Chapter Text
“Are you sure you want me to come?” Buck asks, sat at the kitchen table.
Panic claws at Eddie’s throat. “You don’t want to come?”
Buck softens. “Of course I want to come,” he murmurs, reaching across the table to cover Eddie’s shaking hands with his own. “But it’s okay if you want to do this alone, alright?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No.”
This is nerve-wracking enough as it is, and the thought of doing this without Buck, he-he can’t-
“Okay,” Buck agrees with a reassuring smile, halting the panic in its tracks. “I’ll come. You know I will.”
“I can’t do this alone,” Eddie says hoarsely, the words wrenched from the depths of his heart.
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Buck says, voice wavering. His eyes are so steady on Eddie’s face. “I’ve got your back. I promise. You know I do.”
Eddie breathes shakily, gripping onto Buck’s warm hands like a lifeline. “I’m so scared,” Eddie whispers, screwing his eyes shut.
“I know,” Buck says quietly, his voice shaking. “I’m scared shitless too.”
He sweeps his thumb on Eddie’s knuckles, soothing. “But he called, Eddie. He misses you and he wants to come home. That’s not nothing.”
Eddie breathes shakily. “I can’t fuck this up again, Buck,” he says quietly, and he can feel Buck’s touch stutter against his skin. “I can’t.”
“You won’t,” Buck says gently, and he sounds so sure. Eddie wants to curl up on the cold kitchen tile and never get back up, because he doesn’t deserve Buck’s faith. “I promise. You won’t.”
Eddie’s too anxious to argue. He lets Buck’s words wash over him, letting the smooth murmur of his voice steady his bones a little. You have to believe me, Buck had begged that night, when Eddie had locked himself in the bathroom. Eddie, he’ll come back. Please. You have to believe me.
“I’ll get started on the packing,” Buck says quietly. “Do you want to help?”
Eddie’s eyes flutter open. Buck’s eyes are soft, soft on him, hands curled protectively over Eddie’s trembling ones.
“Y-yeah,” Eddie clears his throat. He needs to get his mind off the fact that he’s going to fucking Texas. “Yeah, I’ll help.”
Buck gives him a small smile. “Come on,” he says, standing up and pulling Eddie to his feet.
Eddie takes a steadying breath, letting it expand in his lungs, and puts one foot in front of the other, following Buck.
God. They’re going to fucking Texas.
three hours ago
Eddie startles awake, the nightmare just receding from his vision. Lightning and rain and flashes of red, Christopher-
The phone vibrates off the night table, and Eddie dives to catch it, reflexes sharp even in the dead of the night.
Christopher’s contact lights up the phone. It’s one in the morning. Eddie panics, swiping to answer the phone.
“Christopher?” he asks, voice shaking. “Baby, are you alright?”
“You’re so mad at me you can’t even call?” Christopher asks angrily through the phone, his voice wobbling. Fuck. He’s been crying. Eddie swears softly, flicking on the lamp.
“Baby-”
“I’ve been here a month, Dad, and you-you haven’t even called or texted-” Christopher’s voice catches, and he coughs, breaths rattling in his chest. God, his voice. Eddie’s missed him so much and wants to hug him so badly it hurts like a fucking bullet through his heart.
“Christopher. Breathe.” Eddie says firmly, because he doesn’t want his son to have a fucking panic attack eight hundred miles away when Eddie isn’t there to hold him. Christopher inhales shakily, audible through the fucking phone. Fuck.
“Good job, baby,” Eddie says, putting the phone on speaker. The sheets are twisted around him, his feet tangled in the duvet. “Again. One breath in, one breath out.”
“Why aren’t you here?” Christopher’s voice shakes. “I fucked up so bad you don’t even want me now?”
“What?” Eddie asks, voice breaking, running his hands through his hair. “Baby, where is this coming from?”
“Abuela said that you’d finally learned your lesson, and that you’re not going to keep fighting for me anymore. S’that true?” Christopher asks, and he sounds so small.
Eddie is going to kill his mother.
“That is not true,” Eddie says, calm as he can when rage and sorrow are coursing through his blood. “Have I ever made you feel like that?”
