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Being alone for Christmas is nothing new for Buck.
He’d done it plenty of times during his twenties, spending Christmas nights at parties full of other lonely bodies. During that time, he’d kissed more strangers than he could count and clung on to the fair-weather friends he’d made in attempts to soothe the hurt. It had been enough at the time, it had still been better than what he had in the past.
At the Buckley’s childhood home, Christmas was somehow worse than the strobing lights and sticky floors of the bars. Maddie was the only shining light, bringing decorated stockings and tinsel and decorated trees to their home. She baked cookies on the 25th and filled the house with sweet scents. Beautifully wrapped presents donned the base of the tree, and she fed the excitement Buck had bundled in him each time.
When she left, things changed. His parents didn’t become Grinches, still went through many of the motions, mainly for appearance’s sake. They bought presents for the neighbors and hung lights outside. But inside the home, Christmas was stifled out. Gone were the decorations and the fresh tree—replaced now with a plastic replica. There were no gifts stacked or sweet baked treats. Christmas was just another day where Buck had time off of school.
Buck heard all the time from his peers and adults around him that Christmas lost the magic as you got older so when it happened, he passed it off as exactly that. It wasn’t that Christmas had changed; it was that he had.
It’s what he believed for years…until the 118. Every year, the firehouse became a joyous place—filled to the brim with decorations and mistletoe and Cap baked more than any of them knew what to do with. Spending Christmas on shift had been warm and bright in a way that Buck never knew it could be.
Then Eddie had joined during Buck’s second year at the 118 and even when they didn’t have to work, he had somewhere he was invited—wanted—every December 25th. He baked cookies with Christopher and watched far too many movies and decorated the tree with them and everything felt so right that Buck didn’t know how he made it all his life without it. For six amazing years, he’d had a home and a family and--
Now, that invite wasn’t going to come because the Diaz boys were celebrating with their family in El Paso. Eddie had been keeping him updated with pictures and text messages, showcasing the decorations and the tree and he’d even wrangled Chris into taking a family photo that had forced tears into Buck’s eyes. Christopher looked so much bigger now, so far away from the boy he’d known.
How long would it be before the updates stopped and he became someone they used to know?
He couldn’t help himself from breaking in—was it breaking in if he still had the key and the house technically still belonged to Eddie?—to the vacant Diaz home.
The loft had felt too lonely, too silent and cold on a good day, to spend this holiday. He had cleaned every square inch and baking more than he knew what to do with.
Maddie and Chimney had invited him to their celebrations, just as Bobby and Hen had, but he couldn’t bring himself to intrude where he didn’t belong. Because even though he loved them with all of his heart, spending time with a family that was not his to keep felt more heart-wrenching than being alone.
So, he’d chosen to go to the only place that ever felt like a home.
He’d brought decorations and ingredients to cook, like it could convince his mind that he wasn’t really alone. Hung the lights and the stockings on the wall and cooked a meal for himself, all while playing Christmas music loud enough that he couldn’t hear himself think. In the moment, it was easy enough to convince himself that maybe he was just setting up for his boys to come home.
But when it was all done, standing in the kitchen while “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” played off his phone, all he felt was hallow. Tears spring to his eyes, finally tired of being pent up inside, and a gasp cuts out of him at the sudden attack.
He was alone.
More tears flood out of him as harsh breaths fight to make it to his lungs. He feels vaguely like he might be suffocating. Wouldn’t that be perfectly ironic, if he died here in his favorite place on the supposed happiest day of the year?
Was it always going to be this way? Buck haunting the places where he’d once felt loved? Forever grasping at the reminders of the people who swore they’d never leave?
He lowers himself to press his back into the wall, no longer having the energy to keep himself upright. More sobs shake his shoulders and he’s thankful that no one is around to see him.
However, apparently, the universe likes to laugh at him, because it’s this exact moment that he hears the doorknob turn, keys jangling. He freezes—who would be here right now?
Soft voices trickle in through the door, the porch light causing the figures to be draped in shadow. “Doubt he’s here but…” someone is saying as they push their way in.
There’s gotta be a lot of them, maybe 5 or 6, and Buck panics, eyes darting around the now darkened room—light from the tree providing only a dim comfort. There had to be something he could defend himself with, right?
