[fic] inventing June 3/6
Apr. 20th, 2025 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pairofraggedclawsHe’s been waiting for this moment. Planning for it. The moment he and Shannon could finally talk it all out – though, if he’s being honest, Eddie’s got only the barest bones sketched out of what he wants to say. It’s always been more of a montage in his mind.
The montage has never included sneaking someone out the back before Shannon came in. Eddie’s not even sure the sneaking worked, and he’s sweaty and on-edge like he’s about to get in trouble.
Eddie grips the edge of his kitchen sink, staring at nothing at all. He came in here ostensibly to get some water, and that excuse ran over its time limit about five minutes ago. With a sucking breath, he manages to take his hands off the sink’s edge, painfully stiff from gripping the porcelain as hard as he could.
When he finally comes back out with the water, his face scrubbed clean with a damp dishtowel, Shannon does not look impressed. He sits next to her, putting the glasses on the coffee table.
“There you are. I was starting to think you enlisted again,” she says, and he actually physically flinches. “That was a joke.”
“Right,” he says, and his voice gets dragged out of him, dusty, something that’s been buried in an attic for years.
“Please stop looking at me like I’m gonna snap your neck,” Shannon laughs. She pushes her hair neatly back over her shoulders: down to business. “You caught me off guard when we ran into each other. I’m a little more prepared now.”
“Everything you said was true,” Eddie says.
The light pressure of her gaze flits over him. There’s something distant about her eyes. It’s like she’s looking at a stranger.
“Yes,” she says. “And maybe we’ll talk about all of it. Someday.”
“Someday.”
She’s careful, measured with every word. She lays her hands on her knees, palms down. “Right now I’d rather talk about Christopher.” In her mouth, Christopher’s name becomes something precious; painfully so.
Eddie gets a dream-flash: him, Shannon, Christopher in this house. Sun is shining through the blinds, and Christopher is laughing.
“Can I just say one thing?” Shannon gives him a look, but nods. “We took a break, yeah, but we never made anything final, and...I know neither of us are ready, Shan, but I’d really like it if – life’s so sweet, Shannon, when it’s with the right people. When it’s with your family. We could have that again.” He takes her hand impulsively. She’s unreadable, and Eddie is sweating again. Cold sweat.
(He can still see Buck glaring at him. He can still see Buck smiling at him. He can still feel Buck’s lips on his neck.)
Slowly, Shannon’s hand clasps his, and he gets an electric pulse through his body; it’s happening, here, now, yes – but it’s for a sympathetic squeeze, right before she takes her hand back.
“Eddie,” is all she says, and he can’t look at her. The cloying curl of pity in her voice, the shame spiking through him. He can’t look at her.
“Shannon, we could be a family again,” he says, his voice refusing to go above a quiet hoarseness.
She smiles, her eyes downcast, her hands folded into each other. “I’m in a relationship. It’s getting serious, I think.”
Shannon and Christopher and Eddie, in the kitchen, with sun streaming over the plates on the table, and Shannon is smiling at him.
“Oh.”
“I know we’re just separated,” she says, “but I think we should get divorced. I think it’s time.”
Eddie can’t hear for a moment after that. When he tunes back in, Shannon is still talking. “ –wasn’t going to bring it up right away, but. Look.” And now she holds his hand, and he grips her hand back desperately. “I just think it’s for the best. We were always better together when we weren’t...together.”
“I just always thought,” Eddie says, and he can’t finish that sentence, not for love or money.
“I know,” Shannon says. “I’m sorry.” She blows out a tense breath. “I’m...honestly surprised you still did. It’s not like you’ve been waiting for me.”
“I have,” he says, only a little bitterly. When she laughs, that gorgeous husky laugh of hers, it surprises him enough that he smiles.
“Oh, really,” she says. “So I didn’t see some hunk sneaking out the back?”
“Uh - “ Eddie trips over his own tongue, turning red like a switch got flipped. “He wasn’t sneaking – and it’s really, it wasn’t...”
Shannon giggles, covering her mouth, and it’s contagious despite the way he feels kind of like someone’s taken a tire iron to his heart.
“Seriously,” Eddie says, mouth twitching. “It’s not – “
“Eddie!” she laughs. “He left with his pants undone and you are covered in hickies. Covered!”
“He – “ Eddie says, and breaks down laughing. “I – “
“Just stop it,” she says. “You’re such a terrible liar, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
Eddie’s laughter dies in his throat, and he just looks at her, this woman he’s known since they were both just kids, loved for nearly as long, and he can’t speak. Her eyes are a little shiny, looking back.
He clears his throat and looks away. “Christopher, I know he’ll want to see you. But I need to know you’re back to stay. It was hard enough for him to lose you once.”
“I want to be back to stay,” she says. “I want to be in his life.”
“Okay.” Eddie doesn’t say, but not in mine. Divorce, that ugly clunker of a word. Being married with a kid at eighteen was one thing – but Eddie never thought he would be someone who would get divorced. A divorced dad, that’s about to be him, and he has to push that thought away because it brings a wave of nausea with it. Fuck, he’s gonna have to tell his parents at some point. “Um, maybe we could talk more? And we can figure out a day for him to stay with you, maybe.”
“Yeah,” she says. She’s already standing, moving towards the door. “Text me, okay?” Shannon pauses by the door. “But can you send me a picture of him? Something recent?”
“Of course,” Eddie says. “Of course, Shan.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and then she’s gone.
It took fifteen minutes for everything he thought his future would be to melt away like mist. Like always, Eddie’s left looking back through the years at his long list of mistakes; but he can’t reach back and fix it. And he can’t change what’s happened today. Shannon’s walking away, and Eddie’s life walks away with her.
He sits in his empty house and he texts Shannon about seeing Christopher, and about a school he’s been looking into with Carla’s help. She doesn’t respond. Eddie texts Buck. He doesn’t respond either.
That night in bed, looking at seven unanswered texts to Buck, Eddie pretty much wants to have a screaming tantrum like a three-year-old.
He’d just like to get a response from Buck. Nothing huge, just something. That’s all. Something outrageously flirty but somehow still sweet. Something to make Eddie smile and roll his eyes at the same time.
Buck doesn’t respond and doesn’t respond, and Eddie goes to sleep with his arms wrapped around himself.
At work, he corners Buck by the coffee pot. Dirty pool, like staking out a watering hole in the desert. Eddie doesn’t care.
“We’ve been separated, we’re getting a divorce.” That word. Eddie swallows hard so he can keep talking. “If we were gonna get back together, I would have told you about her. I – I – I – “
“Stop,” Buck interrupts, mercifully. “Just – stop. I get it, okay?”
That’s what Buck says, but still, he looks at Eddie differently. But he doesn’t say anything else, confront him, get angry with him. It’s driving Eddie insane. What’s more, Eddie’s heart is bruised and battered in his chest, and he thinks it would be really nice to talk to Buck about Shannon and how she turned him down. Buck would find a way to make him feel a little bit less destroyed, get him laughing.
The crew goes to the cafe on Sunset and gets mimosas. This, at some point, became a tradition after shift, when everyone has the time and energy to spare. There’s a look Buck has when he’s tired, face rough with stubble, his body loose and easy. Bags under his eyes but still laughing at whatever Hen is saying. Eddie can’t actually hear her, since Buck took the furthest possible seat from him.
