[fic] inventing June 4/6

[pairofraggedclaws]

Previous chapter

Eddie gets up and has breakfast with Christopher. He checks his phone, texts his sisters back, does not text his parents back. After Shannon comes by for Christopher, he heads to work. It’s just any other day – and then Eddie gets the alert on his phone and the world snaps into that crystal clarity that comes with a crisis.

“Tsunami,” he says, “it’s a tsunami.” He takes a second to thank God that Christopher is safe with Shannon, and then the 118 is up and moving.

By the time he gets to the field hospital, he feels like he’s been hit by a truck. His socks have been wet for hours, his muscles are as heavy as lead, and if he sits down for more than thirty seconds he’s gonna fall asleep.

There’s a woman sitting on a cot, staring into space. She looks like every other person there; dirty, exhausted, staring shell-shocked into the middle distance. Then the details of her snap into focus.

“Shannon?” he says, and she looks at him with dull eyes. “Shan, oh my God. Are you okay?”

“Eddie, hey,” she says, sounding out of it. “Yeah. I think so. There was a nurse...she was gonna get me water. Did you see her?”

“I – Let me look.” Eddie doesn’t find anyone, so he takes advantage of his uniform and ducks inside to snag a water bottle for her.

Handing it to Shannon, he looks around just in time to see a man approach a nurse holding a clipboard, saying in a torn voice, “H-have you seen a little boy – eight years old – Chris-Christopher - “

“Buck?” Eddie walks over. “Is everyone I know here right now?”

“Eddie,” Buck says, and makes a choking sound. His eyes go to Eddie’s right; Shannon’s followed him. “Sh-Shannon, uh.”

“Did you find him?” Shannon whispers. Buck’s as pale as death.

“Where – “ Eddie’s blood is turning to ice, because in Buck’s hands – in his hands is a familiar pair of glasses. His voice sounds tinny to his ears as his mind catches up with a deadly slowness. “Where’s Christopher?”

“I was at the pier,” Buck says, after a helpless look at Shannon. “I – and the wave hit, and Christopher and Shannon found me. We were – we were on a fire truck. And then the water...”

No. No. This isn’t real.

“I’m so,” Buck whispers. He looks like he might throw up. “I h–had, I had him, I swear I had him but – the water – I couldn’t – I lost – “

Eddie shakes his head, and the world goes grey, grey, grey. Buck is still talking, maybe pleading, but Eddie can’t hear him. Eddie can’t hear anything. He thinks to himself with unbearable clarity that it’s over now. It’s done. Any reason for Eddie to be on this earth has been removed.

And then he sees Christopher.

“Christopher?” Eddie barely recognizes his own voice, but he knows – would know anywhere, would recognize Christopher by his left pinky toe, and he’s closing the distance and wrapping Christopher in a crushing hug, and the world snaps back into color. “Oh my God, Christopher. Holy shit, oh my fucking God.”

“Christopher,” Shannon cries, and slams into the two of them. “I can’t believe it, Christopher, you’re okay. You’re okay?”

“Hi Mom, I’m okay,” Christopher says, and yawns against Eddie shoulder. “Dad’s saying curse words.” Eddie laughs wetly.

He looks up at the woman. “Thank you, thank you so fucking much.”

“Thank you,” Shannon says, voice giving out through tears.

“You’re welcome,” the woman says with brimming eyes. “I guess you’re his mom – and you must be Buck, right?”

“No, uh, I’m his dad. Eddie,” Eddie says. There’s a commotion behind him and he looks over just in time to see Buck’s knees give out from under him, to see Hen and Chimney (okay, so literally everyone Eddie knows is here) catch him and help him to a cot. To see that Buck is sobbing freely.

“He was looking for Buck,” the woman says.

They can’t leave for a long time. The roads are packed and as long as it takes to get seen here, it’ll be longer if they have to drive to a hospital just to wait again. Eddie gets some water for Shannon and Christopher, and the two of them fall asleep together on a cot, Shannon wrapped around Christopher.

He rouses them when the 118 is getting ready to leave, introduces Shannon and asks if she can ride back with them; he’s so tired he doesn’t even care about the raised eyebrows he garners.

(He calls her Christopher’s mom. He should get used to calling her his ex-wife, but that feels impossible. And she’s not, not yet.)

Eddie would like Christopher to sit on his lap so he can hold him like he’s five again, but Christopher has some energy back and claims a seat for himself. Shannon dozes against the door.

“Where’s Buck?” Christopher asks once they’re on the move.

Eddie lost track of Buck after he found Christopher. “I, uh,” he says, looking between Hen and Chimney.

“Home,” Chimney says. “Maddie came and got him.”

“He’s pretty beat up,” Hen says. “Gonna need a few days to rest.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Christopher whispers, eyes wide.

“He’ll be okay,” Eddie says.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Hen says “It’s nothing resting and hydrating won’t fix, and Maddie’s gonna be watching him like a hawk.”

“She used to be a nurse, you know,” Chimney tells Christopher.

Christopher actually sighs with relief. Eddie kisses his head, heart clutching tight with love and worry. “He saved everybody.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie says.

“There was a wave,” Christopher says, scooting closer to Eddie’s side. “Everyone was running, but I couldn’t go fast enough so Mom picked me up and ran and ran...and the wave pulled me away and he found us and put us on top of a fire truck. And Buck had to keep going back in the water because there were people in the water and he had to get them…” He yawns. “Buck said we were all packed in like sardines because there were so many people on the truck and we all had to fit together.”

Eddie needs to not envision this. Buck and Christopher and Shannon stranded on top of a fire engine, and Eddie didn’t even know any of them were in danger. He might puke.

“What did you do all day?” Eddie says with as much of a smile as he can. “With Buck and Mom?”

“We played I Spy,” Christopher says. “And pretend lunch. And Buck taught me about puns.” He shivers. “And then later on the water washed me away.”

Eddie can’t find anything to say. He kisses Christopher’s head again and hugs him close.

When they get to the station, Eddie looks longingly towards the showers, then sighs. Christopher needs to get home.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he almost jumps out of his skin.

“Whoa there, Eddie,” Bobby says. Eddie turns to face him. “I’m making some food for everyone before I go. Well, reheating leftovers. I thought maybe you three could do with some calories before you head home?”

“That’d be great,” Eddie says. “Christopher, what do you think?”

“Can I play pinball with Chimney?” Christopher asks, and Eddie laughs.

“You can ask him once he’s out of the shower,” he says.

“For now,” Hen says, “I could show you the front seat of the fire truck.”

Christopher’s mouth goes perfectly round. “Yes yes yes!”

“Alright, c’mon,” Hen laughs, and leads him away.

“Go shower,” Bobby says, eyes crinkling. “I saw that yearning look.”

“You guys don’t have to – you’re all exhausted. I can wait until I get home.”

“Take care of yourself,” Bobby says softly, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “That’s how you take care of him. We’ve got him, Eddie.”

Eddie closes his eyes. “Thank you. You’ll get me if – “

“Of course,” Bobby says. “Go.” He heads upstairs, and someone touches Eddie’s arm.

“Hey,” Shannon says, finger-combing her tangled hair in twitchy motions.