His eyes settle on the frying pan on top of the stove. He’d been waiting for it to cool so he could wash it but now…now it might be his only defense. He has knives but he doesn’t think he could take out 5 people of unknown size and strength with a kitchen knife.
Buck works himself off the floor, grabbing the pan and heading to the door of the kitchen, waiting and listening.
“I’ll check the kitchen” Another voice says and then there’s footsteps moving toward him.
His heart is pounding in his chest in terror. Maybe he could take out the one quietly and get to his phone in the dining room to call 9-1-1.
Honestly, what’s the point of breaking in here? Eddie had taken most of his belongings—especially the ones worth anything—when he moved and all Buck had here was some cheap Christmas décor that one could find at the dollar tree.
Whoever it was had to be someone that knew Eddie’s schedule, though, not well enough to know that he wasn’t in L.A. anymore. A neighbor, maybe? Maybe someone from the station, even though the thought of someone so insidious being in his safe place felt like a stab of betrayal. Or maybe they were someone he knew, who knew that Eddie’s house would be vacant tonight. His gut twists as he files through possibilities and can’t fit anyone he knows to this act.
The kitchen door pushes open, nearly hitting Buck in the face, and he breathes in deeply before lunging for them from behind. The two of them topple to the ground loudly—so much for taking him out quietly—and Buck struggles to come up on top, using his body weight to hold the other man down and holding down his wrists to keep him from reaching for any weapons. He holds the frying pan up in a threatening stance, ready to fight if the other decided to struggle.
“What the--?” The man yells out and Buck…
Buck blinks.
Was he dreaming? Was this some sort of deranged nightmare?
“Eddie?” Breath escapes him as Eddie pants beneath him, a bewildered look on his face.
“Buck!” Eddie exclaims, a plea in his eyes, “Buck, it’s me! Eddie!”
Buck drops the pan immediately.
Was this what a mental break felt like? He’d spoken to patients who entered psychosis before and had always noted that they seemed so far from reality. There was no way that he--He, of course, couldn’t count that out, though. Not 5 minutes ago, he’d been sobbing on the kitchen floor of his best friend’s abandoned home after breaking in like a psychopath.
He doesn’t move from his position, still pinning the-maybe-there Eddie’s hands to the floor above his head. Eddie’s not moving either, but the wild, panicked look has begun to subside.
“Buck, look at me.” Eddie tries again and Buck is looking at him. But he can’t be here, Buck’s mind is clearly broken, and something is wrong and there’s an intruder in this house—5 of them—and he needs to protect—
There’s nothing to even protect anymore. All of it had been packaged away and shipped to El Paso. Buck isn’t even sure his heart is here, maybe it had slipped into one of those boxes while they rushed the packing job. There was nothing here to protect.
“Buck?!” Maddie’s voice is shrill with alarm behind him and oh, he’s really gone now.
“You’re okay” Another person places a hand on his shoulder but he can’t break his eye contact with Eddie. The shadow’s voice sounds like Chimney and he has to shake his head.
He’s running through every possible diagnosis that he can remember reading—maybe schizophrenia? Onset was usually around his age, right? And triggers—like losing the most important person in his life—were known to cause radical changes in patients.
“Buck,” Maddie’s at his side now, “Buck, you have to let him go.”
Let him go. Isn’t that what he’d been doing? Being a good friend, supportive as hell even, sitting beside him as he picked out a new house, found a new job—a new community, hadn’t he been letting him go?
He still can’t force himself into action, not even with Maddie’s hand over his own or with the Chimney shaped shadow behind him.
“Buck?”
It feels like his mind is breaking, splitting into fragments all around the kitchen floor.
Because Chris isn’t here—that much he knows for certain. Eddie couldn’t be lying beneath him and Chris couldn’t be staring at him from the kitchen door.
“Chris?” Buck is helpless to stop the name from leaving his lips. He finds his grip loosening on not-Eddie’s wrists as he stares at the boy. He’s grown—he knew that already from the pictures, but seeing it in person hits him all over again.