Eddie doesn’t mean to watch Buck the way he is, but he can’t stop. And he doesn’t mean to follow him when he walks away to take a phone call, but he does. And a minute later when Buck concludes the call, he doesn’t mean to kiss Buck against the brick wall of the alleyway, but he does, he does, he does.
“Eddie, stop,” Buck says, pushing him away, an implacable shove that is not exactly gentle. “What are you doing?”
Eddie shakes his head, mouth tight. Buck looks small, drawn into himself, and his eyes are huge and wounded.
“Sorry, but I don’t really feel like being your...whatever this is.” Not a glance at Eddie before he goes.
Eddie stands there alone, trying to breathe. He is not going to cry, for Christ's sake. What is wrong with him.
“I don’t want things to be like this,” Eddie offers quietly on their next shift, each with their tea in the quiet loft. Truth be told, Eddie doesn’t really like tea. It’s kind of like the world’s stupidest peace offering, following Buck’s beverage preferences.
“Right.” Buck doesn’t stop reading, one of Hen’s mystery novels she’s always leaving everywhere.
Eddie scoffs a laugh. “Okay.”
Blue eyes look at him over the book. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not mad,” Eddie says with a mulish shrug.
Buck smiles with no mirth, says, “Let me ask you something.”
“Thought you didn’t wanna talk about it,” Eddie says, incapable of not digging himself deeper.
“I don’t,” Buck says. “You do.”
“I just want things to go back to normal,” Eddie says.
Buck dog-ears his page. It could be a good sign; it feels like a bad sign. “Are you and Shannon getting back together?”
“No. I told you that.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hard, to block out the throb of pain in his heart. It’s still hitting him, wave after wave after wave, that the future he’s been banking on is gone. Killed dead.
“Did you ask her to?”
Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, shrugs. “She’s in a relationship.”
“Not what I asked.” Buck shakes his head. “You did, right? You asked her, and she said no. That’s the only reason you’re all over me again. Because I, I’m your fall-back plan.” With those last words, the anger falls away from Buck’s face, and he looks at Eddie like he sees through him, right to the rotten core of him. “I’m just – something to pass the time. But I don’t matter to you.”
There’s a feeling like dread in Eddie’s belly, heavy as stone and ice-cold. He’s trying to shake his head, but it comes out only as a twitch because how – how can Buck think he doesn’t matter to Eddie? Eddie would be hard pressed to think of many people who matter more than Buck. “That’s not. No. We were, it was casual. Obviously if Shannon and I had gotten back together, I would’ve told you.”
“Casual. Right,” Buck says, like it costs him something to say it. “Look, I’m not some stranger in a bar anymore, Eddie, we’re supposed to be friends. God, I thought we – ” And Buck cuts himself off there. He turns one way, then the other, like he’s pacing on the spot, and he’s running a hand furiously over his face. Eddie’s never seen him like this before.
“I know you’re not a stranger, Buck,” Eddie says, trying unsuccessfully to catch Buck’s eyes. “But this was about my family and – and it just didn’t involve you. Okay?”
“Didn’t involve me?” Buck looks like he might laugh, or cry, or maybe like he’s gonna punch Eddie in the mouth, but he just stands up, slapping the book down on the coffee table. “You know what, good – good luck with that. I’m gonna go get some sleep.”
Buck has a hickey; Eddie sees it when he turns to go, his uniform shirt unbuttoned more than usual. It didn’t come from Eddie’s mouth. Eddie doesn’t know who Buck got it from.
“Normally I try to know as little as possible about this kind of thing,” Chimney says, during the next shift. Buck isn’t there for some reason. It’s better in terms of atmosphere, but also, Buck isn’t there, so it’s worse. “But I have to ask, what is going on with you and Buck?”
“Nothing,” Eddie tells him.
Chimney raises his eyebrows. “Convincing. Especially when you two have been ignoring each other all week.”
“So what?” Eddie says.
“So normally you’re joined at the hip? Wait, I’m sorry, is it opposite week and I should pretend this all makes sense?”
Nothing makes sense. Everything sucks. Eddie can’t live like this, he has to figure out some way – there has to be a way for things to get back to normal.
Eddie thinks about that all through shift; thinks about it after shift, on the way home, showering, changing into clean clothes. Maybe, yeah, maybe Eddie’s been thinking of Buck a little bit as that handsome stranger sitting one bar stool over, the one from another world where Eddie is free, and young, and adventurous, and not this sad fucking excuse of a person.
His phone lights up with a call, and Eddie gratefully picks up, lets the thoughts he’s weaving together fall away into threads.
“Bobby, hey, what’s up?”
“Can I ask a favor?” Bobby says.
“Of course, Cap,” Eddie says, crossing his fingers that he’s not gonna get asked to cover someone’s shift.
“If you have time, can you check in on Buck?” Bobby says, sounded faded with tiredness. “I hate to bother you, I’m just worried, with everything that happened today. He says he’s fine, but you know Buck.”
“Just tell me where he is, Bobby,” Eddie says, tapping out a quick, flustered text to Carla, who responds with a series of question marks and reminds him that Christopher’s with Pepa today already. He’s halfway to the hospital before he thinks to wonder what happened to make Bobby so concerned.
He’s at L.A. General. Eddie finds him sitting on the floor in a quiet hallway, staring shellshocked at the opposite wall.
“Buck,” Eddie says, letting out a long breath.
“Ed–Eddie?” Buck looks vaguely at him. “Why are you here?”
Slowly, Eddie sits down on the floor next to Buck. “Bobby was worried.”
“Oh.” Buck picks at a seam on his jacket sleeve.
Eddie sucks in air. “Is that blood?” Smudges of flaking red on his hands, on the front of his jacket and shirt, even some on his neck; but Eddie can’t see any injuries on him.
“Yeah,” Buck says. He laughs in a horribly dead way. “I’m fine. You can tell Bobby you checked on me. Just go.”
“Buck. No.” Eddie touches Buck’s arm, and Buck doesn’t react at all. Meanwhile, Eddie’s got a sensation like fizzing carbonation running from his hand on Buck’s arm straight into his bloodstream. He ignores it. “What happened?”
Buck’s eyes are grey under the flickering lights. “My sister’s piece of shit husband finally found her. He tried – he tried to kill her. She had to – you know. In self defense. At least he can’t come after her again.”
“What?” Eddie grips Buck’s arm hard. “Buck, oh my God.”
“They said she’ll be okay,” Buck says. “How – how can she be okay? A–after that?” He looks desperate and impossibly young.
“I don’t know,” Eddie says. He bites his lip. “Are you okay?”
“I thought she was dead,” Buck says in answer. Before Eddie knows what he’s doing, he’s clasping Buck’s hand in his own, palm to palm; he braces for Buck to pull away, but when Buck’s hand moves, it’s just to squeeze Eddie’s tight. Eddie’s pulse is racing.
“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Eddie says. They’re turned towards each other a little, now, laced hands in the space between them.
A hint of a smile crosses Buck’s face. “Maddie.”
