Passion4Words

He was wrapped Tommy’s hoodie, one that smelled like his deodorant and motor oil and coffee, and Eddie was pressed against his side, fingertips dancing through his curls.

He didn’t even notice his eyelids drooping, didn’t feel himself start to drift. It wasn’t until Tommy brushed his hand down Buck’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple that he realized he’d missed the whole movie.

Music blared from the speaker and the screen rolled through visual effects artists and the soundtrack, and Buck wasn’t even sure he’d heard an actor utter a single line.

“C’mon,” Tommy murmured, running his hands down Buck’s shoulders to wake him up. “Bed’s waiting.”

“S’rry,” Buck muttered, scrubbing his eyes and aimlessly following Tommy down the dark hall. Eddie was already under the quilt, scrolling through his phone when they got to the bedroom.

He threw back the covers and let Buck crawl in, pulling the blanket back over Buck’s shoulders as soon as he’d collapsed beside Eddie.

Eddie pressed a kiss to his cheek and Buck could feel his fingertips trace over his temple, the soft press of his fingertips brushing under Buck’s jaw.

“You feeling okay?” Eddie had asked, voice gentle in the dim light of the bedroom lamp. Buck could hear the shower running along with the low hum of Tommy’s baritone, a broken melody of some late 90’s rock song Buck didn’t know the name of.

Buck blinked one eye open, squinting up at Eddie. “Mm, just tired.”

“I’m covering tomorrow, remember,” Eddie said regretfully, fingers still tracing over Buck’s cheek. “Tommy will be here, though.”

Buck huffed, dismissing the worry easily. They’d just worked a double and ended on a call that landed them in an office building with eight flights of stairs. Their equipment wasn’t getting any lighter and, if the shimmering flecks of gray in Eddie’s hair were any indication, they certainly weren’t getting any younger.

Buck yawned, shuffling closer to Eddie as he let his eyes close again.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, already feeling the pull of sleep. “You worry too much.”

He wasn’t even awake long enough to hear Eddie’s reply.

Now, he’s up for the third time in as many hours, nausea slowly churning in his gut, skull tight with tension. He’s been trying to fall back to sleep, to will his mind to slow; for the worry that comes with the lingering feeling of sickness to recede and bring the headache with it.

He’s pressed against the tub, feet bare and cold against the tile, but for just a moment – a flash of a second – he’s back at the beach the night of his diagnosis. Toes in the sand, shivering on the edge of the ocean, mind as distant as the sun setting along the horizon.

So lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t hear the door creak open, the sound of soft footsteps against the floor, the quiet whisper of his name. It’s not until he feels those fingertips again that he realizes he’s still in the bathroom.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs. “Come on, let’s get back in bed. I can help.”

Buck blinks and suddenly he’s sitting there – on the edge of the bed, a shiver rolling through him. Eddie crouches and meets his gaze, brows furrowed, eyes shining with worry.

“You feel warm, did you take anything in there?” Eddie says, straightening the hoodie on Buck’s shoulders, fingertips finding Buck’s pulse just inside his wrist. Buck hums against the warmth.

“No,” he says. “Felt like I might be sick…ca-can’t sleep.”

Another shiver runs through him and Eddie’s gone, then back again, tugging socks on his feet.

“Wanna lay on the couch?” Eddie asks, handing Buck a glass of water and pills he didn’t even notice Eddie grabbed. “Anything else bothering you?”

Buck hears a soft grumble behind him and the blanket is tugged backward, Tommy shifting before his breath evens back out in a quiet snore.

Buck smiles faintly, assessing each part of his body. There’s an ache deep in his muscles, the nausea still sitting heavy, a headache – symptoms he compares to ones he had…before. He tries to bring up memories of the way his muscles had been tight back then, how exhausted he’d been to the point of frustration.

It’s a playbook he’s memorized by now, one he wishes he could forget.

“I’m sure it’s just something from work – a bug,” Eddie says, as though he can read Buck’s thoughts. “Want me to call Dr. Graham’s office?”

“N-No,” Buck rushes to say, shoving the memories down and focusing on Eddie, warm at his side. “Couch is good.”

Buck shuffles to the living room with Eddie at his back. They split when Eddie makes another pit-stop at the kitchen where he refills Buck’s water and gets a fresh ice pack.

The couch is still soft where Buck was nestled in during the movie, pillows shoved together to snuggle into. When Eddie joins him, he lifts Bucks head and settles him onto his lap before returning his fingers to Buck’s curls.

“Hmm, feels nice,” Buck murmurs, feeling the tension at the base of his neck and into his spine seep into something softer. The nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him settles and his eyelids grow heavy.

He tugs them open and looks up at Eddie when he makes a realization, “You have to work tomorrow.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I can sleep later,” Eddie says, smoothing his thumb over Buck’s birthmark. The phantom weight of the touch drags Buck’s eyelids closed again, sleep finally greeting him with hesitant arms. “Get some sleep, baby.”

The next time Buck blinks his eyes open, Eddie’s gone, warm lap replaced by another one, just as familiar and strong.

