BambiAbi

“Buck, where are you going?”

Goddamn it. He was so close. Buck’s hand is actively around the brass handle of the bedroom door, with a pillow under his arm, and his brain is forcing the events of that evening as far back into the abyss as possible. He really thought he managed to get out of bed without waking Eddie up. He’s ex-military and a firefighter; of course he was going to wake up. To be fair, Buck 1.0 had mastered the art of sneaking out of rooms unnoticed. But it’s also been almost a decade; he’s a little rusty.

“Uh, I was just, um, uh.” It’s horrifying just how quickly Buck’s brain stops working when he hears Eddie’s sleepy voice.

“And don’t say bathroom, because if it were, you’d be down the hall already.” To be loved is to be known… Buck really wishes he didn’t read that tweet.

“I was, um, gonna go to the couch…?” He didn’t mean it as a question. It sounds just like one, though.

“Why?”

Buck’s not going to turn around. He’s not. He knows the moment he turns he’s going to see not only an adorably sleep-rumpled Eddie but also that damn pout that never fails to make Buck’s heart turn to goo, too. But he sounds so disappointed. No. Buck will not falter. He will make it to the couch. He will fix the situation in his heart. He will not let Eddie’s big brown eyes and puppy dog head tilt win him over. He simply will not.

“No reason. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” There, the perfect excuse.

“Why would I be uncomfortable?”

Shit.

“I know you wouldn’t be, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Buck,” There’s a shuffling of fabric. “I’m not uncomfortable…Are you?”

Shit.

Buck turns slightly, sees Eddie on the edge of the bed, cow eyes and head tilt fully on display, and turns right back around.

“No. Of course not. I was just being a good friend, y’know?” Buck cringes at his words. Being a good friend: his ass. He resolutely stares at the door, memorizing the pattern of the wood grain, while the soft sounds of Eddie’s footsteps float behind him.

Before he’s able to fully prepare himself, there’s a warmth on his back. Strong arms wrap around his waist, hands slipping under his shirt to rest on bare skin. It’s a hot California summer night, so he can’t even pretend to blame the shiver that runs up his spine on anything but the fact that the man he is head over heels in love with has his arms wrapped around him. And as if that wasn’t enough of a problem, there’s a gentle pressure and the scratch of stubble on the back of his neck.

“Then, come back to bed.” Buck freezes. This is not how any of this was supposed to go. Eddie’s voice is still raspy from sleep, and it’s right up against his ear. Even ignoring the very domestic sound of that statement, nothing about this situation reads as particularly straight best friend behavior; Eddie is one word away from begging Buck to stay. As if reading his mind and deciding this situation wasn’t confusing enough, Eddie lifts his head and places a small kiss on the back of Buck's neck. Just the slightest touch of lips to his skin. “Please?”

Buck is trying extremely hard not to envision that word leaving Eddie’s mouth in a very different context. He does anyway.

“O-okay, yeah. I'll—uh—yeah, sure.”

Eddie nuzzles into his neck, stubble scratching and nose brushing against his chin. His arms tighten and release as Eddie lets out a happy sigh.

“Good.”

Buck can feel the smile against his skin. He can’t even be embarrassed by the shiver anymore. He is embarrassed, but it’s for different reasons: the bright red blush he can sense clouding his face, how he tried to sneak out of his bedroom, and the fact that this entire situation happened because Buck lost his shit after watching The Exorcist.

All of those thoughts are blown out of the water when Eddie drags him backwards by the waist and onto the bed, Buck landing on Eddie’s lap as Eddie readjusts the blankets. Buck’s head is completely off. Not a single thought behind those eyes. Nothing but Eddie’s lap, Eddie’s arm around his waist, Eddie pulling him down onto his chest as he makes himself comfortable. After some extensive maneuvering, since Buck decided his limbs no longer needed to work, they're back-to-chest, legs intertwined, Eddie’s arms somehow still hooked around Buck’s waist, and Buck gripping his pillow for dear life.