“Shan, hey. Hope you don’t mind staying a little longer for some food? I figured Christopher could use it. I’m sure there’s some extra sweats or something around too if you wanted to change - “

“No,” she says. “No, Eddie, I think I should go. I think…” She’s fighting the pull of some emotion. “Can we talk for a second?”

He takes her into the locker room. “You okay? I mean, given the circumstances.”

“I think I was wrong,” she says, almost a whisper. “I shouldn’t...be in Christopher’s life.”

Eddie sits down slowly before he can speak. “You – you promised. You’ll destroy him if you leave again. He needs you.”

“He was in danger because of me!” she bursts out, and starts crying in earnest. “It’s like all I do is hurt him.”

“You didn’t hurt him,” Eddie pleads. She looks like she’s in pain. Eddie’s only seen her like this once, on a glitchy video, crying and telling him her mom’s cancer was back.

“I was freaking out, and I asked Buck to watch him for a second – “ She looks down, hiding behind her bangs. “It was selfish. I’m always so selfish. I should’ve been watching him.”

“No. No, this is not your fault.” Eddie swallows. “Please, Shannon. Don’t leave him again.”

“I shouldn’t be a mom,” she says dully.

“Oh, and I should be a dad?” Eddie says, and gets the ghost of a smile out of her. “We’re not perfect, but we’re his parents. You love him, he loves you. Look.” He takes a breath. “He’ll come home with me, there’s another few weeks before he’s supposed to stay with you again, and if by then – “ Razors in his throat when he swallows. “If you really can’t do it anymore, we will – we will talk about that. Just please, please don’t make any decisions right now.”

She sighs shakily. “Okay,” she whispers after a while.

“Fuck. Okay. Okay.” Eddie runs a hand through his hair. He needs to catch his breath before he can speak again. “You just get home, get some rest. Everything else – I’ll take care of the rest.”

Shannon has a strange look on her face. Slowly she nods. “Thanks, Eddie,” she says, like the words are unfamiliar to her.

Eddie blows out a long breath, nodding. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I borrowed someone’s phone before we left the hospital and asked Blue to come get me here,” she says wryly. “My partner. I figured it’d take a while. They should be here soon.”

“Okay,” he says. Slowly, he pulls her in and hugs her tight. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he breathes against her hair.

She moves, and he tenses, but she’s hugging him back, resting her head against his shoulder. This is the closest they’ve been in – fuck, in years. Even after a day in the water, she still smells familiar.

They go back out into the truck bay, and Shannon goes upstairs to hug Christopher goodbye; and then she’s gone, drifting out the door like a feather on the wind.

Eddie still needs to shower. For a moment, he watches Chimney, Hen, and Bobby, exhausted and dirty with the exception of Chimney who has taken one of his lightning-fast showers, all with Christopher upstairs, talking and laughing and ruffling Christopher’s hair. Christopher’s got a towel wrapped around his shoulders and Chimney’s already grabbing something for him to stand on to play pinball. Eddie turns to say something to Buck –

But he’s not here. Of course. He’s at home with Maddie, being taken care of, and he wouldn’t be here even if he hadn’t been in a fucking tsunami. He hasn’t been there for weeks – but it’s for the first time, here, now, today, that Eddie feels Buck’s absence like a missing limb.

 

Shannon calls him in the middle of the night; he’s still awake, been watching Christopher for hours. He slips away to his room.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” she says. “Sorry, I know it’s late, but I was hoping you have time to talk.”

“Course. I’ve just been watching Christopher sleep, like a creep,” he says, and she laughs tiredly.

“Well, if you’re willing to take a picture of him like a creep, just so I can see he’s okay…” she says.

“Sure, hold on,” he says. When he takes the picture, the flash goes automatically. “Shit, shit,” he whispers, retreating, but Christopher just mumbles in his sleep a little.

“You good?” Shannon says.

Eddie sends the picture, brings the phone back up to his ear. “Just an idiot, I almost woke him up with the flash,” he says, shutting the door to his room.

“He could probably sleep through anything tonight,” she says. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

She’s quiet for a moment, a loaded quiet. Eddie waits. Finally she says, “I’m sorry about before. I don’t want to stop being in his life.” Eddie sighs, relief so strong that it’s a full-body sigh. “But I’ll understand if you’re rethinking things.”

“If you’d said that on a normal day, maybe I would be.” He stretches out on his bed. “Today? What you went through? Anyone would be a little fucked up.”

A quiet laugh. “Yeah.” Another loaded silence. “What if I’m never able to handle more than this, than one weekend a month?” She puts a derisive spin on one weekend a month.

Eyes closed, Eddie shakes his head. “Why are you worrying about this? You don’t need to handle anything right now.”

“Because,” she says. “Because maybe I won’t be able to. Or maybe not one weekend, I don’t know, but I don’t think I’d ever be able to have primary custody. Or – or maybe even split it 50-50, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, not understanding.

“I love him, Eddie, and I want to see him all the time.” Shannon pleads, voice scraped bare. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t. Or that I’m trying to leave again, I promise I’m not, I didn’t mean that earlier. I was just at the end of my rope and everything seemed so hopeless.”

“I know you love him,” Eddie says, a kind of dim horror in him that she could think otherwise, “of course I know that.”

She sniffles. “I don’t know if it’s from that time when I was doing it on my own, or what, but it’s like the idea of having to be Mom that much of the time makes me feel like I’m hitting a brick wall. Like...like I just don’t have anything more to give, and Eddie, I’m really scared of what will happen to me if I get to that place again.” She sobs, loud and unrestrained, and Eddie’s hand squeezes the phone.

“Shan, listen,” he says, a wobble in his voice just from hearing her cry, like it’s hard-wired into him. “We can make it work, we’ll find a way. And I don’t give a damn about what anyone thinks about it except for you and Christopher.”

After a couple minutes her voice comes back. “Thanks,” she says. “Too bad we couldn’t have been this good at talking when we were a couple, huh?”

“I guess you were right. We’re better when we’re not a couple.”

“I’m surprised you agree,” she says. Now she sounds lighter, almost giddy, like a metric ton of worry has been lifted off her.

“Well, I do,” Eddie says, and it turns out that he means it. Despite Eddie’s stock-footage dreams and aspirations of being who he’s supposed to be – father, husband, family man – it’s always been a substanceless idea. It doesn’t measure up to talking to Shannon on the phone like this, with honesty and vulnerability and all those other things that, to Eddie, don’t exactly come easy. They never talked like this when they were together. Eddie hasn’t had this much of the real her for years, maybe since before Christopher was conceived.

“So does that means you’ll be putting those divorce papers in the mail anytime soon?” Shannon says, and he trips into laughter. He hasn’t heard that wicked, acid-bright humor from her in a while. She laughs too, raspier than normal.

“Okay, harsh,” Eddie says. Another laugh bubbles out of him unexpectedly. “Jesus. Yes, I’ll send them.”

“Hmm, sure,” Shannon says, like she’s skeptical, but Eddie’s pretty sure she believes him. Pretty sure she – and how crazy is this? – trusts him, and Eddie would rather not do the math on how long it’s been since that was true.

After a moment, he says, “You know this wasn’t your fault, right? You couldn’t have done anything to stop a tsunami.”

“I know. I’m just gonna need to work on believing it,” she says. “You might wanna tell your man-friend the same thing.”

“My - “ Eddie goes hot. “Shan.”