“Maddie?” Eddie says, half to himself. He’s definitely heard that name. “Look, Bobby said I should tell you they’re not gonna allow any visitors until tomorrow. You should go home for now.”
Buck is close to tears, face crumpling. “I can’t – I can’t go back there alone. She should be there, and I just start thinking she’s – “ He hides behind his free hand so Eddie can barely see his face at all.
“Okay,” Eddie says, and squeezes Buck’s hand. “Okay. I get it. But they won’t let you see her, you can’t check on her until tomorrow.”
“I don’t wanna be alone there,” Buck says in a choked way, like a little kid who had a bad dream. Eddie’s heart melts like cotton candy.
“Come home with me,” he says. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow, or whenever you want.”
Buck shakes his head, still hidden behind his hand.
“Please,” Eddie says. “So I know you’re okay.”
“Why do you even care?” Buck says with some bitterness.
“I just do,” Eddie says desperately. A moment of quiet, and then Buck nods heavily.
“Can we stop at my place?” Buck says after they’ve been driving a couple minutes. “I need some stuff.”
“Of course,” Eddie says even though the address Buck gives him is fully in the other direction they’ve been going and he has to do a U-turn, which he hates.
Buck throws some clothes and stuff into a backpack, and Eddie tries to be nosy while not looking like he’s being nosy. Somehow he’s just realizing that he has never been to Buck’s place, even with the number of times Buck has been to his. It’s a two-bedroom with ridiculously high ceilings and scratched-up wood floors, and there are pictures everywhere of Buck and presumably Maddie. Some of them are recent, but they go back decades to shots where Maddie is a gawky teen and Buck is a gap–toothed kid. Maddie’s things are everywhere, shoes and a hairbrush and a long, fluffy cardigan that looks well-loved.
They drive in silence for a while before Eddie says, “So. Maddie.”
“Yeah,” Buck says.
“I had no idea you had a sister, let alone that you were living with her,” Eddie says.
Buck actually laughs, haunted but real. “Do I even need to point out the irony here?”
“Nope,” Eddie says quickly. “I’m just...curious, I guess. She seems like a big part of your life.”
Buck is silent for a moment, then says, “I told her she would be safe here. From Doug.” His voice shakes with emotion on the name. “Got her a job at dispatch...and I didn’t introduce her to anyone, I didn’t tell anyone she was here – even you, because she – she begged me not to tell anyone. She was scared. And I, I did it, but I thought she was being paranoid.” His voice breaks.
“You couldn’t have known,” Eddie says. “You didn’t know.”
“She did,” Buck says. “She knew. She was right, and I...if she...if he killed her it would’ve been my fault.” He says it with finality.
They’re pulling in to Eddie’s driveway now. Eddie shuts off the car and turns to Buck.
“It wouldn’t have been,” he says.
“You don’t know that,” Buck says.
“I do,” and Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder, feeling his warmth and presence and the dim shudder of his heartbeat, the undeniable realness of him. “You didn’t do anything to hurt her, you never would. It was his fault, and that’s the beginning and end of it.”
Buck doesn’t look at him, but he gives a jerky nod.
“C’mon,” Eddie says.
Buck pauses at the front door. “Christopher?”
“At Pepa’s,” Eddie says.
Eddie tidies the house while Buck is in the shower, a stupid habit he has whenever even the threat of Buck coming over is afoot. When Buck emerges, Eddie goes to get bedding for the couch, but Buck stops him, catching him by the wrist.
“Eddie,” Buck says, slants a miserable little smile at him. “You know how I – I’m mad at you?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I do.”
“I’m still mad,” Buck says.
“I know,” Eddie says quietly.
“I just wanted to be clear,” Buck says, and kisses Eddie, and Eddie rediscovers the deep, confident way Buck kisses, how he puts his hands on Eddie like he has a right to. God, Eddie’s missed this. But after a moment he gets the thread again and pulls back.
“Buck, what,” he says, eyes closed and not wanting to open, his hand finding the back of Buck’s neck and holding on. It feels right there. Fits.
“If – if you don’t want to,” Buck says, “just – I just want – I don’t want to feel like this, I can’t take it.”
“I want to,” Eddie says, an understatement.
“Then – then please, Eddie, take me to bed.”
Blue eyes watch Eddie as he blinks five times in quick succession, opens his mouth, closes it, rubs a hand over his mouth. Every time they’ve had sex, Buck has been the driving force behind it. It’s not like Eddie’s passive, or some shrinking violet, but Buck makes everything easy for him, a fact that wasn’t apparent to Eddie until here and now, with Buck looking like the light inside him has been snuffed out.
“Okay,” Eddie says. “Okay. Okay.”
His hands have a fine shiver to all their movements, like leaves touched by a breeze almost too light to feel, and he’s looking at Buck and Buck is looking back, something very still in his eyes. Buck shouldn’t look like this; his eyes should spark and snap and have the most life of anything in the room, and he should be laughing at Eddie, kissing him against the wall every two feet, not following Eddie to his room with silent docility.
Eddie sits Buck down on the edge of his bed, and he stands over him, stepping between his legs to kiss him. He holds Buck’s face in his hands and remembers, as a child, holding a friend’s pet bird, a little thing that tilted its head to size him up with one eye. It was light and delicate, something he could crush without even trying. He had never held something that fragile before.
Maybe Eddie should supply the energy that Buck usually brings, confidence and swagger and easy jokes, but that’s not really Eddie’s style. It certainly isn’t right now, not with his heart beating wings against his ribs and knife’s pain twisting in his throat at the look on Buck’s face, something adjacent to destroyed. Eddie pulls Buck’s shirt off and lays him down and strips him slowly, as gently as he can, and he can’t find a word to say.
Eddie crawls between Buck’s legs and kisses his belly and his hip bone and his half–hard cock. He kisses a path down, down, and he can’t get where he wants so he grabs a pillow and gets Buck to lift his hips, looks at him for permission, and when Buck slowly nods he slides the pillow under his hips, spreads Buck’s legs wide.
He kisses the skin of Buck’s inner thighs, velvet-soft over steel muscle, bites, sucks until he leaves a mark. Getting closer until he’s where he wants to be, and he licks over Buck’s hole, slow, lingering, and Buck’s legs relax and splay open even further.
Eddie keeps licking, slow, long licks with no real amount of pressure, and when finally Buck’s fingers tangle in his hair Eddie closes his eyes, both at the feeling, and at having gotten a reaction from him. He gets more direct, circling the rim, then goes back to the slow, soft licks. Buck keeps tightening his grip on Eddie’s hair, then loosening it like he’s scared to hurt him.
Eddie stops for long enough to say, “You can pull my hair, it’s okay.”
Buck makes a rough sound and his fingers twitch in Eddie’s hair before tightening deliberately, slowly, to an extent that leaves Eddie open-mouthed between Buck’s legs, struck dumb by the pain and the way it turns into pleasure. Then Buck is pulling, dragging Eddie’s mouth back to his hole, and Eddie moans desperately at the same time that his lips press into the cleft, and then he can’t stop moaning, greedily kissing, practically making out with Buck’s hole. He’s shamelessly grinding his cock into the rumpled blankets, and it’s, fuck, it’s not enough, but this is about Buck, it’s not about him, and so he doesn’t touch himself, like it’s some kind of penance. He keeps his hands on Buck’s spread thighs and rocks against the bed for the little stimulation he can get.