He’s comfortable. Maybe he can do this; he’ll survive. He can let Eddie’s warmth surround him and pretend it’s something more. He can have this, even just for a bit.

~~~~~

He can’t do this. It’s 8:30 AM, and Buck just had the best sleep of his life. The sun is slipping through the blinds, golden light surrounding the room making everything look straight out of a dream.

At some point in the night, Buck flipped over, face to face with Eddie. This was a horrible turn of events, because now, the light makes Eddie look so soft and peaceful. He looks like the dead wife in movies; Buck probably shouldn’t use dead wives when referring to Eddie, but it’s the most fitting comparison.

The pocket under the covers is warm, Eddie has a sleepy smile on his face, Chris and Theo are surprisingly quiet, wherever they are, and the whole scene is disgustingly perfect. Buck is simultaneously the happiest and most terrified he’s ever been. It quickly turns to only terrified when Eddie opens an eye, and Buck realizes he’s been staring with probably the most in-love expression of all expressions at Eddie sleeping.

“Morning.” Jesus, Eddie’s morning voice is lethal.

“Morning.” Buck needs to reel it in. The one word is single-handedly keeping Hollywood romance alive. And because Eddie can’t let Buck win ever, he gives him the cutest smile and lifts his hand to pass his thumb over Buck’s birthmark.

“You’re pretty.” The universe must hate him, because how is he supposed to survive that? “I love you.”

What the actual fuck.

“What?”

“I love you.” Buck’s dead. There’s no way he just heard that.

“I’m dreaming.” He goes to pinch himself and is quickly stopped by Eddie's hand on his cheek.

“Nope.” He pops the p as if it's just a casual conversation between bros. “I can prove it to you.”

“I’m dreaming.” Words aren’t working. Not like they need to when Eddie is getting closer and pressing the softest kiss imaginable to his forehead.

“I love you.”

“Eds, would you,” Buck’s words are cut off with a throat-clenching gargle. “Would you kiss me?”

Eddie feels it like a punch to the gut, because of course he would. He would pour every ounce of himself into Buck. He would rip his heart out and sew it in himself if it meant Buck stayed alive.

 “I know you’re straight, and that’s the last thing you want right now, but I just- I need to know.” The soot covering his face is washed clean as tear after tear makes its way over his cheeks. “I need to know what it’s like when it’s someone you love.”

 Eddie can’t breathe. Whether it’s the smoke clawing through his lungs or the words floating into his ears, his lungs aren’t working anymore. He wants to say yes, of course, all the time, whenever you want me to, but all that comes out is a wrecked “Buck.”

“I know, I promise I know, but please.” Dios, the orange and blue swirling in his eyes is gorgeous. “I don’t wanna go without knowing.”

 “Buck.” It’s the only word Eddie can form at this point. Why would he need to say anything else when everything he’s ever wanted is pouring out thick and red between his palms? Everything he’s convinced himself he didn’t deserve is lying in front of him, begging for the one thing Eddie so desperately wants to give.

“Please.”

“Evan, I’ll give you everything, anything you want, you just have to stay.” Eddie can’t feel his legs anymore. Distantly, he knows that’s not good, that if he starts losing feeling, he starts losing life, but none of that matters. Not when Buck is- he’s- it just doesn’t matter.

“I’m trying.” 

“I know you are, I know,” One of his hands comes up to wipe away the tears adorning Buck’s face. He can see the fire in the reflections. The other pushes deeper into the wound, but Buck doesn’t so much as flinch. Not good. Very not good. “You’re doing so good, Buck, you’re so good.”

Buck smiles. Soft, private, devastating. His head lulls slightly into Eddie’s palm. It’s so cold. Buck always runs cold.

 “You just gotta hold on so I can love you right. Can you do that for me? Can you let me love you?” Eddie’s crying. Harder than he ever has in front of someone. The panic has dissolved into pure salt through his veins, sucking every inch of feeling out of his mind that isn’t pain and suffering and love.

  “I can do that,” Buck is barely whispering now, crackled and covered in blood. He knows Eddie doesn’t mean it the same way, but he can close his eyes and pretend. “Anything for you.”

 The walls are melting, orange and black around them, turning into white. The red has bled through Buck’s turnouts, the radios are in shambles, and Eddie can’t feel anything anymore. So he leans down, presses his forehead to Buck’s with enough force to bruise. He doesn’t let up, and Buck doesn’t complain. “Anything for you.” Eddie echoes, hoping that somehow he can force every emotion, every memory, every morsel of want he has into those words.

The first press of lips to his forehead is rough with chapped lips, tears, and soot, but it’s so achingly tender that Buck feels himself crack in a way no physical pain can replicate. A wave of pure love is flowing into him. He feels his chest compress further. The next kiss to his brow shatters his arms. The kiss to his cheek squeezes his stomach. And the gentle brush to his mouth ruins his soul for anyone else. It’s the worst thing he’s ever felt, the most love he’s ever received, the biggest pain of his life, and it’s perfect.

        “I love you.”

        “I love you too.”

Buck doesn’t know who said it first, but it’s out there— consumed by flame, sanctified by divine light. Pure and destructive. He’s so full of warmth it burns. He never wants it to stop, but his energy is depleting, and the white hurts his eyes. It’s cold, but Eddie’s palm against his cheek is warm. The pressure against his forehead keeps his eyes open. He wishes he could see Eddie’s. God, the amber and brown swirling in his eyes is gorgeous. “Now we know.”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

“Hey Eds? Can I see your eyes one more time?” They’re so beautiful, melting chocolate and golden flakes. This close, the hidden greens and the red from the flames sparkle against each other like bursts in a dark sky. “So pretty.” Even wet with tears and filled with sorrow, they’re a comfort in his final breaths. He hears his name a few times, muffled and sobbed out, but he can’t seem to stop his eyes from falling shut.

        ~~~~~~

Another kiss to his brow shocks Buck out of a sleep he didn’t know he was in. The lights around him are brighter than before, and the beeping is so loud. Memory after memory slams into him as the pain flicks on limb by limb. Hip, ribs, wrist, neck, ribs. He hears himself screaming. Hears the voices, clipped and forcefully calm, swirling around him. He feels hands come up around his head, a cold string around his neck, and another brush to his forehead. The screaming turns to wrecked sobs. He falls back under.