“You haven’t called me once,” Christopher’s voice breaks.
Eddie’s heart twists painfully. “I’ve tried, baby,” Eddie murmurs softly, aching all over. “You’d blocked my number. Calls don’t come through when you do that.”
“So?” Christopher says angrily, and Eddie can picture him so clearly, his face flushed red with anger, his curls sticking up all over his head. God. “Abuela’s phone is right there. Abuelo’s phone is right there. There’s a stupid landline, Dad.”
“I’ve called every single one of them, baby. Abuela always told me you didn’t want to talk, or that you weren’t at home,” Eddie says, but he gets the sinking feeling that’s not true. “She never told you I called?” Eddie asks quietly, voice breaking.
Christopher sniffles angrily. “No.”
“Fuck,” Eddie says, choked. How the fuck can his mother be this cruel?
“I called so many times,” Eddie says desperately, because Christopher doesn’t know. God, has Christopher been thinking Eddie gave up on him all this time?
“She never told me,” Christopher says, sounding confused. “Why would she do that?”
Because she wants nothing more in this world than to rip the two of us away from each other.
“I don’t know,” Eddie says instead, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Christopher says shakily, some of the anger creeping back in. “Did I really fuck up so bad that you never want to see me again?”
Eddie’s heart makes a valiant effort to stop dead in his chest. “Baby,” Eddie says, horrified, tears spilling down his cheeks. “No. Never. I promise.”
“Then why aren’t you here,” Christopher’s voice breaks, and he sounds so lost. Pain pierces Eddie’s ribs like a red-hot knife. “It’s been a month and I hate it here, everything’s so fucking hot, Dad.”
“I know,” Eddie says, voice breaking. He aches.
“I don’t like Abuela’s cooking and I miss mom and I miss you and I want to talk to Buck and I want to come home,” Christopher starts crying. “I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“Baby,” Eddie says desperately. He takes the phone off speaker and curls it close around his ear, like he can get closer to his son somehow. “Christopher. You didn’t fuck up. It’s not your fault, baby.”
“I heard Abuela say that you never wanted to be a father,” Christopher sniffles. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” Eddie chokes, horrified. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with his mother? “That’s not true, sweetheart. I promise. Can you please take a breath for me?”
“No,” Christopher stutters, petulant. Eddie’s so fucking relieved that he’s being sassy. “You’re not here.”
“I’d be right there this second if I could, you know that,” Eddie says desperately, screwing his eyes shut. It’s killing him, not being able to hold Christopher in his arms. “Please. Take a breath.”
Eddie knows Christopher scowls angrily, even if they can’t see each other, but he does as Eddie asks. It’s one in the morning, and Eddie’s trying to stop his son from spiraling from eight hundred fucking miles away. He’s never hated himself more than this moment.
Christopher’s breathing evens out through the phone, and some of the strangling panic leaves Eddie’s system. “Good job, baby,” Eddie whispers. “D’you have water next to you?”
“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’ll drink.”
Eddie wants to ruffle his hair, and curls his fingers harder around the phone to stop the heartache from choking him alive. “Please.”
Eddie hears him unscrew a bottle, the metal ones that his mother’s been using for years now. God forbid she change one fucking thing in her life.
“Where’s Buck?” Christopher asks, once he finishes downing half the bottle.
“At the loft,” Eddie says, missing him like an ache. God. He wants his boys here, under his roof, safe and sound. Not this.
“I blocked his number too,” Christopher says, voice small. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Eddie says quietly, pain flaring through his ribs at the reminder. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Buck’s devastated face when he found out. “I know.”
“I’m sorry.” Eddie hears the crickets chirping through the phone, louder than they should be.
He frowns. “Where are you?”
“Out on the porch,” Christopher says tiredly. “Your room’s boring, Dad.”
Eddie chokes on a laugh. “You’ve been staying in my room?”
“Yeah,” Christopher mumbles. “Abuela’s redoing the guest rooms, and she’s weird about anyone going into Adriana and Sophia’s room.”
Eddie’s heart seizes at the mention of his sisters. He hasn’t heard from them in years. “I know,” he says quietly, trying to breathe through the pain. He misses them.