“I’m serious,” she laughs. “I think he really does believe he could have stopped a tsunami if he’d only tried a little harder. So tell him. Maybe kiss it better, too.”

“Oh my God shut up,” Eddie says.

“OMG, like, totally,” Shannon says in a Valley girl voice.

“I’m going to bed now,” he informs her. She’s laughing at him. “Goodnight, Shannon.”

“Night, Eddie,” she says.

The next day, Eddie shifts awkwardly on Buck’s doormat. Christopher, quiet, leans against his leg. He’s been like this since he woke up, subdued and clingy like he was when Eddie first got home for good.

Buck opens the door, shuffles back to let them in, slowly, like he’s in pain.

“Eddie?” he says, like it doesn’t compute. “Chris?”

“Okay if we come in?” Eddie asks gruffly.

Buck steps back to let them in, silent, and his eyes track the two of them over to the couch. Once Christopher is set up watching something, Eddie goes back and finds out that Buck’s really just tracking Christopher. His eyes find him every few seconds, a mechanical movement that Eddie’s familiar with from, fuck, all of parenthood. Buck is checking that Christopher is still there and still breathing.

“I – I’m so sorry.” Buck’s voice is shot to hell. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I tried to find him, I tried…” He trails off with a helpless shrug.

“I know,” Eddie says incredulously. “You tried until you literally collapsed. I know you tried.” He slips sideways around the urge to wrap Buck up in a bear hug, hands off the backpack he’s filled with Christopher–related items. “Got snacks, some games, and some money for pizza, you look like you could use something to eat – “

“Eddie.”

“Maybe stay away from the water? Movies, park, whatever.”

“Edd–”

“Gotta say, this is really working for me,” Eddie continues frenetically. “You out of commission. You’re no Carla or Abuela but you’ll do.”

“Eddie. You – you can’t – “ Buck glances at Christopher and drops his voice to a low, furious register. “You can’t be serious. I lost him. I lost him. He could have died. He almost – “ He breaks off with a quietly agonized sound, throat working. “Because of me.”

“No,” Eddie says, affronted, “no, that’s not what happened. You saved him. You pulled him out of a fucking tsunami, you pulled Shannon out, and then you pulled out God knows how many other people – “

“I didn’t – “

“You saved them,” Eddie says. “He told me that. So did Shannon.”

Buck looks at him like Eddie’s said something that’s cut him to bleeding, and he looks ruined, devastated like a shipwreck, like the ocean floor, and so beautiful, burnished gold with stubble.

“Buck,” Eddie says, putting a hand on his shoulder and catching his eyes. He won’t let the eye contact go when Buck tries to get out of it, just moves with him to maintain it. No thought, no hesitation, Eddie says, “I trust you with him. As much as I trust Shannon with him. As much as I trust myself with him.”

Buck makes that agonized sound again, and Eddie’s the one to look away this time. He’s not shaking – is he? – but it feels like every molecule in his body is vibrating.

“Gotta go, see you, love you Christopher!” he calls.

“Love you!” Christopher calls back. “Love you, Dad!”

The last thing he sees before he closes the door is Buck, looking from Christopher to Eddie, his eyes shining with tears and something that looks like wonder.

Later, Eddie comes back to pick Christopher up. Christopher’s happy, talking fast, an openness to him that assuages Eddie’s worries some.

“Okay, kid, you ready to go to Aidan’s?”

“Yeah, except I need to pack up my backpack,” Christopher says, working on flipping upside down on the couch.

“Do you think maybe you should do that, then?” Eddie says, and Christopher sighs hugely. Eddie turns around to hide his twitching lips.

“Keeping busy?” Buck says, sotto voce.

“That’s the plan,” Eddie says. Sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing, really, but he always seems happier when he’s spending lots of time with friends. And with you. I figured it’d help.”

Buck is silent for a moment, just looking at him. He’s got scratches and scrapes all over him, making his eyes bluer than ever by contrast, and he’s in a sleeveless shirt that shows a hell of a lot of them. It’s more of Buck’s shoulders than Eddie is used to seeing, and Buck’s shoulders invite adjectives like: decadent. Biteable. Mouth-watering.

Eddie looks away, studies the kitchen counters like he’s in the market.

“What’re you doing after?” Buck says finally.

“After dropping Christopher? Nothing.”

“Come back here, if you want,” Buck says. “We can have a beer, watch something.”

“Yeah?” Eddie doesn’t hide his surprise well, hurries on. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll pick up some beer?”

“Okay.” Buck gives him an awkward smile, and edges away to help Christopher with his backpack.

Laughing over beers, the day bleeding out of the sky, they talk. The TV never gets turned on, in the end. Buck tells him funny stories from his day with Christopher; Eddie talks shit about work and calls with idiots who superglue themselves to things intentionally.

It’s dark out, sitting in Buck’s (perpetually dimly lit) kitchen, when Eddie touches Buck without thinking. A gentle brush down Buck’s forearm, tracing some of the deeper cuts there, and the muscles tense under his fingers.

“Does this hurt?” Eddie asks, and his voice comes out husky, dragging like it’s trying to drop an octave. He clears his throat like that’s gonna help.

“No,” Buck says. Eddie looks him in the face and finds Buck already watching him. Eddie wanders his fingers further, feather-strokes his fingertips down the veins on the back of Buck’s hand, and Buck’s eyes flutter closed, his mouth opening to take in a quick breath. Eddie has time to think now, this is what’s called a stupid idea and then that thought flickers and burns out like the filament in an incandescent light bulb.

He fits his lips to Buck’s, and God, don’t they fit just right? There’s a moment where Buck could draw back, maybe tell him to fuck off with this shit, but he doesn’t, he kisses back until Eddie is breathing hard and fast. He’d like to catch his breath – to say Buck’s name, or to give as good at he’s getting – but before he can, Buck’s already maneuvering him up, around, pushing him against the counter until Eddie gets the idea and bends over. He listens to his own harsh breathing, chest heaving against the countertop, and arches his back to let Buck unbuckle his belt and yank his pants down to sag somewhere around his knees. A thrill runs down his spine – is Buck about to – but this is Buck, who would never fuck Eddie(there’s that thrill again, electrifying every vertebrae on its way down the cleft of Eddie’s bare ass, to his hole, making him tingle – ) without asking and easing him into it. Even though the mood right now is weird, for lack of a better word.

Still, the thought – the idea of Buck’s fingers, his cock, pressing inside – Eddie clenches hard at the thought, and then goes hot all over. Could Buck see that?

Eddie feels him, then, hard and slick with lube, and the thoughts are gone. Buck’s cock slides against his ass, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat before Buck goes lower, pressing between Eddie’s thighs. Eddie makes a half-confused, half-aroused sound, trying to get more upright. Buck’s hand lands heavy between his shoulder blades, pushing him firmly back down, and he makes a shuddering sound against the countertop.

Buck guides his cock back between Eddie’s thighs, shifts a little, resettles his hand on Eddie’s spine. Eddie’s body is in total confusion with nothing touching him like he needs, but his skin is tingling all over, his toes curling with every thrust of Buck’s hips.

“Buck,” he sighs, lips moving against the cool counter.

“Eddie,” Buck says, low and intense, hips slapping against Eddie’s ass.

Eddie reaches back, grabbing the back of Buck’s thigh, just to feel it, the muscle flexing as his hips rock. Buck lets him, and leans forward, draping himself over Eddie’s back.