~~~~~~

The moment they took Buck into the ambulance, Eddie collapsed. Sprawled on the road, out cold, and nearly trampled as people ran to help triage. He doesn’t remember how he got out- his body shut down the moment Buck closed his eyes. He can see snapshots of flashlights and compressions. He can hear the orders being called around him. He can feel the hands ripping him off and prodding at his body. But Eddie doesn’t know any of it. The soldier, a calm-under-pressure version of Eddie, left as soon as he couldn’t see his favorite color.

He’s still on the ground when he comes to, surrounded by two unfamiliar paramedics and a carefully blank Chimney shining a light in his face. He can feel his legs again, which would have been a good thing if it weren’t for the screeching pain radiating from them. His head isn’t on right, and words are filtering through his head without recognition. Something’s wrong, that much is obvious, but there’s a nagging at the back of his head. Ignoring the very insistent noises coming from someone, he reaches a hand to his throat and immediately sinks into fear. His necklace is gone.

Seemingly dozens of hands are shoving him back down the moment he forces himself up. They hit against his chest and arms, unrelenting and fierce. His back hits the asphalt with a thud; the pain that lights up his spine is shoved to the side as thought after thought rushes through without permission.

Where’s Chris? Why is it gone? Where’s Buck? Why am I here? Where’s the ambulance? Is Buck in a hospital?  Why am I not with him?

He must’ve said something out loud, because with startling clarity, Chim’s voice cuts through.

“We’re trying to get you to the hospital, but you need to calm down first.”