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Buck hates the new grocery store he goes to.
After the disaster of seeing the 118 at the store, he refused to go back. The memory of his team looking at him with such disdain and Eddie calling him exhausting was more than enough deterrent never to go back again.
So here he was, at a store that was further from his house, having a minor breakdown because they didn’t carry his specific brand of granola bars.
This is all Eddie’s fault really. He had brought them in one day and Buck was hooked and now he couldn’t even text the man to ask where else he could buy them. On top of that, his leg was aching almost to the point where standing was painful and his head thrashed under the fluorescent lights.
It was like the universe was out to get him. The fact that he hasn’t spoken to Eddie in almost two weeks but also the soul-crushing reality that was his love for the other man. Even if their friendship survived this, he doubts Eddie would ever treat him the same again. Let alone the fact he wasn’t interested in men.
Buck needed to leave the cereal aisle or risk a breakdown.
He was able to check out with minimum contact with anyone else and hobble to his car. His leg was really starting to bother him. The drive home was filled with much discomfort and an ache in his chest to call someone. Anyone. They all had lives though. Places and people that weren’t him. That were never him.
Second string was something he was used to. There would always be someone else, someone better, someone who could fulfill every role that was needed.
Buck got inside and immediately went for the pill container on the counter. He should’ve known better than to get out of bed during a rainy LA day. He swallowed two pain pills dry and grimaced, fucking hell .
He opted for shoving all his groceries into the fridge and lying on his couch, shutting his eyes to ease the tension in his head.
Before long he woke up sweating, definitely dehydrated, and overall miserable. The ache in his leg made it uncomfortable to move and the thought of getting up made him want to throw up. He grappled for his phone and whined softly as the glare from the phone lit up his face.
He opened what looked like his and Bobby’s text thread, requesting time off even though the guilt of not showing up to work may swallow him whole. It has been a good couple of weeks and he wanted to go, he really did, but the more he thinks about getting up, the more nauseous he gets.
He hoped that Bobby understood and prayed to whatever being there was that he wouldn’t be benched again. Offhandedly he thinks about the transfer papers that were sitting on the kitchen island. Buck has been going back and forth on it for the better part of a month at this point. His recovery was grueling and tiresome but giving up being a firefighter hurt worse than anything else.
The transfer papers were just another option. Buck had hoped to talk to Bobby before he would ever turn them in but time has passed and he’s barely gotten more than three sentences out of him. He was just tired of feeling passed over. Deep down, Buck knew the answer but couldn’t bear to accept it.
Buck hopes he sent a text that made half sense before letting his phone clatter to the floor and succumbing to sleep.
When he woke up this time, it was to muttering above him. “-uck, if you… i swear to…you can’t…”
Something cool pressed against his clammy forehead and he slightly leaned into the pressure. The voice or whatever sounded sad, too quiet in his too quiet apartment. He felt himself being picked up but couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. If this was a dream then it was lovely. He hoped this dream man was Eddie. It's a nice dream where lawsuits, tsunamis, and embolisms can’t ruin his life. He had dreams like this often. Being held by Eddie in such a tender way made him want to break down and cry. He was set down on something soft and a blanket? was pulled over him. A gentle hand ran through his hair before the presence retreated.
Buck sank back into sleep, more relaxed and calm than he usually does. Ever since the series of tragedies, sleep is more elusive; if he does get sleep, it’s only for a few hours before he wakes up scrambling for air. So as he sleeps he dreams of Eddie, Chris, and the 118.
He awoke hours later, sunlight filling his apartment and the faint scent of coffee brewing. He tried to lean up to see over the railing but the movement left his head spinning. He groaned and suddenly there was Eddie.
“Whoa, hey you need just to stay still. That was a pretty bad fever you had.” Eddie said as he placed a cup of coffee on his bedside table to help Buck sit up.
While it hadn’t been a long time, Eddie looked haggard. The bags under his eyes told Buck enough to know he wasn’t sleeping and the hoodie he was wearing definitely needed a wash. But Buck didn’t care. He could barely comprehend why Eddie was here. He cleared his throat, “Wh-what are you doing here Eddie?”
Eddie looked surprised by the question. He mulled it over before giving Buck a calculated answer, “I got sent a weird text at 4am. I was making sure you hadn’t done anything stupid.” It seems as if that’s all the explanation that Buck was going to get. He reached for his phone, which he did not plug in, and looked at the last sent text.
While he did not text ‘Bobby’, he did text ‘Baby’. Buck was horrified. All the time he had that as Eddie’s contact name, he had never let the other man know about the nickname on his phone.
The text was mostly gibberish anyway, a 4 am nonsense text that made sense if you squinted.
‘hyr bsobt camt come in. leg fel baf. srry’
“Eddie, I didn’t mean to send this to you,” he said softly. Eddie nodded, “I know, I already called Bobby and let him know.” A wave of relief swept through him, he couldn’t afford to break the already strict call-out policy. “You don’t have to stay,” though Buck wanted him to. Wanted Eddie to comfort him and hold him.
“Buck, I need to apologize to you. I know I haven’t been fair to you and with Shannon and Chris,” he trailed off, “...I’ve been a pretty shitty friend.” He ran his hands through his shorn hair. “Eddie, I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t know that sleazeball was going to do that. I just wanted to come back,” Buck sounded small, like a child that got scolded.
Eddie wrapped his warm hands around Buck’s, “Let’s just agree that we both did some shit and never do it again. Okay?” The soft smile Eddie gave Buck warmed him to the core and he reached out for a hug.
Eddie held him close, sighing deeply as he enveloped him. Buck could feel the onslaught of tears coming but he didn’t want to cry and exacerbate his headache. Eddie gently pulled back and grabbed a glass of water and a couple of meds from his table. Buck also saw the transfer papers on his table as well, something he knew he left on his kitchen counter.
“You can’t leave,” Eddie started, eyes locked on the half-filled papers, “Buck, I, I wouldn’t know what to do.” It was Buck’s turn to reach out and hold Eddie’s hand, “Eddie, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to. I was just…frustrated.”
Eddie didn’t say anything but he did take the cup and place it on the side table. He crawled over to the other side and slid into the bed holding Buck as if he wasn’t a 6’2” firefighter. Buck didn’t think this is how this conversation, if you could even call it that, would ever go. He laid with Eddie and wanted to say and do about a thousand things. But Eddie silenced whatever half-concocted plan with a kiss to the forehead.
“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he murmured into his skin.
Buck clung to that promise as he drifted back to sleep.