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1.
He’s leaving. Eddie’s leaving and Buck is trying. He really is. But it’s hard to keep a smile on his face when it feels like half of his soul has been carved out of his body and he’s bleeding out in the kitchen they’ve spent so many nights in, trying to be fucking supportive like a best friend should be while the blood spells out the words on the floor. Don’t go. Please don’t leave me too.
“Let me get you a cup of coffee.” Eddie says from the kitchen while Buck settles on the couch with the tablet that just destroyed his life in .03 seconds as if it were the easiest thing in the entire world. He lets the emotions flicker on his face for just a split second, the implications of the situation settling into the pit that is now his stomach. But he can’t do that. He can’t let Eddie see how this affects him. He can’t be selfish. Can’t be exhausting. And man, he hasn’t thought about that in a long time. But now, he’s mulling through every disagreement, every argument, every near-death experience they’d had between the two of them wondering if he’d just done something differently or pulled his head out of his own ass sooner if they would have had more time together. More time to just exist with one another without the weight of the world on their shoulders. But he’d never considered it before. Never considered that this would be a possibility. That anything besides death itself would make Eddie leave his side.
But this wasn’t about Buck. This was about Christopher. Christopher who had his own traumas to sort through and who is vastly more important than Buck could ever hope (or even want) to be. This was about Eddie, who had probably had this exact same feeling in his chest for the last three months while Chris only offered grunts, emojis, and clipped responses to every conversation he’d tried to have. This was about a family that was dangerously close to being broken and trying to do everything to fix it before it’s too late. And so, he straightens his back, slaps the same smile on that he hopes reaches his eyes, and says ‘thanks man’ when Eddie hands him the mug of coffee and says:
“Okay, wingman. Let’s do this.”
2.
It’s two days later when Eddie lets it slip to Maddie. They’re in Buck’s loft, Buck baking yet another dessert that nobody needs. He can’t fucking stop. It’s the only thing that’s helping him keep his head on straight after everything that’s happened. Eddie sits at the island, beer in hand, scrolling through that fucking tablet and trying to narrow down his options. He’s getting dangerously close, and the more that this whole…thing…threatens to become a reality, the more Buck falls apart on the inside. It’s almost as if he's an egg, and somebody has thrown him full-force against the wall of the loft. But even shattered on the kitchen floor, shell destroyed and yolk running through the grout in the tile, he still manages to keep that million-dollar smile on his face while Eddie talks casually about bedrooms, and bathrooms, and parks, and schools.
When Maddie arrives at the tail end of Eddie’s lament about the current house on the list not having enough space, she brings with her three of Buck’s loaf pans, a Tupperware container that once housed lemon bars, a muffin tin, and a curious look on her face as she asks:
“Oh, you’re selling your house?” Buck determinedly does not look at her.
“I’m thinking about it, yeah.” Eddie replies, setting his beer and tablet down on the counter.
“Is this…an upsizing situation,” she begins, depositing the frankly ridiculous amount of cookware onto the opposite side of the island, “or are you just tired of the old place?”
“Well…” Eddie starts, trying to find the words. She can tell right away that she doesn’t like where this is going.
“Uh-oh.” She says, eyes flicking between the two of them. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s just that, Chris…hasn’t indicated that he wants to come home any time soon.” Eddie supplies, “Or…ever?” Maddie nods and motions for him to continue. “I don’t know, I just…can’t let this go on for much longer and if he doesn’t come back here…”
“You have to go…there.” She pieces it together. She hazards a glance at her brother who is now looking directly at her, smiling jovially as if nothing is wrong, but she can see it. The turmoil in his eyes as he whisks away at his lemon loaf mix and dutifully pours it in one of the pans she’d just dropped off. “So, you’re moving…to Texas.”