“Hey,” Buck mumbles, voice rough with sleep. There’s still a drumbeat behind his eyes and he feels a shiver course through him, a thin sheen of cold sweat lacing his temple.

Tommy moves his book and his adorable, glasses-wearing face smirks down at Buck and just that moment – that look of adoration, fills him with warmth he’s been missing. The soft flutter of care smothers the now ever-present nausea, at least for the moment.

“Sunshine,” Tommy says softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m being cooked on the inside and frozen on the outside,” Buck says, shoving off the cushions and sitting up. He’s barely straightened out before he’s tipping against a wave of dizziness. Tommy reaches out and steadies him.

“Easy,” Tommy says as he shuffles and grabs something off the table. When Buck pulls an eye open, he reaches out, hand trembling, for the icy glass of water.

It feels like heaven, the rush of cool liquid sliding down his throat. Buck can still feel Tommy’s hands on him; knows he wasn’t the only one that feels the memories of his cancer like they’re branded into his skin.

They’d had to spend a week apart, separated by a door and distance that felt like miles even when it was down the hallway. Buck had done radioactive therapy, had to keep a certain distance in a time when his emotions threatened to crush him at every turn.

Now, if he has a headache, feels a tickle in his throat, feels a chill in the air – Eddie and Tommy are at his side before he can blink. Connected to him until they’re assured that he feels better. Know he doesn’t need them at his side anymore.

“Eddie?” Buck murmurs, tendrils of confusion running through him. He can’t be sure how much time has passed, the room is dim, but the curtains are pulled, the soft light of the lamp at Tommy’s side the only warm haze in the room.

“He’s at work,” Tommy says, bracing his palm against Buck’s neck, grounding him. “It’s still early, not even eight o’clock yet.”

Buck feels the distinct rush of illness – one that leaves him restless but exhausted, sticky with sweat but shivering with fever, wishing he could settle back into sleep easily, but knowing it’s out of reach.

“I feel gross,” Buck says, slumping against the couch.

“Want a bath?” Tommy asks, slowly freeing Buck’s legs from the tangled blanket wrapped around them. “Or I could get a damp washcloth – we could move back into bed if you want.”

Frustrated and worn thin, Buck can feel a tear threaten to fall. He blinks it back, swallowing down the knot in his throat. It’s just a bug, he’s sure, but the rush of emotion unseated from the back of his mind washes over him again in an instant.

Tommy brushes a hand over Buck’s cheek and Buck feels the damp trail of a tear that’s fallen.

“Come on,” Tommy says softly, pulling Buck to his feet. “I think a bath would be nice.”

It’s better than nice. It’s perfect, the warmth of the water and the cool press of Tommy’s hand against his forehead settle him again. Damp skin washes traces of sweat and the stickiness of the couch feels like a distant memory.

Tommy stays with him, leans against the side of the tub while Buck relaxes into a fitful doze. He brushes over Buck’s arms when his skin prickles with goosebumps. He runs a cool washcloth over Buck’s neck when the fever starts to spike again.

The rest of the day moves carefully, quiet and gentle with nowhere to be. Tommy doesn’t leave his side, save for brief trips to the kitchen for oatmeal and applesauce, Gatorade and water. For more pain reliever and ice packs and fresh t-shirts and new socks that are warm from the dryer.

When the fever finally breaks the next morning, Buck feels like a week’s passed, the anxiety of illness skimming through his nervous system along with the last dregs of sickness.

He’s wrapped around Tommy’s middle, eyes still closed while he gathers the courage to open them, when he hears the soft click of the bedroom door.

“Hey hon,” Eddie hums, and Buck can feel him hover over the bed, hear him lean in for kiss with Tommy. “How’s he doing?”

“Fever broke,” Tommy says, the steady rhythm of his fingertips a familiar melody over the last day. “I called Dr. Graham’s office. They said to call back if he’s not feeling better in the next couple days.”

“When he’s up, I’ll give him a once-over,” Eddie says, and the soft care and quiet support mean more than either he or Tommy could possibly realize.

It’s that that lures Buck to finally open his eyes, grateful that the world doesn’t spin when he blinks up at the men he loves.

“Morning,” Tommy says, leaning over to kiss the top of Buck’s curls.

“Hi, baby,” Eddie says, sitting at Buck’s hip on the edge of the bed and leaning in for his own kiss. “Feeling better?”

“Mm,” Buck hums, curling closer to Tommy. “A little.”

“I’m gonna shower, and we can get some more sleep, yeah?”

Buck nods and Tommy adds, “I can make some breakfast. Maybe we can try toast today?”

When they both look at Buck, he sees it all. The years spent working towards something together, the love and affection tucked into every wrinkle, every laugh line deeper because of one another, every moment reflected on back at him.

“Yeah,” Buck says easily. “T-Thank you both.”

“No thanks needed,” Eddie says with a soft smile, then stands, heading to the bathroom. Surprised at his depleted energy, Buck can already feel his eyes getting heavy again.

“Get some more sleep,” Tommy tells him. “When Eddie comes back, I’ll get up.”

“Hm, love you,” Buck mutters as he drifts off once more.

And even if he doesn’t hear the words, he knows them to be true.