Buck is groaning, “Oh God, oh my God,” rocking against Eddie’s lips and tongue, and it’s not enough for him. He wants to take Buck out of his head, to wipe away all the sadness and fear and pain if just for now. Eddie can do this.
His hands are grasping at desperately Buck’s thighs, and Buck hasn’t let up on Eddie’s hair for a second, God it feels good, and Eddie points his tongue, panting open–mouthed against Buck, tracing the rim, and finally slipping inside, just with the tip of his tongue but it makes Buck moan. He fucks Buck on his tongue, and Buck is pressing him in so hard he can barely breathe, until finally Eddie has to tug at one of Buck’s hands. Buck releases him immediately, and Eddie collapses a little with his slack mouth panting against Buck’s thigh.
“Sorry, sorry,” Buck rasps, and Eddie gives him an OK sign, catching his breath.
He’s slower when he gets back to it, and sloppy about it. His chin is wet with spit as he moves his mouth against Buck, lips and tongue and panted breath, and he can hear the rhythmic sound of Buck jerking himself off. Buck’s hand lands on his head again, maybe trying to be gentler, but it’s only a minute before Buck’s fingers tighten in his hair. Eddie moans against Buck at the delicious hurt of it, and it must feel good to Buck because he’s arching against Eddie’s mouth. Eddie moans again deliberately (though genuinely) and it makes Buck press against his mouth even harder. Eddie gets his tongue back inside Buck just in time for Buck to come, gasping, his hole shivering around Eddie’s tongue. Eddie’s every exhale brings a sound almost like a sob, garbled with his tongue still thrust inside of Buck, and he shoves a shaky hand down and into his pants for the few cramped strokes it takes to bring himself over the edge.
Buck pulls Eddie away and up even as Eddie shudders his release, and he says, “Ed–Eddie, are you – “
Eddie looks at him, vision hazy, mouth open on a soundless moan, hand still working his cock, and manages to say “Yeah.”
“Jesus fuck,” Buck says, and then Eddie’s being kissed, through the last sparks of his orgasm, through the aftershocks, until Eddie pulls back to collapse onto Buck’s chest.
He sits up a minute later, grabbing some tissues to wipe down his jizz-coated hand. Buck is watching him when Eddie looks at him, his eyes sleepy and liquid. He shakes his head at Eddie, and Eddie looks at him questioningly.
“What?” Eddie says.
Buck goes pensive for a moment, but “Nothing,” is all he says. Eddie searches his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking about, decode the fine points of his facial expression.
“Okay,” Eddie says, and Buck pushes himself up, swaying, to poke Eddie between his eyebrows. “Hey?”
“You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles,” Buck says. He’s smiling in an easy way, but Eddie can’t shake the suspicion that there’s something he’s missing.
“I’ll give you wrinkles,” he says nonsensically, still searching Buck’s expression.
“I think you just did,” Buck says with a wink, and Eddie smiles irresistibly, and the good humor fades off Buck’s face like it didn’t have much of a foothold there. Buck slides into a sitting position. “I’m gonna, uh, gonna get some water.”
“Stay there,” Eddie says, “I’ll get it.” He stands, stretching until his spine pops, and Buck is looking up at him, sideways and a little assessingly.
“You don’t have to,” Buck says. Eddie would like to know why he’s looking at him like that, why his words sound loaded with some meaning Eddie can’t begin to discern. But, well, he’s not sure the answer is one he’d want to hear, and he’s not gonna push it. Not today.
“I know,” Eddie laughs, and he doesn’t think about it before he leans over to kiss Buck. Buck makes a little sound in his throat that extends the kiss by several seconds. When Eddie pulls back, lower back sending up minor distress signals, his face is hot for reasons he can’t even begin to understand. Tongue-tied, he pushes gently on Buck’s shoulder until Buck lies flat again and leaves to get him the water.
Weird as Buck has been acting, Eddie half expects him to leave as soon as he can, is expecting it even though the thought unsettles something in him. He wants to keep Buck close, right now, take care of him. And normally Buck would be the one to flop all over Eddie, wrap around him like an octopus, and it’s just another thing that makes Eddie realize how much more of a coward he is than Buck. He’s back in bed next to Buck, who’s scrolling on his phone, and Eddie’s inching towards him as subtly as he can, like they’re in high school and he’s trying to “accidentally” brush Buck’s hand with his own, and his heart is actually pounding. It’s one step short of pretending to yawn so he can put his arm around Buck, Eddie thinks, and takes a second to sincerely consider trying that.
When Eddie starts paying attention again, coming out of his thoughts, Buck has his eyes closed, using the corner of his phone to massage between his brows.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers, and then he sees the way Buck’s shoulders are shaking. “Hey, hey.” He forgets about subtlety, and being afraid, and he pulls Buck to him. Buck’s breathing, shaky, against his chest, and Eddie folds him into his arms. “It’s okay, baby.”
He rubs Buck’s back, and murmurs to him meaninglessly, and Buck falls asleep like that, held close to Eddie’s chest. Eddie buries his face in Buck’s hair, breathing in the smell of his own shampoo, and is asleep before he even knows it.
Eddie wakes up alone.
“Buck?” he says to the empty room, like Buck’s hiding around a corner. The word hangs in the air, and his room has never felt more still, more empty.
During their next shift, Eddie’s not sure who’s avoiding who.
He focuses on Christopher’s school situation. It gives him a jolt to find out the new school needs to interview both parents, but when he manages to get out the words about to get divorced , it turns out they’re prepared for that. Of course they are, really. They’ll call Shannon, they assure him, to set up an interview and tour for her.
Buck cries at everything, so it’s no surprise seeing him tear up watching a little girl hug her father coming home from war. What surprises Eddie is that he cries too. Actually, after watching the happy family hugging for a moment, Eddie has to mutter “Bathroom,” and slip away for a second.
The school is empty, dim and quiet. He passes by one lit classroom with a solitary teacher grading papers, but everywhere else is deserted. Eventually he finds himself in the gymnasium, sitting on the bleachers and staring at his own hands like they’ve got answers.
It’s like the universe is taunting him, waving everything he wants, everything he thought he’d have again, right in front of his face. Eddie can see it so clearly in his mind’s eye; Christopher running to Shannon, into her arms. Eddie going to them and resting a hand on Christopher’s head, kissing Shannon when she stands, laughing, tears of happiness on her cheeks.
It’s always pretty much stopped there, his image of Shannon coming back. He’s had – flashes, maybe, of what their life together could be. Laughter and sunshine, waking up in bed together, two parents waving to Christopher at drop off...but nothing concrete. It’d been hard to imagine, if he’s honest with himself. They’ve never really been like that; they were just stupid kids until Christopher, and then everything had been about money and disagreements and the long-reaching shadow of Eddie’s parents’ disapproval.
Well, now there’s no reason to imagine it. It was out of reach the entire time.
When he goes home, there’s a text from Shannon; Have you talked to Christopher at all about this?