“I’m really sorry, Dad,” Christopher says, a little while later. “I really am.”
“Me too, baby,” Eddie says, eyes fluttering shut. God, this fucking hurts. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I want to come home,” Christopher’s voice shakes, but he braves on. “I miss you. I miss Buck.”
“We miss you too, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, pressing the phone closer to his cheek. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Will you come?’ Christopher asks desperately. “Please?”
Eddie’s heart stops dead in his chest. “You want me to come pick you up?” He asks, voice breaking. “From Texas?”
“Please,” Christopher begs, and Eddie starts crying. “I want to come home.”
“Yeah,” Eddie babbles. “I’m coming, shit, I’ll be there tonight, baby, I promise,” Eddie swears, throwing himself out the bed.
“Thank you,” Christopher mumbles, but Eddie can hear the hint of a smile in his words. God.
“I need you to do something,” Eddie asks, desperately, standing in the middle of his bedroom, in a house that’s been empty and clean for far too long. “I need you to listen. Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” Christopher breathes through the phone. He sounds exhausted.
“I’ll be there tonight, I swear, but you cannot tell anyone. You can’t tell Abuela or Abuelo that I’m coming. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Why?” Christopher asks, confused. Eddie’s heart breaks, and he doesn’t want to rip away the last bit of his innocence, but he has to.
“Because they’ll fight like hell to take you away from me,” Eddie says, the words like ash on his tongue. “I don’t know what they’ll do, but I know it won’t be pretty. You have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Oh,” Christopher says, shocked. “Shit.”
“Do you understand?” Eddie asks, desperately. “Christopher?”
“Yeah,” Christopher says, sounding stunned. “Fucking hell.”
“Language,” Eddie chides, but he’s so fucking relieved. “I miss you. I’ll see you very soon, okay?”
“Okay,” Christopher yawns. Eddie loves him so much it feels like he’s going to fucking die with it. “Goodnight, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby,” Eddie says, hoarsely. He’s begged and pleaded with a God that he doesn’t believe in to just get to say those words to his son again. “I love you so much.”
“I know,” Christopher yawns, and he hears the creak of the wooden porch as Christopher stands up. “I’m going to bed now. You’ll be here tonight?” Christopher asks again, a little uncertain.
“I swear,” Eddie promises again. There’s no way in hell that Eddie isn’t going to be there tonight. “Go back to sleep, baby. I love you.”
“Love you,” Christopher says, the door swinging closed softly behind him. Eddie hears the floors creaking under his step as he makes his way across the ground floor, to Eddie’s old room. “Goodnight.”
He hears Christopher shuffle underneath the covers, and he can picture it so clearly: the bare walls of his old room, the moonlight pouring in through the window overlooking the backyard. Christopher asleep in the tiny twin bed Eddie outgrew at fifteen, his glasses on the night table.
“Love you,” Eddie murmurs, but Christopher’s already asleep, snoring softly.
Eddie’s dialing Buck before he even thinks about it.
“It’s an eleven-hour drive, but I’m pretty sure it’ll take us twelve,” Buck says, voice muffled as he raids through Eddie’s closet. “It’s pretty hot this time of year over at El Paso, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, distractedly. He stares at his phone, at Christopher’s text.
i haven’t told anyone, but holy shit dad
i didn’t know abuela’d do that
have you guys left yet
?????
Eddie fires off a reply in seconds. Ravi’d be proud.
Yeah, neither did I. Be safe, honey. Thank you for not telling anyone.
Buck and I are packing now. We’ll leave in an hour.
Christopher sends back a thumbs-up.
“I told him we’d leave in an hour,” Eddie chews on his lip. He’s sat on the bed because Buck took one look at his trembling body and told him to sit the fuck down, Eddie, or I swear to God.
“That works,” Buck agrees, and he turns around, a pile of Eddie’s clothes in his arms. His eyes soften. “He texted you?”
“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs with an aching smile. “Yeah. Just now.”
“Eddie. Holy shit,” Buck says, and he sounds so fucking giddy with happiness.
“Buck,” Eddie’s voice catches, and he wants to tell him a thousand things that won’t fall from his lips. “Buck, I-”
“I know,” Buck says gently, eyes alight with quiet understanding. “I know, I promise.”