“I’m gonna, fuck, I’m close,” Buck says, his screamed-hoarse voice making Eddie shiver. Two hands on Eddie, one still pressing his chest into the table, one tangling in his hair before it tightens brutally. Eddie sees stars when Buck uses his grip to yank his head back.

“I want it,” Eddie gasps, his voice hard to access with his neck pulled taut like this. Holy fuck, he’s hard. Somehow, this is like the hottest thing to ever happen to him. “I want it, Buck.”

A chuckle, edged bitter, and Buck’s hips speed up. Eddie moans brokenly and pushes against Buck’s hands.

“No,” Buck growls. “Just stay where I put you.”

Eddie nods as much as he can with Buck’s fingers in his hair like this and braces himself with one hand so he can wiggle one down to, fuck, to take himself in hand and stroke. Buck swears, and his hand in Eddie’s hair clenches tighter, his hips stuttering, and the warmth of Buck’s come streaks Eddie’s inner thighs.

“Buck,” he moans, because he’s coming, he’s fucking coming all over Buck’s cabinets, fucking his own hand and then pushing back hard against Buck like if he really tries, he can get Buck inside him.

Buck sags against his back, his hands finding Eddie’s hips, holding them flush together. When their breathing has slowed, Eddie gets his hands under him, and gets back to standing, turns in the circle of Buck’s arms to face him. He touches Buck’s face, the deeper scratches there, and kisses him. Buck kisses back with a desperate fierceness that Eddie should have maybe expected, given the tone of what came before, and when that ends they stay close. Forehead to forehead, close enough to kissing again that they’re trading breaths, and Eddie’s got both hands cupping Buck’s neck with a level of shaky tenderness he can’t really justify.

But eventually Eddie’s got to go home, to shower, because the come has dried on him now, and first he has to haul his pants up from around his knees, and awkwardly offer to clean Buck’s cabinets. And it’s quiet, the two of them standing there like they don’t know each other, like they weren’t laughing over their beers half an hour ago.

After that, even with dropping Christopher off at Buck’s once a week or so, Eddie barely sees the guy until he’s back at work. The first day, Buck comes back grinning from ear to ear in a uniform so clean and crisp that he looks like a fourth grader on his first day of school, smile only brightened by Chim’s heckling and Hen ruffling his hair until it stands up in all directions.

Eddie doesn’t know he’s back until he hears his familiar steps ringing out on the stairs up to the loft. Before he can think about it, Eddie stands up and slams Buck into a hard hug.

“Uh, hey,” Buck says, like he’s surprised.

“You’re back,” Eddie says, too intense, and makes himself let go of Buck. He clears his throat. “Uh. Good to have you back.” Buck looks at him like maybe he’s lost his mind.

They lean on the loft railing next to each other. Buck’s hand is just there, right there. It looks lonely; he’d probably feel better with someone to hold it.

Eddie finds something else to look at. “You didn’t tell me you puked blood at Chimney’s.” Not what he meant to say, but he finds the thought still stings.

A sideways, startled glance from Buck, and he says, “It was fine.”

Eddie wants some more forceful words, but he has to settle for saying, “You should’ve told me.”

“It really wasn’t a big deal. Nothing you needed to worry about,” Buck says.

“No,” Eddie says. “No, I want to know stuff like that.”

Buck huffs a laugh. “Fine, mother hen.” He looks off over the railing, out into the bay. The industrial fluorescent lighting that makes everyone else look ill lights him up; loves him. He belongs here. “I should get started, Bobby gave me a whole list of chores.”

“Better let me do some of those,” Eddie says, “you’ll just fuck it up if you’re left to your own devices.”

Buck makes a face at him, and Eddie makes one back. It’s good to have Buck here.

He starts coming over again, too. They’ve been arranging movie nights for Friday nights when they’re free, usually every other week. They watch whatever Christopher wants, and drink beer and trash talk annoying people from calls after Christopher goes to bed. It’s be normal, casual, friend stuff, but then Buck wraps his lips around the beer bottle and Eddie’s losing the thread of the conversation. It’s ridiculous, and actually worsening with time instead of Eddie getting a grip like he should.

Shannon stops by one day when Buck is over; it’s afternoon, Christopher is doing homework in his room, and Buck’s helping him with dinner. Which really means he’s making dinner and Eddie’s just hanging out and occasionally saying “You sure I can’t help?” while already knowing the answer.

When Eddie answers the door to see her, he almost has a heart attack. “Shannon,” he says, like a calm, tranquil person.

“Eddie, hi,” she says. “I know this is kind of out of the blue – but I was wondering if I could come in for a second? Just to talk to Christopher? He was kind of upset earlier and I wanted to talk to him about it.”

“Sure, yeah,” he says, having no good reason to say no. You and Buck in the same room makes me contemplate walking into traffic might be a good reason, feels like one, but Shannon won’t agree. “What happened?”

“I told him about Blue,” Shannon says. “He got upset about it, which I get, and he didn’t want to talk. I’m hoping now…”

“Right,” Eddie says. “I think he’ll be up for talking now, he seems like he’s in a good mood.”

“Great,” Shannon says. There’s a moment’s expectant silence, and she laughs. “Eddie. You’re going to have to actually let me inside.”

“Right,” he says again. “Right.”

“Hi, Buck,” Shannon says, passing the kitchen, and winks at Eddie. Out of Buck’s line of sight, Eddie makes a furious throat-slashing motion and Shannon giggles.

“Shannon, hey,” Buck says. “You staying for dinner? I kind of underestimated the amount of food this recipe would make, you’d be helping out.”

Shannon’s eyes flick to Eddie, and he nods, because really, what else can he do.

“Let me see how Christopher’s feeling about me right now,” she says wryly. “But if he doesn’t mind, I’d love to.”

Eddie blows out a tense breath as she disappears to Christopher’s room, and wanders back into the kitchen. “Holy fuck, dude, that’s the biggest lasagna I’ve ever seen.”

“I know,” Buck says. “I’m kind of afraid of it. What if it turns against us? We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I have no idea what goes on in your mind,” Eddie says, and laughs.

“What,” Buck says, starting to smile.

“Just picturing you fighting off a giant lasagna,” he says.

“Picturing it? You’re seeing it right now,” Buck says. “Open the oven for me?”

When Shannon comes back with Christopher, smiling, an arm around his little shoulders, he and Buck are laughing at the kitchen table.

After dinner, she starts making moves to leave. Eddie gets Christopher started on his homework, and comes back to find her by the door, having a quiet conversation with Buck. She says something, and Buck laughs, and Eddie just stares. Then she kisses Buck on the cheek and a sensation like lightning rips through Eddie. He’d rather not think about that at all, so he flees to the kitchen and starts aggressively doing dishes.

“Sorry about that,” Eddie says after she’s gone. “Didn’t realize she was stopping by.”

“It’s no big deal,” Buck says.

“No, seriously, I know it was weird. Thanks for you know, bearing with the fucked up mess of my life.”

“It was fine, Eddie,” Buck says, and meaning it, by all appearances. “You have an ex-wife, it’s not like, soap-opera-level drama.”

When they’re gone and Christopher’s in bed, Eddie flattens his cheek against the cool metal of the refrigerator. He doesn’t feel nauseated, or maybe he does – seasickness of the soul. Shannon and Buck don’t belong in the same room together, it’s gonna start ripping holes in the space-time continuum.