Eddie doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t want to have this conversation, he wants to tell Christopher his mom is back for real, in both their lives, wants to have Shannon jump out from behind a tree and surprise Christopher, and then – and then they all live happily ever after. At this point, though, he’d rather just not have to think about it. He’d rather just get it over with.
About to , he sends, and finds Christopher in his room, doodling with colored pencils.
“Done with your homework?” he says, and Christopher nods. “Christopher – can I talk to you for a second?”
Christopher gives him a look like he does sometimes, a quick assessing glance that makes him look older than he is. “Okay,” he says.
“I have – good news,” Eddie says, with a smile that feels supremely fake. “About mom.”
Christopher’s still just watching him. After a moment, he says, “Did you talk to her?” Hesitant hope trembles in his voice, and Eddie kind of wants to cry.
“Actually, I saw her, and we talked about her maybe coming to see you. If you’d want that.”
A slow nod, and Eddie exhales, nodding back. “She’s really excited to see you. She misses you so much, Christopher.”
Christopher picks up a colored pencil and scribbles half-heartedly for a moment. Then he says, “Will she go away again?”
“No, tesoro.”
“Will she come live with us?”
Eddie says, “No.” Too flatly, and the word hangs there for a long moment before he can find his way to saying, “She has her own place to live, she’ll stay there and we’ll stay here. But it’s close, okay? She lives close by so we can see her anytime.”
Maybe Eddie expected smiles or tears; he’s not sure. In any case, all he gets is a soft, “Okay,” and then Christopher starts coloring again.
“Okay,” Eddie says. “I’m gonna be making dinner, you come get me if you need anything. Yeah?”
Two days later, Eddie’s watching Shannon hug Christopher, laughing even as tears spill down her cheeks. It shouldn’t hurt so much to see, but here he is, blinking away tears that come not from happiness but from a gut-deep ache.
Eddie spaces out trying not to think about it, and only clues back in when Christopher comes over.
“Daddy, can I stay with Mom tomorrow?” Christopher says, with a megawatt smile.
“Baby, I said I’d talk about it with your dad,” Shannon says indulgently. “You go play and let us talk.”
When Christopher has relocated a bit further away – but still blatantly trying to eavesdrop – Eddie says, “Of course he can, if it’s okay with you.” His voice sounds a little choked, but Shannon kindly doesn’t comment.
“Yeah,” she says, and a huge smile spreads on her face. “Yeah, it’s okay.” She turns and says, “Chris! We’re doing it!”
Christopher laughs and cheers and Eddie watches with a feeling that this is someone else’s life. It must be.
It’s been a minute since he and Buck had their little – reunion or whatever, and the awkwardness has faded with time but still, things are kind of fucked between them.
Eddie comes into work a few minutes early, and when Buck arrives he nods cordially at Eddie, but goes to sit with Hen. When Eddie teases Chimney about something at lunch, Buck laughs, but doesn’t pay any more attention to him. He doesn’t tease Eddie in turn, they don’t play video games, he barely pauses in Eddie’s presence.
It’s like Buck doesn’t see him, or even worse, like he does and Eddie being there or not doesn’t mean very much to him. Eddie’s starting to regress into his preschool self, when his bestest friend chose a different partner for playing pretend and Eddie was left sulking on the sidelines, pretending not to cry. Like sunlight, Buck’s presence is felt by his absence, now that Eddie is in the cold and dark.
Christopher is with Shannon today; Eddie dropped him off before work at Shannon’s apartment, and Eddie won’t see him until after school tomorrow. It’s a good thing, Eddie knows, but it feels strange somehow, and everything with Buck is just adding on to the turmoil, rather than distracting him. On top of that, Bobby’s out, for reasons no one seems to fully understand, and things are kinda off-kilter under Captain Chimney.
“Should I ask why you’re making constant puppy dog eyes at Buck?” Hen asks over a card game.
“I’m not.” Eddie looks at his hand of cards. Garbage, just like the last time he looked.
“Sure, let’s go with that,” she says, her voice very dry, and lays down her cards. “Gin.”
Eddie just can’t win.
They get a call, and Buck smiles vaguely at Eddie as they’re getting their turnouts on, his eyes sliding right past him.
“Go ride with him in the engine. It’ll give you two a chance to talk,” Hen says quietly to him. “You can just jump in with me when we get there.”
“Thanks,” Eddie says without looking at her. He’s still watching Buck.
When he gets in the truck with Buck and the couple firefighters who are filling in – Eddie isn’t really paying attention to who they are – Buck gives him his first reaction of the day, a glance that communicates shock and affront and irritation all at once. Eddie sits across from him. He doesn’t end up saying anything to Buck, doesn’t have time to muster up the nerve, because a few minutes later there’s a flash of light and sound and the whole world shakes.
The next thing Eddie is aware of is that he hurts. He hurts, and he’s cold, and he can’t be in the desert, can he? That can’t be right. But he must be. Fire trucks don’t get shot down; helicopters do.
Reality bleeds back in slow motion. Patter of rain, neon-soaked asphalt, crazed yelling from the guy – the kid who did this. That’s all background, because he can see Buck, not ten feet away, pinned, eyes blank with pain and making horrible, guttural sounds against the pavement. There’s gravel clinging to Buck’s lips, ash on his tongue. He doesn’t appear to notice.
“Buck,” Eddie says, but it comes out as a feeble puff of air. He rolls from his side to his belly and that’s enough to get the kid screaming at him, telling him not to move or they’ll all die. So Eddie doesn’t move, not until the kid turns away again, and then he just army crawls one tiny bit. And again, and again, as much movement as he can get away with.
There’s Bobby’s voice, Eddie doesn’t even try to figure that out, but it gets Buck to open his eyes for the first time in a while. The kid’s not watching Eddie anymore as he drags himself to Buck, still winded and stunned enough that all he can do is touch Buck’s face and mutter in a voice that is loose and drugged-sounding to his own ears, “It’s okay, s’okay, Buck, it’s okay…”
Later, waiting in the hospital, he watches YouTube videos on mute, news footage and shaky recordings from cell phones. They’re mostly of the confrontation between Bobby and the kid, but in the background of some of the videos, he and Buck are visible. Eddie hadn’t known how panicked he looked, like he was begging Buck to be okay instead of comforting him. He hadn’t known he was shaking like a leaf. In the video, Bobby gets the detonator away from the kid, and the rest he does remember.
The way he held Buck’s hand, with Buck’s fingers clamped so painfully tight Eddie had to fight not to pull away. The way Buck screamed and screamed as the 118 tried futilely to lift the truck off him, and the way he screamed when they finally did it successfully and yanked him out. In the video, Eddie clings to Buck’s hand as he’s lifted onto the stretcher, following him to the ambulance on visibly unsteady legs, and when he gets in with Buck Eddie can see his own face for a moment. Eddie puts his phone away.
“I’m – I’m looking for Evan? Evan Buckley?” The question comes from a pretty, tearful woman who’s just come in.
“You’re in the right place,” Chimney says. “Hey, you must be Maddie. C’mon, come sit.”
Buck’s sister. Eddie recognizes her from the photos at Buck’s apartment, now that the dots have been connected for him.