Eddie bites his lip, heart racing. Buck, the brilliant, brilliant human that he is, senses that Eddie’s fucking struggling and gives him a way out.
“Where are the duffel bags?” he asks, dumping the pile of clothes on Eddie’s bed. Buck’s the one who arranged that closet last fall, and he’s the only one who knows where everything in this house seems to be. Eddie’s heart warms, because he’s somehow found a way to give Eddie a break without ever fucking addressing it. God. The thing’s he’d do for this man.
“In the closet,” he says quietly, so fucking thankful for Buck. “I’ll go get them.”
Buck’s eyes crinkle. “Okay.”
Eddie brushes against his shoulder as he leaves, and hopes that touch says everything he can’t. Buck’s breathing stutters, and Eddie trips over his own feet as he walks away.
He takes a minute to breathe as he hunts for the duffel bags in the closet past his bedroom. He’s going to Texas. They’re going to Texas. Christopher misses him and he wants to come home. Fuck.
He’s had hours to process all of this but it still feels so unreal, like all of it is a dream he’s going to be rudely awaken from. It’s not, Buck had reminded him when Eddie’d stuttered through his panic. I promise, it’s not.
He leans against the wall, screwing his eyes shut and just breathing.
They’re going to Texas.
Buck’s folded all the clothes they’re bringing into neat piles on the bed when Eddie eventually makes it back to the bedroom, duffel bags in hand.
“I’m borrowing some of your clothes,” Buck says, when his eyes land on Eddie. “We don’t have enough time to go back to the loft.” His cheeks are flushed a faint pink.
“Okay,” Eddie agrees, because half his closet is Buck’s at this point. “What else do we need?”
“Can you pack toiletries?” Buck asks, grabbing the bags from Eddie’s hands. “I should be done with these in a few minutes.”
Eddie nods, heading towards the bathroom. He doesn’t even want to think about what the fuck he would’ve done if he didn’t have Buck.
He’s so, so fucking glad he never has to.
Half an hour later, Eddie’s locking the front door as Buck loads the car with all the luggage.
“Yes, Bobby,” Buck’s saying, phone held between the curve of his shoulder and his cheek. “Yes, I’ll drive slow. No, we’re going to eat on the way.”
“Tell him I’ll send the leave request in an hour,” Eddie reminds him over his shoulder.
“Eddie’s going to send the leave requests in an hour,” Buck says, giving Eddie a thumbs up as he tries to fit the picnic basket into the backseat. “Oh. Huh. Thanks, Bobby,” Buck says, quietly.
Eddie finishes locking the door, double-checking that the spare key is still hidden inside the pot, and walks down the porch steps, heading towards the car. “All done,” he tells Buck, handing him the blankets and the pillows to shove into the backseat. Buck’s never been a light packer, and they might have gone a little insane in their elation that Christopher’s finally coming home.
“Bye Bobby,” Buck says, disconnecting the call. “I promise we’ll drive safe.”
“What’d he say?” Eddie asks, watching the way Buck’s muscles move as he tries to fit their ridiculous amount of luggage into the car. They’re not taking the Jeep, because that thing is in no way comfortable enough for a twelve-hour drive. Chimney came over to drop Maddie’s car on the way to work a few minutes ago, hugging them both in congratulations. “Be safe,” he’d yelled out the window of the Uber. “Tell Christopher we all love him!”
They’d all laughed, finally fucking relieved. The clouds parted, sun shining all over their bleak lives, all that. Eddie’s too high-strung to think of an apt metaphor.
“Bobby?” Buck asks, bringing him back to the present. “Made me swear a hundred times that we’d drive safe and slow, made me promise to tell Christopher we all love him and that he’d already filed the leave request.”
“How’d he do that?” Eddie asks, confused. He hands Buck the last bag, fingers brushing against his. “Did you call him earlier?”
Buck flushes. “No, um. He, uh, he said it was only a matter of time before we drove to Texas, and he, um. He’d had the papers ready.”
Heat floods Eddie’s cheeks. “Good man,” he says hoarsely, ducking his head.