“I mean…maybe?” Eddie says, unsure. “Nothing is set in stone yet. I still need to talk to Chris about it and see if he’d even be open to the idea, but that’s assuming he’ll answer the phone when I call in the first place.” He finishes, peeling away at the label on his beer bottle. Something that she also notices her brother do when he’s bothered by a bad day at work, or his love life, or life in general. They’re so in sync, she thinks, even when they’re clearly not.
“Well, I think it would be a good idea.” Buck’s head shoots up, panic gracing his features for just a split second before Maddie speaks up again, “To talk with Chris, I mean…” she recovers. Buck goes back to the task at hand. Eddie eyes her curiously. “I just think that he might not want to lose his home here. You know?”
“No, I know.” Eddie sighs out, wiping his hand over his face. “I just…I have to do something.” Maddie nods pensively. Buck puts the pan in the oven. And if it were anybody but Maddie, they wouldn’t have noticed the small tremble in his hands as he finally spoke for the first time.
“Well, whatever you need man,” Buck says, clapping a hand on his shoulder and looking through him. “I got your back.”
When Maddie texts him that night, a simple “Are you okay?” after they’d both cleared out and he was alone in bed with his thoughts, he sent back a simple thumbs up and let the blankets slip over his head.
3.
The next day was harder. The station learned the news. Eddie told them over breakfast and let Bobby know that he’d keep him posted on any decisions he made one way or the other. The team, of course, were saddened by the news but understood.
“We’ll really miss you if you go.” Hen told him.
“Yeah man, you’re like our resident guard dog.” Chimney jokes, earning a soft huff from Eddie in response. “What’s Buck gonna do without you here to protect him from himself?”
And that’s the thing. The thing that makes Buck’s resolve crack and tears threaten to spring into his eyes. Because really, what is he going to do? He can’t wrap his head around not having Eddie there with him. Beside him on a call. Just down the road where Buck can bring beer and sit in silence after his shitty boyfriend broke up with him for no good reason. Having his back like he’d promised 7 years ago. He’s trying so hard not to be a selfish prick about any of this because he has absolutely no right and Eddie doesn’t owe him a goddamn thing. But on the other hand…
There’s the earthquake…and then there’s Chris. And then a crazy teenager blows up a truck that crushes his leg and Eddie holds his hand through the whole ordeal… And then there’s the tsunami and the there’s nobody in this world that I trust with my son more than you. And then there was the lawsuit, the street fighting, the wanna go for the title? And then there’s the well collapse, and Buck barely had fingernails left by the end of it. And after all that, Eddie got shot. Buck tasted blood for weeks. he broke down in front of Chris…Because, Evan. And then the lightning strike…3 minutes and 17 seconds…
And it’s so hard to keep his face restrained because he’s just now realizing that the special person the universe sent to him is already here. It’s Eddie. It’s always been Eddie…
And he’s too fucking late.
“Ah, I’ll be alright, Chim.” He said, voice not cracking at all. Hen clocks him immediately. “I’m a big boy now.”
Eddie laughs beside him, the most beautiful sound Buck has ever heard. Maybe the most beautiful sound he’ll ever hear.
“Yeah,” he says, smiling at him. “Buck’ll be just fine.”
His stomach suddenly hurts.
4.
That night, Eddie comes over after work again, almost bouncing on his heels because he thinks he’s found the place. The place to start over again. A place separated from all the trauma. All the pain and bad decisions that had left their family fractured like this. Buck schools his features just in time to smile over at him and put on his supportive-best-friend hat.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He says faux-dramatically, making grabby hands at the tablet to distract Eddie from actually looking him in the face. He doesn’t know if he can handle it right this second. Eddie surrenders the device so that Buck can scroll through the listing and…well. It is. It’s amazing.
“It’s got three bedrooms, two baths, one level. Nice kitchen. Handicap accessibility throughout.” Eddie spits out one pro after another and this is it, Buck thinks. This is the beginning of the end. “The backyard is very nice, enough room for barbeques with the family.” Buck nods, pretending to read statistics while he screams internally. “You’d have a place to crash when you come visit.” He adds at the end.