Chimney is talking, introducing everyone. “And that’s Eddie, Buck’s partner in crime.”
Chimney doesn’t mean anything by it; it still sits like a knife between the ribs. Eddie smiles in what he can feel is a dismal way. “Nice to meet you. Buck tells me you’re the best.”
“Not that he’d ever say it to my face,” she says, and her smile is sugar-sweet. Eddie can see Buck in her, and his heart seems to spasm in his chest.
A few minutes later Hen comes over to hug everyone. “I gotta go, guys. Eddie, you need a ride home?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, Christopher’s already taken care of for tonight. I’ll get an Uber in a while.”
“Okay. Keep me updated, I mean it, no matter how small the update is.”
Eddie dozes, the thin kind of sleep unique to waiting rooms and airports, until the doctor comes back.
“Everything went great,” she says. “As well as it could’ve.”
“Oh thank God,” Maddie breathes. “Doctor, do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“You’re welcome to. But I thought you might want to see him first. He should be waking up in the next little while.” She smiles. “I can take all of you back whenever you’re ready.”
Eddie looks around the waiting room: all of them consists of just the three of them. Bobby is probably with the police still.
Maddie paces at the foot of Buck’s bed. Chimney, watching her like he’d like to say something, stands awkwardly. Eddie sags in a chair, watching Buck.
He looks small, there. Pale. He doesn’t look like Buck.
“I never wanted to see him like this again,” Maddie says to herself. Catching Eddie’s questioning glance, she only shakes her head.
Buck’s face scrunches as if in discomfort. An eyebrow raises, then lowers. Eddie, heart in his throat, is on his feet before he knows it. When Buck opens his eyes, he looks hazily at Eddie.
“Eddie?” Buck rasps. “What’re…”
“Hold on,” Eddie says, fumbling for the cup of water on the side table. “Here.”
Buck sips at the water. “You okay?” he says when he’s done drinking.
“Me?” Eddie says. He gives in to the weakness in his legs and sits on the edge of the bed.
“You were. Bleeding,” Buck says.
“Just cuts and bruises, man, I’m fine,” Eddie says, a fault line through his voice. “Goddamn, Buck.”
“Be nice to me,” Buck says. “I’m in the hospital.”
That makes Eddie laugh in a choked way. He finds Buck’s hand and holds it, safe, between both of his. “I’m being nice.”
“It’s like we’re not even in the room,” Maddie says dryly from behind him. Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand, Buck sluggishly squeezing back, and takes his face in for another second (pale, tired, alive) , and then he makes himself get up so Chimney and Maddie can have their turn.
He and Chimney leave not long after that. Eddie lingers outside the room for a moment; it’s hard to leave. Hard to convince himself that Buck is okay.
He’s not trying to eavesdrop. It just happens like that.
“He is so cute,” Maddie says. “I can’t believe I’m just finding out you have such a cute coworker. I am definitely meeting all of them officially, by the way. They seem nice.”
Buck laughs softly. “They’re great. And yeah, he, he, gets that a lot.” Fondness is palpable in Buck’s voice as he continues. “You should see his kid, though.”
That makes Eddie freeze, receding from the door to make sure he won’t be seen.
“Wait, Chimney has a kid?”
“Chimney? I thought you meant – “ Buck cuts himself off and Eddie vibrates with tension.
“Your pretty boy making doe eyes at you?” Maddie laughs. “Of course you did.”
“It’s really not like that,” Buck says, sounding tired.
Eddie gets out of there before he gets caught at the worst moment possible. But he’s glad he heard it, he decides. They’re on the same page, and everything is fine. Eddie was kind of a dick by not filling Buck in on the situation with Shannon, and they’re past that now. Maybe there was some awkwardness after they had sex again. That’s all. The end.
On paper it’s a relief, but Eddie doesn’t feel it yet.
It’s the kind of drive home that Eddie barely remembers, lost in thought, or lost in trying not to get lost in thought. Apparently he drove well enough that he didn’t cause an accident, and that’s all the information he has.
Unlocking the door is a complicated project, that’s how tired he is. He hurts, too, aches all over now that he’s not focused on whether Buck will be okay or not, and he’s grimy with sweat and dirt and blood. He should shower.
Sitting down wins over cleanliness, though, and the next sound he hears is a knock on the door, and he’s blinking awake, stiff as all hell, and apparently it’s morning now, not just technically but full morning.
Shannon is on the other side of the door.
“Hey,” Eddie says, sleepiness falling away. “Everything go okay?”
“It went great,” Shannon says, looking Eddie up and down. “I dropped him off at school a little while ago. Then I remembered this is your day off, and I thought I’d stop by to talk about maybe figuring out a regular schedule? That was before I realized you went through an actual meat grinder.”
“Wh – oh. I’m fine, just.” He gestures for her to come in. They sit on the couch together, as far apart as it allows, a polite but not unfriendly distance. “Work was a little crazy last night. There was a bomb, um. Yeah.”
“Oh my God, that was you guys?” Shannon says. “I caught a little on the news after Chris went to bed, but I never thought…”
“Yeah, everyone’s okay, but yeah. I just got back from the hospital a few hours ago, fell asleep before I could clean up.”
“The hospital?” she says.
“Buck,” Eddie says. He discovers that he can’t go on. Choking on his words like he’s just realized it actually happened.
“Is that your, uh,” Shannon makes a vague gesture. “Man–friend?”
“He’s just…” Eddie looks away, swallowing. “He’s just Buck.”
“Is he okay?” Shannon’s eyes are huge and lovely. Eddie wants to bury his head in her lap and have her tell him it’ll be alright.
“Yeah. Got a lot of PT in his future, but he’s gonna be okay.”
But he might not have been. He could have died angry with Eddie; that could have been the way they left things, permanently.
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek hard, focusing on the pain. “You wanted to talk about a schedule?”
She nods. “I’d love to see him regularly. Have days with him. I just...I want to make sure I’m doing what I can handle. Maybe just a regular weekend every month for now?”
“Sure, Shan.” How strange, to be talking about shared custody, to be planning for a future where they aren’t under the same roof. Shannon is already making moves to stand and go, relieved smile flickering on her face.
Eddie walks her to the door. When he reaches for the knob to open it for her, she hisses sympathetically. “That looks bad.”
He looks at his hand on the knob. Bruised into his skin is the shape of Buck’s fingers.
He goes back to the hospital in the early afternoon. Bobby’s already there by Buck’s bedside, rosary in hand. Eddie’s hand twitches, fingers feeling phantom sensations like he’s praying the decades himself, and he turns around in the door to leave.
“Eddie,” Bobby calls softly, and Eddie has to stop.
“Hey, Cap,” he says, turning back. “Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt.” Bobby’s giving him a warm, kind look that’s making irritation skitter across Eddie’s skin. “I can’t stay,” Eddie lies. “Just wanted to drop in for a second.”
“Go ahead,” Bobby says. “You’re not interrupting at all. Actually – would you be willing to stay for maybe ten minutes? I wanted to grab some coffee, but...I know it’s silly, but I just don’t want to leave him alone.”
“Sure, of course,” Eddie says. Bobby smiles and stands and slips the rosary into his pocket. On his way past, he clasps Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie has to use force to make himself smile tightly. There’s something wrong with him, Bobby is being perfectly nice.