 

Visiting what was now Christopher’s school with Carla had been good. It’s the kind of school Eddie never went to – not that his schools weren’t perfectly nice, but no one was talking about his social-emotional learning or any of the hundred other concepts they threw at him on his tour. Christopher’s been going there for a while now, and he loves it.

(Sometimes Eddie envies his son so much he could scream; the way he’s learning about life, about himself. That’s a small thing, though, compared with how Christopher is blossoming. Eddie is well accustomed by now to the agony of imagining the other paths his own life could’ve taken.)

Eddie’s recent phone call, explaining their current custody schedule, was not fun. He had the nasty feeling that he was being seen through – the illusion of him as he should be in jagged pieces on the ground. Now Christopher’s teachers and principal and the nice lady at reception all know that he’s a failure.

Today it’s parent-teacher night, Eddie’s first since Shannon came back into their lives. Here he is, trying to look capable and adult, shifting awkwardly in a chair waiting for Christopher’s teacher like he’s a student himself, with Shannon one chair over.

Shannon starts giggling to herself and Eddie says “What,” snappier than he means to.

She’s not bothered, apparently. “Look at us,” she laughs. “We look like we’re going to junior prom or something.”

Eddie shakes his head, but he cracks a smile too. Mingling with the other parents, most of whom have at least a good five to ten years on Shannon and Eddie, has Eddie on edge. They mostly seem perfectly nice, but all of them have that Los Angeles gloss to them. Meanwhile Eddie’s wearing a too-big blazer with jeans because he literally doesn’t own formalwear, hasn’t had the money for it or the need for anything other than his dress uniform. Shannon is pretty in a sundress, but she’s been adjusting her jewelry in a way that tells Eddie she’s feeling self-conscious. Someday, surely, he and Shannon won’t feel like the urchin children who wandered into a gathering of adults, but evidently not today.

Plus, Eddie’s been awkward since they were welcomed as “Mr. and Mrs. Diaz” and Shannon said, “It’s Reid, actually,” calm as anything.

“Mr. Diaz, Ms. Reid,” says a smiling woman (somehow that information got passed along), and the deluge of information starts. They go from teacher to teacher learning about Christopher’s learning targets and his progress and areas of challenge. Last time Eddie had Carla with him, and she fielded a lot of it for him, but now it’s just him and Shannon. At one point Eddie, utterly confused, makes brief eye contact with Shannon, who looks as lost as he does.

Once they’re done, they hang back in one of the empty hallways, and as soon as they make eye contact, they both start laughing uncontrollably.

“Can someone tell these people I have no clue what I’m doing,” Shannon says eventually, wiping away a tear.

“No, you’re not getting out of this shit,” Eddie laughs. She shoves at his shoulder and he pretends it’s a killing blow that throws him against the wall and there’s a second, one split second, where Eddie sees her looking at him the way she used to in high school. That pull and charge between them, distant but still accessible. He sees the potential of it, sees Shannon see it, and then they both back away from it.

“You’re Christopher’s parents, right?” says a voice, and Eddie turns to see a woman coming down the hallways. “Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not a lot,” Eddie says. “I mean, uh, not at all.”

“I swear I’m not stalking you,” the woman says. She’s got a charming way of talking, a sort of slow drag to her words that catches the ear. “I’m Ana Flores, I’ll be subbing in soon when Christopher’s teacher goes on maternity leave, and I thought I’d introduce myself while you’re here.”

“Hi, yeah,” Eddie says, and for some reason shakes her slim hand. “I’m Eddie.”

“Shannon,” says Shannon. “Eddie’s ex-wife. Nice to meet you.” She shoulders into Eddie like it’s an accident, but Eddie can tell from her pursed lips that she’s trying not to smile. “Actually, though, I’m feeling really tired. Eddie, maybe you can talk to Ms. Flores? I think I’ll wait in the car.”

“Okay?” Eddie says, and Shannon waves and smiles, looking not at all tired as she walks away.

“Well, Mr. Diaz,” says Miss Flores. “I only wanted a couple minutes, if that’s alright with you?”

“Eddie, please,” he says. “That’s definitely, uh, very alright.”

She laughs charmingly, and says, “Eddie, is that short for Edmundo?”

“Yeah, actually,” he says.

She asks him a few questions about Christopher, and when they’re done he says, “I appreciate you taking the time, Miss Flores. I can already tell you’re a good teacher.”

“Call me Ana,” she says. “And, well, I hope I live up to that.”

When he gets back to the car, Shannon won’t explain why she left, just shakes her head and laughs.

 

A few days later, Eddie hears Buck say, “Shannon, hi,” across the firehouse, and his head whips up so hard he pulls a muscle in his neck.

“Shan, what’re you doing here?” he says, hurrying over.

Shannon gives him a relax, crazypants look and says, “Dropping off Christopher’s lunch box? I texted you that I was coming by.”

“Oh.” Eddie fumbles his phone out of his pants. “I didn’t see it.”

“He left it at school, I figured I’d grab it. By the way, guess who I saw.”

He’d love to talk to Shannon pretty much anywhere but the firehouse. Some worlds are just not meant to collide. But apparently they’re having a chat now, and his shift is close to over, which she knows, so he can’t pretend he hasn’t got time.

“Who,” Eddie says in defeat.

“The beautiful Miss Flores,” Shannon says with a devilish grin. “And she asked about you, Edmundo. I think there’s a mutual pretty-brown-eyes appreciation society forming.”

Eddie says tightly, “Please don’t try to set me up with Christopher’s teacher.”

There’s a cough from above, and Eddie closes his eyes for a brief second. No surprise, every fucking person on shift is staring down at them, Hen smacking Chimney upside the head for coughing.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice her,” Shannon says. “I saw you with her, batting your lashes.”

Eddie’s lips are forming words like what in fuck are you talking about but before he can say them, Buck says, “I’ll just – uh, I’m gonna check on the, uh,” and then just leaves.

Eddie lowers his voice to hiss, “Do you get that this is my workplace?”

Shannon ignores that and whispers (very quietly, thank God), “Are you and Buck dating?”

“Seriously, Shannon. Stop.” The back of Eddie’s neck is itching. Everyone is still watching, he can feel their eyes.

Shannon is just getting more amused the more wound up he gets, but she says, back at normal volume, “Fine, you big baby. See you this weekend to finalize everything?”

“Yup!” Eddie grates out, raising a stiff hand to wave her goodbye. Buck is now on the balcony with everyone else, watching and poorly pretending he isn’t. Eddie is gonna have a heart attack, thanks, Shannon.

Once he goes upstairs for the last fifteen minutes of shift, even Bobby gets in on the questioning.

“Miss Flores, huh,” Bobby says with his infuriating Midwestern twinkle. All around him, eyes pop up over tops of books and phones. The fucking fakers, like any of them were reading thirty seconds ago before he came upstairs.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” Chimney says with a grin. “Eddie, would you say she’s beautiful?”

“I really didn’t notice,” Eddie says somewhat primly. Yeah, Miss Flores is pretty, yes she does have lovely brown eyes, but it’s not – it’s just not.

“You weren’t,” Hen clears her throat, “batting your lashes at her?”