“Eddie it’s…” Buck starts, almost spilling it all right then and there. Vomiting his abandonment issues and weird codependency that’s somehow turned into an all-encompassing love all over Eddie while he’s perched on the living room sofa that hurts his back when he sleeps on it unlike the one that’s at Eddie’s home. His home. But how would that be fair? How would it be fair of Buck to overcomplicate this with his own feelings and concerns?
It wouldn’t be.
Chris came first. And that’s one of the myriad of reasons that Buck loved Eddie so fucking much. So he blinked away what might have been tears, and smiled warmly at the man who was breaking his heart, and told him:
“It’s perfect.”
That night, he cried himself to sleep.
5.
The day is getting closer and Eddie is going to leave. He starts packing up the little things in boxes. Knick-knacks, and books, and the dishes he doesn’t really use now that Chris is no longer here. Buck helps him, of course, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep soldiering on. Every picture, every sticky note, every little Lego figurine and coffee cup and colored pencil remind him that he’s this much closer to losing his best friend.
Eddie had put an offer in on the house. The perfect one. The one without trauma. The one without Buck. Now he was just waiting for the realtor to follow up with him and he could pack the rest of his things, put the old house up for sale, and then just like that…every tradition, every good memory, every giggle in the hallway when Chris wakes up to pancakes and every heavy sigh from Eddie after a long shift when he finally gets to put his feet up on the coffee table would be boarded up. Locked. Waiting for somebody to come in and wipe it all away with a fresh coat of paint and a steam cleaner.
It’ll be like they were never here and Buck’s hands start to shake.
“Oh man…” he hears Eddie from the kitchen, steps getting closer while he’s trying not to hyperventilate. “Do you remember this?” he asks, stepping into Buck’s space and showing him the picture in his hands.
And of course he remembered. It’s the three of them. Christmas time. Christopher had been about 6 or 7, he couldn’t remember. But what he did remember was that it was the same day they’d taken him to see Santa…
“Oh, wow…” Buck said taking the photo and holding it reverently in his hands like it was precious. A gift from a higher being. In this case, he thought it might have been.
“Chris was so enamored by you.” Eddie said. “He thought you were so cool.” Buck elbowed him gently in the side, so lightly that Eddie probably barely felt it.
“I am cool, Eddie.” He nearly whispered.
“You’re alright, I guess.” Eddie retorted playfully.
“I remember…” Buck said, his voice cracking a little. “The elf.”
“The elf?” Eddie replied, quizzically.
“Yeah…” Buck said, still not meeting his eyes, just staring straight at the photograph. “The elf. You-uh…you picked Chris up and carried him over to the uh…the car.” He was struggling, breath hitching. He was sure Eddie had heard it by now. “She just kinda…stepped over to me and uh… She said ‘you two have…an adorable son.’” Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder, fondly stroking his thumb back and forth and Buck is breaking like glass right here in the middle of the living room.
“Well...” Eddie says, smiling intently at the picture in Buck’s hands “We kinda do.”
And he realizes that it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. Eddie probably won’t be here for that. Defnitely won’t be here for Christmas and Buck…
Buck has to get out of there. Right. Fucking. Now.
He hands Eddie the picture back, and stands as straight as he can muster, wipes his face and looks over to the other man, praying to whatever God that’s listening that he won’t meet his eyes.
“There’s some stuff.” Buck grits out, sounding totally normal and not at all like he’s about to start bawling his eyes out negative three seconds ago.
“Stuff?” Eddie asks, brows furrowing in concern at Buck’s sudden shift. He could feel it. Had always been able to.
“Yeah...” Buck replies, trying to double down “At the uh…at the loft. Your stuff. Uh…” he’s fiddling with his hands and backing away. Eddie steps forward, reaches out and Buck flinches like the mere thought of it physically burned him. “You might want it back, y’know?”