Bobby leaves, and Eddie looks at Buck for the first time, asleep in his bed. Buck looks healthier than yesterday; cleaner, for one, but he still looks wrong. Eddie checks – Bobby is really gone, no one else is nearby – and then he sits on the edge of Buck’s bed. He picks up Buck’s hand, gently, and holds it between his palms. Holding it turns to petting it, and then Eddie’s kissing the back of Buck’s hand and his fingers. Eddie’s throat is tight, and he can’t stop doing it; and then he looks at Buck’s face and finds himself leaning closer to kiss Buck on the forehead. Finally he just rests his own forehead against Buck’s and stays there.
Something is wrong with Eddie; his body’s coming apart, shaking to pieces, even though he can’t fall apart, not here, not now. Buck’s fine. Everything is fine.
But Buck could have died.
Eddie chokes and realizes – he’s about to cry. Stumbling up to his feet, he backs away from Buck, turning to face the window to try and get his composure back.
“Sorry I took so long,” Bobby says, and Eddie tries to take a solid breath.
“It’s fine,” he says, still facing away, sounding congested. He takes out his phone, stalling, opening the weather app at random.
“If you want, I can give you some more time alone with him,” Bobby says. Yeah, Eddie wants. He’d sit in this room all day, honestly, but the baldness of saying that is too much after the day he’s had.
“No, I’m good,” he says, and wipes his eyes, turning around and looking at the floor so he doesn’t have to see Bobby see his face. “I have to go. Um, see you at work.”
“Okay,” Bobby says, cautious like Eddie is a frightened animal. “Well. I’ll be around, if you need to talk.”
Eddie does not want to talk.
He drives to Christopher’s school under the speed limit, silent the whole way. Movement feels like it costs him. Eddie sits in the truck and stares at nothing, and then finally gets out.
“Christopher,” he calls, dragging out a smile for his son.
“Daddy!” Christopher calls back, and okay, that pulls a real smile out of him. Christopher looks up at Eddie quizzically. “Are you tired?”
“Kinda, why?” Eddie says.
“Your eyes are all red,” Christopher says.
“Oh. Yeah, I’m tired.” He wants to rub at his eyes; he doesn’t. “Work got a little crazy yesterday.”
“Why?” Okay, Eddie didn’t really think that distraction through.
“Well. One of the fire trucks got in an accident, and some people got hurt. I got a tiny bit hurt, but I’m okay.”
“Who else got hurt?” Christopher’s voice is getting softer and softer. “Your friends from work?”
Shit, fuck, shitfuck. Eddie gets down on one knee, proposal style. “Hen and Chimney – remember them? They got a tiny bit hurt, like me. Buck got a little more hurt, but he’s gonna be completely okay. He is okay. He just needs to heal for a while.”
Christopher says immediately, “Can we go see him?”
“Uh.” Eddie swallows. “Yeah, I think we can. Tomorrow, maybe?”
“It’s still visiting hours,” Christopher says, because of course he remembers that from his various hospital stays.
“Yeah...that’s true,” Eddie says, hedging.
“Please can we? Please, Daddy?”
“I,” Eddie says, and sighs as subtly as he can. Maybe Bobby will be gone, or will have short term memory loss. “Okay, yeah. He might be asleep, though.”
“Obviously,” Christopher says, like Eddie’s stupid.
Bobby is still there, of course, it’s been barely more than an hour. Eddie nods hello and doesn’t let him catch his eyes. Buck’s awake now. Hopefully that’s a recent phenomenon and he didn’t get woken by Eddie doing – all that, before.
“Hey!” Buck says with way more energy than he should have. “If it isn’t Christopher Diaz!”
“And my dad’s here too,” Christopher informs Buck.
“Oh, right, I guess he’s here too,” Buck says in an exaggeratedly blasé tone that makes Christopher giggle. “Go talk to Bobby, Eddie, Christopher and I need to catch up.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Christopher says.
Eddie sits in the chair next to Bobby and listens to Buck and Christopher talk. Buck knows just how to talk to Christopher, or maybe he just genuinely shares many of the same interests as an eight year old, Eddie actually cannot tell. Over the years, Eddie’s seen a lot of people talk to Christopher at half speed, double volume, or not at all, like he’s a piece of furniture. Buck just talks to him like a person.
Bobby doesn’t leave, and it’s embarrassing after the way Eddie ran out of here earlier, but he’s not seething about it anymore. Eddie’s got zero clue what that was. They sit, and Bobby doesn’t say anything until Christopher’s pulled out his homework and started doing it using Buck’s chest as a writing surface.
“He’s gonna be okay, Eddie,” Bobby says quietly. “He really is.”
Eddie nods, looking at his feet. “Does he know when he can come back to work?”
Bobby’s quiet, and then he says, “We’ll see.”
“I’m hungry,” Christopher says a little while later.
“Okay,” Eddie says, rousing from a half-doze. “It’s probably time to go home, anyway. Do you want to grab something while we’re here, or can you wait until we get home?”
“I’m really hungry,” Christopher tells him.
Bobby chuckles. “Tell you what, I’m a little peckish too, I can run down to the cafeteria with him if you wanna relax a few more minutes.”
Eddie accidentally makes eye contact, big oops. Bobby looks knowing and fond at the same time, and Eddie squirms without fully understanding why. “Uh. Sure, Bobby, thanks.”
He busies himself with putting Christopher’s things away. “How are you, really? Bobby said you’re healing okay, but…”
Buck snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure he thinks that.” He’s flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, and his voice is astonishingly bitter.
“What does that mean,” Eddie says.
Buck sighs. He’s got a coiled-tight energy emanating from him, like he’d be pacing furiously if he could. “They’re not sure if I’ll w-work again. Bobby said maybe that’s for the best, maybe I’d be safer if…”
Eddie zips Christopher’s backpack and sits slowly on the edge of Buck’s bed. “I’m sure he’s just worried about you. He wants you to get better, we all do.”
“He meant it,” Buck says. Stony set to his jaw that tells Eddie not to argue.
“Look. Working, as far as your recovery – who knows, but you’ll still be part of the LAFD. Talk to the union rep, you’ll figure something out.”
“Union rep?” Buck repeats, blinking at him. Of course, Buck just learned what he needed to do the job, probably has no clue about anything beyond that. Eddie kills a laugh before it can form.
“Okay,” he says, preparing to explain the basic concept of a union to Buck.
After that – it’s a few weeks, and Buck comes back to work. Light duty, first on crutches, then a brace, then nothing. He’s not around nearly as much. When his 9-5 hours overlap with a shift, Eddie gives him shit, Buck laughs at Eddie, and everything’s fine. They’re fine. They’re past all that other stuff, and Buck is on the mend.
Buck even comes to his graduation.
“Hey,” Eddie says, after the ceremony.
“Hey, man,” Buck says with an easy smile. “Congrats again. Must’ve been nice to have your family here, huh?”
“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, again basking in his decision to invite only his local relatives and not his parents. Shame not to have his sisters there, but there was no way to do that without tipping his parents off. “What does Maddie think of the 118?”