“No,” Eddie says. His shoulders are going up around his ears. “She’s a teacher at Christopher’s school, I met her for about thirty seconds. Can we drop this?”

They drop it, kind of. The interrogation ceases and most of them scatter to wind down the shift, but Eddie can tell it’s gonna start again.

Eddie cleans the kitchen and Buck sweeps nearby in silence for a while before he says, “What are you finalizing?” When Eddie raises his eyebrows, he says, “This weekend with Shannon.”

Eddie flits a look at Buck. “The divorce. It’ll be official.”

“But, uh. Still not thinking about Christopher’s teacher?” Buck nudges him with a shoulder and says, “Edmundo.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says. They’re both trying to diffuse tension, but it’s just going up and up.

Ana gonna be Christopher’s teacher, but that’s probably workable, or changeable. She’s gorgeous and very nice, she’s clearly smart. And, not that Eddie would admit it to Shannon when she’s heckling him, but Eddie had definitely gone a little stupid talking to her. He hadn’t batted his lashes, he’s never done that – or maybe like, once, with Buck – but he’d stumbled over his words and okay, maybe stared a little because she was very pretty. So there’s no real reason Eddie can think of not to pursue it.

“She wasn’t my type,” Eddie says. So very untrue, she’s absolutely his type – at least with women, and it occurs to Eddie that, like. He might have a type with men too.

Tall. Strong. Blue eyes , supplies his horny brain, and Eddie waves it off with the ease of practice . But, well, he can’t help looking Buck over, just a little. Buck’s so solid-looking, strong but also reliable , comfortable. He smells like laundry detergent and a not-unpleasant note of sweat, and he’s always so warm.

Tension’s still going up.

 

It hasn’t eased by that weekend, when the gang has won their battle of taking Eddie out for post-divorce-finalization drinks. Hen’s still needling Eddie about Ana Flores, and every time she does Buck gets more quiet, like it’s bothering him.

“For the last time,” Eddie says, chalking his pool cue viciously. “Ana and I are not happening, and we aren’t going to happen.”

The minute he realizes he’s said Ana and not Miss Flores, he knows he’s made a mistake. But then Chim’s there, in a shittier mood than Buck and Eddie combined, with a young guy who turns out to be his younger brother, and conversation turns there. Eddie’s never seen Chimney so humorless, so bitter and biting. Maddie tries to cheer him up a couple times and then abandons him to his misery, retreating to a corner with Hen.

“You know,” Buck says later, “they’re not gonna let it go. Might as well admit it.”

“Admit – Buck. Come on.” Eddie sighs hugely, throwing his head back. “There’s nothing to admit.”

“Seriously?” Buck says. He’s a long, lean presence by Eddie’s side. “Why’re you getting so annoyed about it then?”

Eddie says, “I don’t know. It’s annoying,” a non-answer that Buck lets him get away with.

Eddie doesn’t help himself out when – well, after Chris has fallen off a skateboard and he’s yelled at Miss Flores and then apologized to Miss Flores –

“It’s really alright, Mr. Diaz,” she’s saying.

He drops into an absurdly small child’s chair and sighs. “I appreciate you saying that. But I’m still sorry. I was over the line.”

“Mr. Diaz.” She sits in an adjacent chair, and amends, “Edmundo.” He likes the way she says his name, the way it fits in her mouth, in her honey-slow voice. “I’ve seen plenty of parents get upset, believe me. You were worried, and I get that.” Friendly irony creeps into her voice and she says, “Just don’t make it a habit.”

Maybe there’s a spark there, between them. Eddie hasn’t been trying to date, too wrapped up in Shannon and in his and Buck’s thing. It’s so easy with Buck, or, well, it used to be, that it’s easy to settle into it – the sex is good, and he likes spending time with Buck, and he just hasn’t thought about, like, actually dating.

“Miss Flores,” he says, and she says, “Ana.”

She walks him to reception, and he’s caught up in his head looking at her. There could be a spark. He could imagine a spark.

“Mr. Diaz?” the receptionist says. “Sorry – I just had a question about pickup. We’ve got you down here, Carla Price – and Shannon Reid, that’s Christopher’s mom, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Eddie says.

“I also have a note that he’s going to be picked up by Evan Buckley this Thursday – he’s picked Christopher up before, is that someone you wanted to be added to the list of allowed pickups generally?”

“Sure, actually, that’d be great,” Eddie says.

“Alright, and what’s his relationship to your family,” she says, typing busily.

Eddie glances at Ana, playing idly with her hair. She really is lovely. He could ask her to lunch, he thinks, see how it plays, and he says distractedly, “He’s my partner.” Ana gets a look about her, an off-kilter awkwardness, like she’s gone wrong-footed.

“Edmundo – Mr. Diaz – I should get back, I have some stuff to prep for tomorrow.” She bids him a distracted goodbye and is gone so fast he’s left blinking with surprise.

“Gotta say, that makes a lot of sense,” the receptionist is saying. “But it’ll break some hearts, let me tell you!”

Eddie focuses back on her. “Break...hearts?”

“I shouldn’t really say anything,” she laughs. “Well, I won’t give you any details! But there are more than a few moms who’ll be sad you’re off the market. Mr. Buckley too, I know someone who’s planning on slipping her number to him...”

“Uh,” Eddie says, not following.

“How long have you two been together?” she asks pleasantly.

“Oh. Oh, uh.”

A brief and vivid vision slips through Eddie’s head of Buck being handed a number by one of the pretty single moms – or, there’s another single dad that Eddie knows, they’ve chatted, a thin guy with fine-boned hands. Straight, as far as Eddie knows, but Eddie was straight as far as Eddie knew before he met Buck.

“Not long,” he eventually says, weakly. When the conversation winds down, he gets the hell out of there.

This is a weird fucking way to act, no denying it, and Eddie adds it to the “think about later, or never” pile.

- and he could salvage that with Ana, but he’s not sure how much he cares, in the end. Only the next night at the bar, Eddie calls her Ana again and when everyone starts going in on him for how suspicious he’s acting, he can’t tell them that it’s because the staff of Christopher’s school now think he and Buck are dating for no acceptable reason.

“Every time you deny it, it makes me think something crazier happened with her,” Chimney says. His brother’s there again, Albert, but Chimney’s in a much better mood this time.

“Nothing – “

“You made out in her classroom?”

Eddie grits his teeth. “Nothing happened.”

“Had sex in her classroom,” Maddie chimes in, and she and Chimney explode into giggles together. Could be adorable, if it wasn’t so fucking annoying.

Eddie’s head will explode, it will. “Can we move on from making shit up about my sex life.”

“Sex on the roof of her classroom,” Hen chimes in. Karen waggles her eyebrows at Eddie. “Or is that a Buck exclusive?”

“What?” Eddie actually, really might be dying. How long has Hen known about him and Buck? Does everyone know? What the literal, actual fuck. “No – that’s – that’s not – “

Buck shoves a cold beer into Eddie’s hand and says, “That wasn’t on the roof of a school, it was on some random apartment building.”

“Eddie, you know about this, right? Buck 1.0,” Chimney says, “decides to steal a fire truck and - “

“Let’s leave Buck 1.0 in the past where he belongs,” Buck says. Eddie is trying to catch his breath in a subtle way. Hen didn’t mean them. No one knows about –

(Eddie falling to his knees in front of Buck; the way Buck looked down at him, stunned. His mouth stretched full, dick harder than it had maybe ever been, and how his voice didn’t go back to normal for the rest of the day. The bruises on his knees that didn’t go away for the rest of the week, that Eddie couldn’t stop touching to feel the ache again.)