“Buck, it can…” Eddie tries, but Buck’s already got his keys in his hand and he’s halfway to the front door, and he’s almost sprinting now trying to get away from him.
“I’ll just go grab it real quick.” Buck said, a suspicious amount of wetness in his voice. “I’ll be back in just a little bit.”
And the front door nearly slams shut before Eddie even has a second to think.
1
He bobs and weaves through traffic, eyes blurred and making aborted sobbing sounds as he makes his way across the city. He shouldn’t be driving. He knows that. It’s a miracle that he gets back to his loft in one piece, throwing open his Jeep door and all but racing up the stairs to his floor. He barely makes it through the threshold of his apartment before he falls to his knees and lets out the most anguished sound he thinks he’s ever made in his life.
Eddie is leaving. Eddie is leaving. And Buck is only a shadow of the man he was five days ago. His every accursed breath was meant to scream to the heavens how much he loved his best friend, and the other man would never hear it. He would never know that he was Buck’s light in the darkness. His soulmate. Because even though Buck was in the most pain he’d ever been in in his entire fucking life, he still wouldn’t do it.
Eddie deserved to have a clean start. He deserved to have his son with him. He deserved every single thing he ever wanted because he was the kindest, most honorable, most steadfast man Buck had ever known and Buck would be goddamned if he would be the reason Eddie was held back. He wouldn’t drag him into this. He just wouldn’t.
So, he picks himself up off the ground...he swipes his sleeve over his face which does absolutely nothing to fix how he knows he must look. He drags himself across the loft, gasping and crying and being generally unintelligible. He finds a box from a package he’d gotten before his entire world blew up in his face so fast that he still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t another coma dream, and trudges upstairs to his room and starts pulling out Eddie’s things and placing them carefully inside. A pair of socks Buck borrowed when his got wet at work and he forgot his backups. A spare toothbrush for the rare occasion that Eddie spent the night over at his loft rather than Buck spending it at the bungalow. A Lego set he’d gotten for Christopher for the Christmas that he wouldn’t be spending with them. And then he found the shirt.
It was old. Worn and threadbare in places. One of the first official LAFD shirts that Eddie had received when he’d started working at the 118. He’d been at the loft after a terrible shift. Buck had lent him a t-shirt and told Eddie he’d wash and return the other one. He hadn’t. It laid here in the drawer lost to time. Perfectly preserved. Buck brought it close, dirtying it once again with his ridiculous tears as he honest-to-God smelled it for any remnant of the man who was holding his heart in his hands and squeezing so hard Buck thought he might die. The faintest hint of smoke and sandalwood permeate through the detergent and Buck falls sideways onto his bed, burying himself even further into the fabric. He curls up in a ball. He ugly-cries until his voice is hoarse and his eyes hurt. He doesn’t hear the door open, or the footsteps climbing up to the loft, or Eddie stepping in front of him to take in the absolute state of things.
That’s why he jumps so hard when Eddie lays his hand on his shoulder accompanied by a quiet:
“Buck?”
Buck moves like he’s been branded, fear and agony shining through the tears streaming down his face. They stare at each other for a moment, neither really knowing what to say. Buck looks down at the shirt in his hands, ‘DIAZ’ clearly written across the back, wet and crumpled and carrying enough sadness to cripple most men. Finally, a cracked and wheezing sound falls out of Buck’s mouth that sounds an awful lot like:
“’m sorry.”
Eddie hastily sits down next to him, both hands reaching out for his wrists while Buck stares down into his lap, trying to compose himself.
“Hey, hey no.” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t think he’s ever heard Eddie sound so gentle. “Don’t apologize. What’s wrong?” His thumbs trace the underside of Buck’s wrists, anywhere that he can feel a pulse, Buck’s noticed. And that makes him feel even more…too much. It’s all too much.
“You’re…” he hiccups, “You’re leaving, Eds.”