“Yeah,” Buck agrees, blushing equally as hard. “Um. Shall we?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. The space between them goes taut with a hundred things they don’t say.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, stepping back. “You’ll drive?”
“Don’t I always?” Buck teases, walking around to the driver’s seat.
“We’ll take shifts,” Eddie scowls at him, sliding into the passenger seat. “There’s no way I’m letting you drive all the way there.”
“Promises, promises,” Buck says airily, as he backs out of the driveway. Eddie’s breath dies in his throat as Buck puts the gear in reverse, his hand sliding around the back of Eddie’s seat, the other curled around the steering wheel. He’s watched Buck do this a hundred times, and he’s always fucking starstruck by it.
“We need to get gas,” Buck says, flicking on the AC. “Plus, we’re pretty early so traffic shouldn’t be too bad. Oh, and we can have breakfast at that place I was telling you about, it’s maybe a fifteen-minute detour, Eddie, but the fucking reviews, I swear-”
“Thank you,” Eddie interrupts him, curling his fingers over Buck where they’re cupping the gear. “For everything.”
Buck’s cheeks turn pink so quickly it’s a crime. “You’re welcome, Eds,” he murmurs, looking at Eddie for as long as he can before he has to face the road again. “I’ve got your back.”
“I know,” Eddie says quietly, facing out the window. The streets fly past him in a blur, the morning sun breaking through gently through the clouds. “I know.”
three hours in
“I want to eat that sandwich again,” Eddie says wistfully, kicking his feet up on the dash. “I want to marry that sandwich.”
“Eddie,” Buck groans, throwing his head back against the headrest. “Come on. I just stopped thinking about it.”
“I’ll never forget that sandwich,” Eddie mourns. “It melted in my mouth, Buck.”
“I know,” Buck says, switching to the fourth gear. “God. It’s forty miles away from the firehouse, but Jesus Christ. I’d suffer through traffic every single day to eat that sandwich.”
“We’re going there anytime we have a Saturday off,” Eddie resolves. “We’ll leave early and get to that goddamn restaurant, Buck, I cannot forget that sandwich.”
“Next time we’ll try the croissants,” Buck agrees gamely.
“There were croissants?” Eddie says in disbelief. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Buck’s eyes widen. “Um.”
“Betrayed,” Eddie glares at Buck. There were croissants. Eddie loves croissants. Buck knows Eddie loves croissants. “Betrayal of the highest degree, Buck, I swear to God.”
“M’sorry,” Buck says sheepishly. “I forgot.”
“Liar,” Eddie shakes his head. “You know I love croissants.”
“My brain functions deceased the second that sandwich was in my mouth, Eds,” Buck says, shrugging. “I can’t be held responsible for that.”
“Oh, you can,” Eddie says darkly, turning the radio up all the way. Buck groans as the shitty pop song fills the car, and Eddie grins in smug satisfaction.
“Eddie, this is torture,” Buck groans, glaring at him in disgust. “At least switch the fucking station!”
“No can do, Buckley,” Eddie shrugs, batting away Buck’s hands when he tries to turn the dial. “You made your choice.”
“Oh my god,” Buck groans. “Jesus. You’re not going to let this go until I take you back and buy the fucking croissants, are you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Eddie informs. “Eyes on the road, Buck. We have the rest of the Top 50 to get through.”
“I hate you,” Buck says mournfully.
Eddie laughs in answer.
five hours in
“Coffee break?” Eddie asks, when Buck yawns for the fifth time in ten minutes. “There’s a rest stop coming up.”
“Yeah,” Buck agrees, blinking heavily. “Sorry.”
“You’ve been driving for three hours, Buck. Let me take over.”
“You hate driving,” Buck says, yawning again. He scowls, betrayed by his own exhaustion. “Jesus.”
“I can handle driving for a few hours, Buck. Come on.”
Buck, too exhausted to argue, takes the next exit. They’re rolling into the rest stop a few minutes later, Buck looking like hell run over in the driver’s seat. Eddie’s a little worried.
“Freshen up,” Eddie tells him, unlocking both their seatbelts. “I’ll buy coffee.”