– that.

“You’re right, let’s focus on Eddie. Sex, drugs, and gambling on the roof of her classroom.”

“Nothing fucking happened,” Eddie says as evenly as physically possible. Except that Ana thinks he’s in a serious relationship with Buck – and Eddie’s letting her think that – and he doesn’t feel weird about it at all, actually, he pretty much just feels weird that he doesn’t feel weird.

Eddie shoots Buck a guilty look at the exact wrong moment, and he can see it on Buck’s face; Buck thinks Eddie and Ana are fucking. This is not a problem, really, Eddie’s an adult, and he could if he wanted to, he’s got nothing to feel guilty about, but he does. No reason to be bothered by Buck’s assumption, but he is.

 

That weekend Eddie tells Buck about the skateboard thing, and Buck’s immediately comes over, full of plans, and it doesn’t start as a perfect day, but it kind of ends as one. Buck’s grinning at him, all-out, and his fingers are dirty, and he’s waving a piece of PVC pipe around as he talks, like a rogue orchestra conductor. The sunlight catches him, makes him glow; Eddie can’t stop looking at the picture he makes.

After they finish building the thing, they drink beer sitting in the grass. Eddie toys abstractly with the image of sliding closer to Buck, smoothing a hand up his thigh. He doesn’t do it; whatever the rules are of their current...thing, Eddie doesn’t think it includes this moment, sun-drenched and happy. Anyway, he’s not gonna risk it.

“You think he’ll like it?” Buck asks, and Eddie can’t resist bumping their shoulders together.

“Course he will. He’ll love it.” Eddie bends a knee, letting his leg move closer to Buck. Buck doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and the feeling holds, the perfect soap-bubble of a moment.

It holds while they laugh and talk there in the yard, it holds while they load up the skateboard and get in the car and drive to get Christopher from school and while they load him up and take him to the park and get him going. Eddie pushes, and Buck pushes with him, and Eddie can’t stop smiling. Christopher is laughing, loving how fast they’re going, and Buck’s smiling too, even when their eyes lock for a long minute before Eddie almost wipes out and has to look where he’s going again.

Even after, when Eddie says, “I wish every day could be like that,” it holds. Buck just half-smiles and says, “Me too.”

 

But a few days later, Eddie is underground. Again.

Eddie is going to die underground. Locked away from the sky and the wind and the sun, buried fucking alive. Again.

Instinct or training keeps him calm. Fear floats nearby, threatening to latch on, but for now –

“Cap,” he says to his radio, his voice rough and breaking. “I’m here. I’m still – “ He coughs, spits out mud. “I’m still alive down here.” Nothing, nothing, nothing, the radio is broken and Eddie is going to die; and terror gets its hooks in him and he screams, “I’m still alive down here!”

There’s only silence, and mud, and rising water. No one’s coming for him. He makes himself move, he gets to the water, god, the freezing water, and then he stops feeling so cold.

He could close his eyes. He could let it end. God, he’s tired.

The water can have him.

Eddie doesn’t know where he is; in his mind, the water stretches on forever in all directions. The water can have him, that’s okay. That’s okay.

Then he hears it; a voice.

“Dad,” says the voice, and he sees him; Christopher, looking at Eddie, smiling. It’s the first day of school, and Christopher’s asking if dogs think they’re people.

Christopher’s a baby, impossibly small in Eddie’s arms.

Christopher looks at him and says, “I miss you all the time,” and Eddie hugs him, this person that Eddie created, this person who has the best of him and Shannon.

Like she’s been called, Shannon is before him. “Christopher needs you.”

Christopher.

Shannon.

“We were always better together when we weren’t together,” she says, and it doesn’t hurt to remember. There’s hope there, too, hope he hadn’t seen. They can still be parents together. It’s not over – it’s a new beginning.

God, Shannon. Shannon laughing into her hair. Shannon rolling her eyes. Shannon hugging Christopher for the first time in two years. Shannon, and Christopher, and Eddie, in the kitchen, in the sunlight, and he and Shannon aren’t married, but they’re all there, after all. He wants the new beginning. He wants –

Buck, he wants –

Buck, slanting that brilliant smile at Eddie for the first time in some random bar. Kissing the breath out of him in the parking lot.

Buck – smiling at Eddie, and turning away –

Arguing with him, fighting like two wet cats in a sack but always, always coming back –

Taking care of Christopher –

Taking care of Eddie –

Even when Eddie fucks up –

Buck forgives him, he never turns away –

This is how Eddie has left it, here, now, hanging in the endless dark water. He fucks up, and Buck forgives him, but Eddie could –

If he had the time –

“Dad.” Christopher says. “Eddie,” Shannon says, and Buck echoes, “Eddie –“

And Eddie wakes up.

He swims (somehow). He breathes air. He drags his leaden body to shore, and hauls himself to his feet.

Staggers on legs like rotted planks to the lights that he can see from here.

“Bobby, w–we can’t stop looking,” someone is saying in a torn voice. “We can’t leave him down there.”

“Kid, we’re gonna keep looking.” That’s Bobby, talking to Buck. Buck, whose eyes are red, tear tracks through the mud on his face. “We’ve got thermal imaging cameras, we’ll do a grid search – “

“Gonna,” Eddie pants, “be hard to find me – “ and the end of his sentence is lost in the hubbub. Eddie’s knees go out from under him and Buck is there, strong, holding him up, and Eddie laughs breathlessly and lets him take the weight. He doesn’t have much choice; his legs won’t support him anymore. It’s fine, Buck has him.

Eddie gets discharged after a few hours. He makes his way outside and then he remembers that he came here in an ambulance; he’s gonna have to call an Uber.

“Hey,” Buck says, and Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Didn’t see you there,” Eddie says. He hunches into himself. There’s a permeating chill through him that refuses to leave.

“I thought you might need a ride,” Buck says, hands in his pockets. “I waited around.”

“Uh,” Eddie says, reopening the Uber app and canceling his ride. “Yeah. I do. Thanks.”

He falls asleep in the car; it’s so warm with Buck blasting the heat.

“Eddie,” says a voice, and Eddie swims back towards consciousness. “Wake up, we’re here.”

 

“So – so the doctor didn’t say anything else? You’re just...fine?” Buck’s pacing back and forth.

“As far as they can tell,” Eddie says from the couch. He suppresses the urge to shiver. “I was lucky.”

Buck stops moving to rub at his brow. “Jesus. Lucky.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I? Can’t really complain.” It’s not even cold in the living room, objectively, but it feels like it, chilly and drafty. Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, rubs subtly at his arms.

“Okay. You need to go to bed,” Buck says. “I know they told you to keep warm.”

“I’m okay,” Eddie says, though he can’t stop rubbing at his arms now he’s started.

“Come on,” Buck says, tugging Eddie up by his arm. “There are times to be Mr. Tough Guy and this is not one of them.”

“Jesus! Okay!” Eddie yelps, being dragged now. It’s hard to resist, with the way he hurts all over, like he’s been worked over with a baseball bat.

Buck shoves him at his bed and says, “In.”