“Buck, I…” he starts. But Buck interrupts him.
“No, you’re…” he tears his hands away from Eddie’s to grab onto the shirt like it’s the last thing in the world that could save his sorry life. “You’re leaving…the 118. You’re leaving me. And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it because you need to. You n-need to go and be with your son because you’re literally the b-best…fucking dad, Eds. And I just…I’m trying not to make it all about me…because I should be the very l-last thought in your mind right now. B-But it h-hurts…so m-much. And I don’t f-feel…like I’m enough because I can’t f-fix it. And I just w-wanna f-fix it. Why can’t I f-fix it?” He cries again. Tears he didn’t know he still had in him, coming out in droves.
“Buck…” Eddie says, trying to close the distance between them. His hands find Buck’s face, holding it from each side and it’s everything Buck’s ever wanted and more. He could live off of Eddie’s touch, stay in this moment for the rest of his life, because even though he’s a mess and covered in salt and snot and grime, Eddie’s still here. He’s right next to him. He’s absolutely…everything. And he can’t stop himself in time.
“I’m so in love with you that it hurts…” Buck stutters out. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It just…is. And Eddie doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t lift his hands from Buck’s face like he’s been shocked. Doesn’t stop looking at the broken man in front of him. He just strokes a thumb over Buck’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears. Buck grabs hold of Eddie’s wrists. Please…Never let go.
“When I called Chris the other day…” Eddie starts. Buck tightens his grip. “he asked me if this…was something that I really wanted to do. I told him that…I just needed to be close to him again. I didn’t want to miss these milestones in his life. I’d already felt like I missed so much and he was so much bigger than when he left, and it’s only been three months. And I told him that I’m not missing anything else. That if this was what it took to mend our bridges…that’s what I’d do. And then he told me that I should only do this…if you were okay with it.”
Buck’s eyes fly open at that, zeroing in on Eddie.
“M-me?” Buck askes, bewildered. “Why, me?”
“Because, Evan…” Eddie said, and the last little sliver of hope that Buck was holding onto bloomed fiercely in his chest for the first time in days. “You’re our family. Chris loves you. I love you.” Buck’s lip trembles at the implication. It’s said with so much conviction that his heart starts beating again, no longer laying dead in a puddle of its own misery.
“Eds…I-“
“No.” Eddie stops him, “It’s still my turn.” Buck shuts up, staring into Eddie’s eyes as he entangles his fingers with Buck’s “You were so supportive. So helpful. And I was too busy trying to keep it together that I didn’t notice you falling apart and I’m so, so sorry, Buck.” Eddie lays down to face him, side by side, fingers never leaving Buck’s own. Buck’s heart skips several beats when Eddie brings his hand up to his lips and leaves a featherlight kiss across his knuckles.
“I can’t be the reason you stay, Eddie…” Buck argues, weakly. Even in the face of everything he ever knew he wanted, he couldn’t be selfish and ask that of him.
“We’ll go visit him.” Eddie continues. “Both of us. We’ll go to Texas. I’ll confront my parents. We’ll bring him home…It’s what I should have done in the first place.”
“Do you think he’ll be angry at us?” Buck asks, trepidation leaking in. “at me?” Eddie gives him the softest look he’s ever seen.
“He’d be angrier if he knew I broke your heart.” Eddie replies, “That kid…our kid…he loves you, Buck.”
“Ours…” Buck whispers reverently, as he studies every line in Eddie’s knuckles.
“Yes, Buck.” Eddie answers. “Ours.”
In an instant, Buck is there, pressing himself impossibly closer to the man in front of him, arms snaking around his middle and head buried in his chest. Eddie wraps his own arms around him, One hand in the middle of his back, the other carding through his hair as he places a kiss on the top of Buck’s head. He’s never felt safer in his life.
“We’ll fix it.” Eddie tells him. “Together.”
And Buck believes him.