“And a coke,” Buck says, getting out of the car. He groans as he stretches, his t-shirt riding up his stomach. Eddie can see the dusting of golden hair, trailing down his navel, under his-
He averts his gaze, flushing.
“Copy that,” he mumbles, and bolts.
Fifteen minutes later, Eddie is in possession of three takeout coffees, one litre of coke and six water bottles. And three bags of crisps, two packets of candy and a cookie-brownie thing.
Buck raises his eyebrows as Eddie makes his way back to the car. “In my defense,” Eddie starts, but Buck laughs.
“Hand ‘em over,” Buck drawls, looking better now that he’s got some fresh air. His curls are loose, falling over his forehead. He looks lighter than he has in the past month, and if Eddie looked at his reflection, he’s sure he’ll find the same.
God. Christopher’s coming back home, and Eddie finally feels something other than pure fucking despair. It still feels unreal.
Eddie hands him the coffee, dumping the rest of the contents into the picnic basket.
“How far away are we?” Buck asks, sipping his coffee.
“Five hundred miles or so,” Eddie says, sipping his own coffee. It’s shit, but it’s also great at the same time. “We should be there by eight.”
Buck hums, leaning against the car. He looks good like this, in Eddie’s black t-shirt and those fucking grey sweatpants. Eddie has half a mind to burn them, the way they sinfully hug every inch of Buck’s legs.
“We’ve been on the road since five,” Eddie says. “How’s your leg?”
Buck smiles, a soft thing. “Fine. Hasn’t flared up.” He ducks his head, sipping from the shitty paper cup.
“I can’t wait to see him,” Eddie murmurs, because he feels safe enough to say it out loud, finally. Here, in a deserted rest stop a hundred miles away from home, with only the cars passing the highway for company. It doesn’t feel like he’ll jinx it, somehow.
“Me too,” Buck says roughly. “God. It’s been so fucking long.”
“Longer than I ever want to go again,” Eddie mutters. “Can’t believe I fucked up things so badly, but. I can.”
“Maybe,” Buck agrees, tilting his head. “But I think both of you learned a lot of painful lessons on the way. I don’t think either of you are ever going to make the same mistakes again.”
“You think?” Eddie asks roughly, because Buck’s faith in him is something so vast, something so all-encompassing it’s hard to breathe around it more often than not.
“I know,” Buck corrects. “You were both hurting, Eddie. You have a lot of conversations left to have with him, but. He wants to come home. That means you haven’t fucked it all to hell.”
Eddie’s so overwhelmed with something his knees go shaky with it. He tips forward into Buck, his head hitting Buck’s shoulder. “Easy,” Buck murmurs, curving his free hand around Eddie’s back. “Easy.”
“Thank you for being here,” Eddie says, something desperate in those words. “For-for everything-”
“Easy,” Buck says softly. “You know I’ve always got your back.”
Eddie breathes him in, the faint smell of the car-refresher Maddie uses and the laundry detergent that costs way more than it should but Buck buys it anyway because Christopher gets itchy otherwise, and something so Buck that it’s impossible to ever forget him.
The three words he’s kept pressed behind his teeth for years beg to be let free, but Eddie pays them no heed. He’s pretty sure Buck knows anyway.
eight hours in
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Buck says, shuffling so he’s curled towards Eddie in the passenger seat. Eddie’s always a little tense when he’s driving, so he doesn’t look over.
“Yeah?” Eddie says, looking at him for a second before he looks back at the road again. The radio plays softly in the background.
“Did you and Shannon live with your parents after Christopher was born?” Buck asks quietly. There’s no judgement in his voice.
Eddie lets out a breath. “Yes and no,” he says. “We, um. We moved to a house three houses down from my parents a month before he was born. Mom wanted the both of us to move in her house, and Shannon was adamant that we have our own place. There were a lot of screaming matches involved, but we finally reached a compromise. My Dad was ready to tear his out by the end of it,” Eddie says softly, heart aching when he remembers just how much fight Shannon had.
“That’s nice,” Buck says, softly.
“It was,” Eddie murmurs, remembering that tiny house. Two bedrooms, one bath, and one kitchen. A backyard. “I loved that house.”