“Buck, what’re you doing?” Chris asks, frozen in the doorway with terror painted across his face. And that gets him moving, slipping off of Eddie’s frame and hunching in on himself.
Even in his fractured mental status, the thought of hurting Christopher is the most heartwrenching site.
“I—” Eddie is sitting up, rubbing at his wrists and watching Buck with careful eyes. “I—no—”
“Evan,” Maddie whispers, “You’re okay”
“Am—Am I going crazy?” He asks quietly, dreading the answer. Maddie’s hand just grips his tighter as she moves to hug him.
“No, you’re not going crazy” she reassures, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not.”
He flicks his eyes between the two Diazes as Eddie stands up and moves toward his son, whispering something comforting that the younger boy nods at. Then, Chris is moving toward him.
His heart pounds, threatening to break out of his skin. “Buck”
It’s impossible to stop the tears as they rush to his eyes, the flood immediately breaking through the dam he’d so carefully constructed. “Chris.” Even if this isn’t real, Buck can’t turn down the chance to hug the boy. He moves to sit on his knees and wraps the boy up without a second thought.
Chris groans at the contact but Buck can’t deny the feeling of Chris’s hands wrapping around his back. “I’ll give you a pass…this time…” It’s such a moody teenager thing to say that Buck can only laugh, pulling him closer. “But don’t push it”
“This is…real? I’m not--?” He looks past Christopher’s shoulder to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie stares down at him with such fondness and smiles.
“Merry Christmas, Buck” Christopher whispers.
There’s no stopping it as the sobs begin to wrack his body, instantly stealing his breath from his lungs. He feels someone nudge Christopher out of his arms and gasps at the loss before another strong grip is embracing him, tucking his head into the cave of their neck.
He’s washed over by the scent of Eddie’s conditioner and the cologne he loves so much. Firm arms press against him like they’re trying to keep him together, even as Buck’s body threatens to rip in half from the force of his emotions. Eddie whispers softly into his ear, quiet reassurances that don’t fully register as the world blurs into one. Nothing matters as much as Eddie being here, as Chris being here.
When he finally pulls himself away, he’s met with chocolate brown eyes, swimming with concern. Then, over his shoulder, his sister and brother-in-law with Jee-Yun and Christopher pulled into their sides. A glance to the side shows Bobby, Hen, and Athena waiting patiently, watching them.
“You guys—what are you all doing here?”
“You didn’t think we were gonna let you celebrate Christmas all by yourself, did you?” Athena asks lightheartedly and Bobby chuckles.
“But—” His eyes meet back with Eddie’s doubtfully.
“When I stopped by the loft and found it empty, I thought you were with one of them…imagine my surprise when none of them knew where you were.” Eddie fixes him with a look only he could get away with.
Buck shrugs, “Didn’t want to intrude”
Around them, he hears multiple squawks of disapproval, but Eddie silences them all quickly by saying, “Only you would make me drive all over L.A. after a 12 hour drive just to find you in my house.”
Panic and confusion have begun to bleed out into exhaustion that is starting crawl up Buck’s spine, sinking him further into Eddie’s grip. “…felt like home.”
Eddie clutches him closer before whispering, “you are home. We all are.”
Eventually, they will make their way off the hard tile floor. Bobby will start cooking, commenting on the meal Buck had prepared. Hen will inform them that Karen and the kids are on their way from her place before pulling him into a hug, whispering that she loves him. Athena will pass him a bottle of wine and remind him that she wouldn't celebrate the holiday without her children. May and Harry will call them to wish them a merry Christmas with apologies that they couldn't celebrate together. Albert and Ravi will arrive—looking disheveled in a way that they will be addressing in the future. Maddie and Chim will pull Buck to the side to have a serious heart-to-heart about why he would turn down their invitation because he is family and he would never be a burden—and Buck will try to tuck the conversation into his heart to remember later.
Much later, though, when Buck sits around Eddie’s table and watches his family laugh and talk and celebrate, Buck thinks he might be ready to believe it. Especially when he feels Eddie’s hand tuck into his own, giving it a firm squeeze, and he looks up at the other man to find love and comfort and home.
“Merry Christmas, Buck.” Eddie whispers. “Welcome home.”