberg figure that spread over from the front.
“Are you saying that I’d distract you?” Buck asks, his tone curious but also…Eddie can’t quite place it. “I mean, I know I’m good-looking and irresistible, but I’ve never been called distracting before. Do I always distract you or is this a new thing?”
“Do you ever stop talking?” Eddie asks, impulsively leaning over and pressing his lips against Buck’s shoulder in a soft kiss. He hears Buck’s sharp inhalation of breath, feels him tense for a moment before he practically melts back against Eddie. Eddie blinks when he realizes what he’s just done, warmth flooding his face as he hovers above Buck’s shoulder,
“Me too,” Buck whispers, ducking his head and sighing as he holds his hands up, reaching back. “For years, Eddie.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, the word barely a breath as he reaches around Buck, taking the hand that he’s offering. “Yeah, same here. Years.”
Buck snorts, entwining their fingers together and squeezing. “Do you want to?”
“Yes, so much,” Eddie says, following along easily because this is Buck. He knows Buck just like Buck knows him, and they don’t need sweeping declarations when they’re so connected that it’s almost like sharing their heart. Or maybe their soul. “Do you?”
“Duh,” Buck says, laughing softly. “I definitely want to. Maybe forever, if that’s okay with you. If I’m not too much, I can be sometimes.”
Eddie kisses his shoulder again, pulling him against his chest and wrapping his arm around his waist. “It’s more than okay, Buck,” he says, just holding him tight. “I want that, too. With you. You’re perfect, to me. Good and bad, I want all of you.”
“We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Buck says, leaning his head back against Eddie’s shoulder. He kisses Eddie’s jaw, just a soft caress of lips against skin, and Eddie gulps because he’s not sure if he’s dreaming or if this is really happening. Buck strokes his finger over Eddie’s knuckles, his mouth ghosting along the curve of his jaw. “Right now, just hold me and don’t let go, Eddie.”
“Yeah, okay. I can do that, Buck. I won’t ever let you go,” he agrees, pressing his mouth against part of Buck’s Lichtenberg figure that’s on his shoulder. He wants to kiss every inch of the mark, every inch of Buck, but it can wait. He can wait. They have forever for that, after all.