“Have you been back there?” Buck asks.
Eddie smiles sadly. “No. I put it up for sale after we moved to Los Angeles.”
“I’m sorry,” Buck says. Eddie can feel his eyes on the sides of his face but he doesn’t look back at him.
“My mother always thought Shannon and I were wrong for each other,” Eddie says, after a while.
Buck doesn’t say anything, letting him continue. Eddie looks over at him, at the sunlight that makes his curls look more golden than usual. His blue eyes seem depthless in the afternoon sun. Eddie gets lost in them for a second, and rips his gaze away, staring furiously at the white and yellow lines on the road.
“Were you?” Buck asks after a while, when Eddie doesn’t say anything.
“Not in the ways that mattered,” Eddie says softly. “But everything changed us, I think. Maybe we’d have worked if we didn’t live under our parents thumb the entire fuckin’ time.”
His accent slips out, this close to home. It’s like his body recognizes where he is. Eddie’s not sure if he likes it or not. It’s familiar, and that’s the most dangerous thing Eddie can think of.
Eddie inhales shakily. “She had post-partum depression,” he says quietly. Buck startles. “I hate that I couldn’t give her the support she needed.”
“You did the best you could,” Buck says quietly. “You both were kids, Eddie.”
“I know,” Eddie says. Endless hours of therapy with Frank have finally taught him that. “I know.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Christopher?” Buck asks gently. “When he asks about Shannon again?”
“No,” Eddie admits, honest. “It still feels raw.”
Buck bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything, giving Eddie time to fumble through his messy thoughts.
“He was a kid, Buck. He remembers her so innocently.” Eddie says, voice breaking. “I don’t know if I’m ready to shatter that.”
“Maybe,” Buck says. “But he deserves the truth, Eddie. He’s not a kid anymore, as much as we hate it.”
“I know,” Eddie says, breathing shakily. “I know.”
“You can’t let her keep haunting you,” Buck says, leaning over the console to curl his fingers around Eddie’s trembling hands. “She’d hate that, from everything I know about her. You have to let her go.”
Buck’s staring at him with something desperate in his eyes. His fingers are curled around Eddie’s tightly, like he’s begging him to understand.
“I know,” Eddie’s voice breaks, and he links his pinkie with Buck, a desperate promise he’ll fight like hell to keep. “I know. I will.”
Buck inhales shakily, but he doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.
twelve hours in
Buck’s been asleep in the passenger seat for hours now. He’s been tired, all of the emotional weight catching up to him, Eddie knows that.
Eddie’s also vibrating the fuck out of his skin. They’re ten miles away from his house. A twenty-minute drive at best. His baby’s twenty minutes away, and so is his mother. They’re twenty minutes away.
His hands are shaking and it’s getting harder to breathe, and his vision’s going all hazy-
Fuck. He’s having a panic attack. Eddie blinks furiously, breathing through his open mouth and gets off the fucking road. He doesn’t want to get into a fucking accident. He hits the brakes a little too hard, the entire car jolting, and Buck startles awake.
“Eddie?” he slurs, blinking awake.
Eddie grips the steering wheel so hard the leather starts crumbling. His seatbelt feels like it’s choking him alive but he can’t let go of the wheel, he can’t-
Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie. It took me the better part of my life to learn to listen to my son. Don’t make the same mistakes, Eddie. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie. Don’t drag him down with you Eddie.
All the breath leaves his lungs. He tries to get a breath down but he’s panicking, and it feels like the pressure’s fucking suffocating him, he needs to get out of this car-
“Eddie, hey,” Buck says, anxiously. He unbuckles Eddie’s seatbelt with clumsy hands, his hands coming up to squeeze Eddie’s neck. “Hey. Breathe.”
“I can’t,” Eddie chokes, pressing his forehead against the wheel. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”
Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.
“You can,” Buck says firmly, and he shuffles so he’s sitting half across the console and half in Eddie’s seat. It’s got to be uncomfortable as hell, the gear and the handbrake digging into his skin, and Eddie wants to apologize but he can’t fucking breathe. His vision goes black around the corners.