Eddie makes a miserable sound, wrapping his arms around himself. Buck’s right, obviously, but Eddie can tell the sheets will be crisp and cool, and he just doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to get in and have to adjust to the cold and slowly get warm. He’d like to curl into a ball and die, preferably.

Buck turns back the covers, and Eddie doesn’t move. Buck sighs and makes Eddie sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re too stubborn for this world,” Buck tells him, pulling his shoes off for him. Eddie, feeling about five years old, has the urge to stick out his tongue. Buck sits next to him, pulling off his own sweatshirt and his shirt, and then peels Eddie’s sweatshirt off despite his protestations. “Eddie, just bear with me.”

“I’m cold,” Eddie says, a definite whine, but lets Buck take the sweatshirt. Buck gets under the covers, lying down, and pulls Eddie in bed on top of him.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” Buck says, pulling the covers over them both and wrapping his arms around Eddie.

“Oh,” Eddie says inanely, wriggling in close to the heat of Buck. He’s starting to shake in earnest now, his body no longer locked with tension now that there’s a heat source. Buck being half naked barely even registers.

“Here,” Buck says, pushes Eddie away and moves himself, laying Eddie down in the warm spot where Buck was lying. Once Eddie’s lying flat on his back, Buck kind of drapes himself over Eddie’s entire body like a blanket.

“Ohhh,” Eddie moans, clinging hard to Buck.

“Warmer?” Buck says gruffly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, the shaking lessening, letting him relax a little. “You feel like a furnace.”

“You feel like an ice cube,” Buck says. His hands stroke up and down Eddie’s sides.

Eddie says, “Can I just – “ and pushes Buck off him enough to tug his own shirt off, kick off his sweatpants, leaving him only in boxers. He manages not to moan this time when Buck lies back down. After a second, Buck wiggles, kicking his own sweats off, and tangles their legs together.

He breathes. Buck breathes. He doesn’t think Buck is asleep. Their breathing lines up, until they’re breathing together, deeply, Buck moving to fit somehow closer to Eddie. His breathing gets faster, and so does Buck’s, staying in sync with his.

Buck’s hands clutch him, tightly, desperately, and Eddie’s breath hitches in an aborted gasp, his fingers twitching where they rest on Buck’s back. He doesn’t even have time to freeze up before Buck does it again, turning his head, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s chest. They’re still breathing together, but deeper, shaky breaths, Eddie’s chest heaving even as he tries to rein himself in.

Buck presses his lips to Eddie’s chest, an open-mouthed kiss and Eddie gasps for real. Buck does it again, and Eddie can’t help the way he arches a little into it. He can feel Buck’s eyes close, the butterfly sweep of his eyelashes on Eddie’s skin.

Eddie’s shaking like a leaf as his hands slide up Buck’s back to his head, pressing Buck to him. Buck’s mouth on him sends electricity through his entire body. It’s minutes before Buck pushes himself up to look Eddie in the eye. Eddie’s hands pull at him, and then they’re kissing.

They keep kissing, as they arch and bow into each other, as Eddie gets hard and Buck gets hard, too, against Eddie’s thigh. Buck shifts a little and presses into Eddie, grinding their cocks together, and Eddie makes a sound into his mouth, just a quiet thing. Buck does it again, again, again...and it’s only a few minutes before they’re coming against each other. Eddie muffles the sounds he’s making into Buck’s neck.

“Fuck,” Buck pants. Eddie, gluey exhaustion pouring in, makes a little sound of assent before he falls asleep.

He wakes up something like warm, Buck easing into bed.

“Buck?” he says muzzily.

“Just went to the bathroom,” Buck says quietly. “Nothing to worry about.” He lets Eddie cling onto him again for a little while before he gets up for real and starts getting dressed.

Eddie watches him, the way he moves around Eddie’s space, like he knows every inch, which he does by now. The surprising delicacy of his hands, limbs awkward as a colt’s, birthmark standing out pinker than usual. He’s gorgeous, is the thing, and it dawns on Eddie that this isn’t the first time he’s thought this. Not the first time he’s watched Buck and thought beautiful or this fucking hotass or God I want him on me. Eddie can’t think of a time he hasn’t felt that way about Buck.

On top of that – Eddie aches with some emotion. He could have been gone, under the water there, winked out of existence just like that. But he didn’t. He has his life still. He gets to be here with Buck.

“You know, sometimes I think,” Eddie says, and then stops with a sudden flare of nerves.

“No kidding?” Buck says, and Eddie throws a pillow at him. Buck makes a face at him, but throws the pillow back, and Eddie smiles at it stupidly.

“Like, do you ever think we’d be kinda good together?” Eddie says, rushing through it.

Buck approaches the bed with slow, deliberate steps like it’s a bomb about to blow, and his eyes are very blue when he looks at Eddie. “Good...together.”

“I like you, Buck,” Eddie says. “I really...I didn’t realize, I guess. Until yesterday, when I thought I would die down there.”

“You didn’t realize,” Buck says. He’s blinking fast.

“I didn’t realize how much, I mean, or, I don’t know.” His voice is going from hoarse to nonexistent. “There’s something between us, and I...maybe we should see where it goes.”

“A-are you asking me out?” Buck says. He laughs, but it doesn’t sound happy.

“Yeah. I guess I am,” Eddie says, and tries to smile at Buck. He can’t carry it off. Something’s wrong, something is very wrong here.

“Eddie,” Buck says, squeezing his eyes closed like he’s in pain.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers, and takes Buck’s hand, except he doesn’t, because Buck pulls away. “I just. I really. I care about you.” Eddie’s hair is falling in his eyes, and he rakes it back. “I just want…”

“You don’t even know what you want,” Buck snaps, and then stops to take a deep breath. “Not that long ago, I would’ve taken – anything from you, anything. I just wanted any-anything. A sign that you felt the way I – But I realized…”

“What,” Eddie says. This isn’t going well, he knows that fucking much. “What did you realize?”

“You don’t want anyone to really know all of you.” Buck’s eyes are alarmingly clear when he looks at Eddie. “You want – a, a work self and a home self and a one-night stand self. But it – it doesn’t work like that, and Eddie, I know you. Down to the bones.”

Eddie shakes his head, not even sure what he’s shaking his head at.

“You like black coffee,” Buck says softly, and Eddie’s throat twinges, hard, a sharp pang of red-hot pain. “You like the corner bunk. You like driving, but you like being a passenger more. You love work, and you hate talking about yourself. You hate looking like a fool.” He swallows, and says with painful softness, “I don’t trust you. N-Not with this, Eddie.”

“I know you, Buck,” Eddie says. “I know you like heavy blankets and thunderstorms and going to the eye doctor – and you get cold when you’re sad, and – and you – “ He’s starting to sound unhinged. “If you don’t have any feelings for me, then just tell me that.”

“If I learned anything from Abby,” Buck says, “it’s that feelings aren’t enough. It’s not – enough, Eddie. Not after –” He stops talking.

Fucking hell, Eddie’s vision is trying to blur. “I didn’t...”

“I – “ Buck stands up abruptly, jaw working. “I just can’t.”

“Buck, wait.” Eddie swallows. “Stay. Please.”

Buck doesn’t say anything, but he gives a tiny shake of his head, his eyes, glassy, meeting Eddie’s for a split second. And then he’s gone.

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