Buck’s expression dims and brightens. “She likes it! She was excited to actually get to meet everyone outside of a hospital waiting room, get faces to go with the names.”
“Oh yeah?” Eddie says. Maddie introduced herself to Eddie, “Officially,” she said, with a glowing, teasing smile that left Chimney blinking and confused like an animal staring into headlights, and Eddie stumbled over a remarkable number of incoherent niceties before managing to say, “Good to meet you. Officially.” She seems lovely, he likes her, but she also makes him feel extremely, extremely busted. For what, he’s not sure.
Buck hesitates, and then says, “You know, she seems really nice. Uh, Shannon. Seems nice. I ran into her when she dropped Christopher off.”
“She’s cool,” is somehow what Eddie says in response.
Maddie snags him in the parking lot on the way to his car. “Do me a favor,” she says.
“Sure?” he says.
“Help me get Buck out of the house. He won’t listen to me, and I’m worried.”
“He’s out of the house right now,” Eddie says. “And he leaves the house for work every day.”
“Yeah, and that’s the only time he does leave,” Maddie says. “I just...he’s too old and too tall for me to drag him out into the sunlight. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Eddie says. “Christopher could probably do it, though.”
“Yes! Perfect. Guilt is the best weapon against Buck,” Maddie says seriously. “Unfortunately. But if there’s any time for the big guns…”
“I do need someone to watch him on my weekend shift,” Eddie says reluctantly. “Just an eight hour.”
Maddie nods, a light in her eyes that looks like it could power a small city. She really is related to Buck. “I’ll set it up, kay?” she says.
Sure enough, Buck’s on his doorstep Saturday morning, looking hunted. Maddie waves from the car, and doesn’t leave until Buck’s inside, like he’s gonna make a break for it.
After work, he gets home to a cursory goodbye from Buck, leftovers in the fridge, and an email from Carla. Her father is sick, and she’s not gonna be able to look after Christopher for a while. And Eddie, without thinking much about it, sends Buck a text asking if he’d be able to come watch Christopher again.
Buck comes again during Eddie’s next shift. And the next, and the next. He leaves leftover food behind, his own cooking, and little projects that he and Christopher have done. Evidence of their activities is everywhere. Pine cones in the fridge that Christopher, giggling, explains that Buck forgot there because he’s always forgetting things. Mud all over Christopher’s boots by the door. Paint on the bathroom doorknob. Christopher’s homework, done, no, Christopher doesn’t have any questions, he worked it through with Buck.
It takes Eddie a while to figure out that Buck isn’t working anymore. Should’ve been obvious, the hours he’s available to watch Christopher, but Eddie’s brain isn’t really on a 9-5 schedule. Buck doesn’t say anything, so Eddie doesn’t ask.
“Can you just,” Eddie says, “let me pay you?” It’s a rare day, one where Buck doesn’t head out the door the second Eddie gets home – or the second Christopher releases him from a bear hug – and is actually sticking around for a beer.
“No,” Buck says. Drinks his beer.
“I pay Carla,” Eddie says. “Because it’s a job. Amount you’ve been doing it, it’s a full-time job.”
“He’s a cool kid,” Buck shrugs. “It’s fine, dude. Stop worrying about it.”
“You – “ Eddie says, and doesn’t say any of the unacceptable sentences that could follow.
“No,” Buck says flatly. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. Might as well make my existence less useless.”
“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck stands. His eyes flash to Eddie’s face, blue blue blue, and then away.
“Gotta go,” he says, and clears the house in under a minute.
And the weeks pass and he still doesn’t come back to work.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Eddie says to Hen over cards, some game only Chimney has heard of and is possibly making up as they go. “Even for the injuries he sustained.”
“Yeah, but Bobby’s worried about the blood thinners,” Hen says. “I mean, or he’s worried about seeing Buck cough up blood again.”
“Buck?” Eddie says, like it’s a new name to him. “Coughed up blood? When?”
Chimney frowns at his hand of cards, says absentmindedly, “Buck’s welcome back thing? When he was first cleared.”
“I didn’t know he had a party,” Eddie says.
“You were there, I remember you were there,” Chimney says.
“No,” Eddie says.
“It wasn’t a party, it was us sitting on the floor of Chimney’s living room,” Hen tells Eddie. “Watching Maddie and Chimney flirt outrageously. Which is why Chimney barely remembers anything else about it.” Chimney makes noises of protestation into his coffee.
“Hen,” Eddie says. He’s got a pit in his stomach now.
“Look,” Hen says. “Buck said you had a lot going on, that we should just do something small and let you deal with what you needed to. We figured he’d know best.”
“Yeah, you guys are besties and all,” Chimney says.
“Adults don’t have besties,” Eddie says. He plays a card that makes Hen waggle her eyebrows and rearrange her hand; Eddie’s probably about to get obliterated.
“How dare you,” Chimney says. “And yes they do and you are besties with Buck. Your guys’ picture is in the dictionary under besties, below a bigger picture of me and Hen.”
“He still didn’t want me at his party,” Eddie mutters.
“Oh, we’ve entered the junior high school drama portion of this saga,” Hen says incomprehensibly. “Or have we been there the whole time?”
“There’s no junior high school – no,” Eddie says.
“Right, well. Buck’s okay for the most part, but Cap wants him on light duty. Buck is a stubborn ass, and he’s not gonna be okay with that.”
“One day you’re taking a probie to a Springsteen concert, the next…” Chimney shakes his head wisely.
Eddie organizes his cards and squares them up for something to do with his hands. It takes him a moment to notice Hen watching him with amusement.
“What?” he says defensively.
“Nothing, just.” She grins. “You’re this hurt that he didn’t invite you to a party, but you’re surprised people think you’re best friends? How does that work?”
“I’m not hurt. It’s fine. I just didn’t know.” There’s just no way to say those sentences without sounding outrageously defensive. Hen is definitely laughing at him. Maybe she’d get why it bothers Eddie if he explained the context, but, well, no.
That’s when Bobby comes over and says he has something he needs to tell them.
“You’re telling me our Buck knows what a union is?” Chimney says, but only after Bobby’s left the area. Eddie winces and looks at his cards only.
“I saw that, Edmundo,” Hen says.
“I didn’t know he was gonna…” Eddie nods at Bobby, who’s aggressively chopping carrots. “My bad.”
“You kidding? This is the best it could go,” Chimney says.
“I doubt it even makes it to arbitration,” Hen says. “Buck’ll be back in no time.”
A knock on the door that afternoon, and Eddie opens it to find a cop standing on his doorstep.
“Edmundo Diaz?” she says.
“Yeah?”
“L.A. County Sheriff, sir. Here to give you these,” she says, and hands him a manila envelope. “You have a good day.”
He stands at the counter and opens the envelope. Pulls out the top sheet enough to see RESPONSE – MARRIAGE/DOMESTIC PARTNERSHIP and then lays it down on the counter – thinks twice, and puts it on a high shelf that Christopher can’t reach.
He needs a drink, or a hundred drinks. Obviously, of course Eddie knew this was coming; but in the corner of his mind, he couldn’t help imagining another outcome. People change their minds about divorce all the time.
Next chapter