“Here,” Buck says, and he throws an arm around him. His body blankets Eddie, and that’s the only thing keeping him grounded to the present. “Can you feel me breathe?”
Eddie must nod, but he can’t feel it. His body feels numb and his head is pounding and he still can’t fucking breathe.
“In,” Buck says slowly, ribs expanding against Eddie’s back. His hand is still cupping Eddie’s neck, the other fisted tightly into Eddie’s shirt, right over his waist. “Out.”
“In,” Buck says again, and this time Eddie manages to keep a breath down for a few seconds. “Out.”
They stay like that for God knows how long, Buck curled over him protectively, Eddie trying to get his body to fucking breathe, trying to listen to Buck’s soothing words, his voice sending soothing shivers all through Eddie’s body.
He screws his eyes shut, trying to ground himself back to the present.
Warmth floods back to his body minutes, hours, days later. He can feel Buck all around him, trembling fingers rubbing gentle circles into Eddie’s skin. His body must be cramping from the uncomfortable position, but he’s here.
“Buck,” Eddie’s voice breaks. “Buck.”
“I’m here,” Buck soothes, still breathing with Eddie. “I’m here.”
Eddie screws his eyes shut, leaning back against Buck. He moves easily, never letting go of Eddie as he shifts into a more comfortable position. “I’m right here.”
“I’m fucking terrified,” Eddie stutters through the panic, taking his hands off the wheel to curl them around Buck’s arm thrown across his chest. Buck digs his fingers right over Eddie’s heart, grounding him. “I’m so fucking scared.”
“I know,” Buck says, fingers as steady as they’re trembling. “I know.”
“She didn’t even tell him I called, Buck,” Eddie’s voice crumbles like ashes in the wind. “All those times, and she never told him.”
Don't drag him down.
Buck inhales sharply. “Your mother’s a bitch,” he says calmly. “And your son loves you. He’s waiting for you, and he knows you love him. Your bitch of a mother won’t, and cannot change that.”
“It’s going to be hell when she sees me,” Eddie says, turning his head to look at him. Buck’s so close he can see the way his pupils are blown wide, eyes flitting all over Eddie’s face.
“Yeah,” Buck murmurs. “Hate’s definitely not a strong enough word for what I feel for your mother.”
Eddie’s lips wobble. He pats the side of Buck’s face clumsily with a hand that doesn’t quite feel like his. “Thank you for having my back.”
Buck nuzzles into the touch, his stubble scraping against Eddie’s palm. “Always.”
Eddie stays like that for a few minutes, until almost a hundred cars have passed by them. He breathes in shakily, trying to steady himself with the quiet hammer of Buck’s pulse against his palm.
“I’m okay,” he says quietly, curling his palm around Buck’s face a little desperately before he makes himself let go. “I’m okay.”
“Okay,” Buck agrees, watching Eddie like his fucking life depends on it. It warms Eddie all the way down to his bones. “Okay.”
“Will you drive,” Eddie asks, refusing to let himself hide himself away from Buck. The vulnerability prickles uncomfortably all over his skin, but he ignores it. “I don’t think I can.”
“Yeah, of course,” Buck murmurs, gently. He taps his fingers thrice over Eddie’s heart before he pulls away, slowly. Eddie’s heart skips a beat in time with those three taps.
“Thank you,” Eddie whispers quietly. He squeezes Buck’s hands thrice before he lets go, because he’s got to say those three words somehow. He doesn’t know how to go a single day without it.
“Always,” Buck says softly, but it feels like he’s answering to Eddie’s unspoken confession.
Eddie just leans against him, borrowing some of his strength. He’s going to need it.
Buck brings the car to a gentle stop right outside Eddie’s house, fifteen minutes later.
“You ready?” Buck asks, turning off the ignition. He turns to face Eddie, his cheeks flushed with the evening heat. Eddie can see his pulse hammering away at his throat, and he wants to put his fingers over it.
“No,” Eddie murmurs. He breathes deeply. “But yeah. Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Buck bites his lip, but Eddie can see the quiet happiness in the corners of his eyes. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Fuck,” Eddie chokes, and pulls his phone out to text Christopher.
We’re here, he sends just as they get down from the car.
His bedroom light flicks on.
✦