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Admitting it terrifies him but in the privacy of his own thoughts Buck finds himself hating his scars. The first version of him – Buck 1.0, he bitterly calls him – would have loved the attention that came from them, would have taken photos and flexed them to every partner he took. This version of himself covers them up as much as he can now. He’s grateful most of the prominent ones lie underneath short sleeves and uniforms. He doesn’t like to admit to himself the reason why he avoids looking at them.
So when the sexy fireman calendar comes back around… Buck doesn’t apply. He jokes with the team that he will – he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t, and he didn’t want to bring their attention to that – but when the time comes around to apply, Buck looks at the list of photos that his friends had sent him to put in and he simply exits the tab.
Maybe he should have known that his team would find out anyway, but in the moment Buck had looked down at himself and remembered what he saw beneath the muscle and the surface aesthetic (sue him, he worked hard for this body). He hated the idea of anyone scrutinising the scars that covered him – the red marks permanently crossing his shoulder and chest from the lightning, the obvious marks from his leg being crushed from both just the crush in general and the surgery after surgery leaving it a stark opposite to the one next to it, the patchwork of injuries left behind from his attempts to get his parents attention when he was younger, the—
That is to say, Buck had a lot of scars he was less than happy to show off, and he knew what the Firefighter Calendar requested of them. He knew he could request they edit them out but knew that would be even more suspicious. So he just… didn’t. And he doesn’t tell anyone. Not even Eddie, who hounds him about it with clear glee on his face every time he brings it up, obviously remembering Buck’s attitude about it when they first met. It’s not important. It’s just a calendar.
So when he walks into work and everyone is staring at him Buck doesn’t immediately know why. He bites the inside of his cheek as he ascends the stars, their eyes following him up the entire way.
“Hey Buckaroo,” Hen calls, gesturing to her side where an empty seat resides, “how’s your morning been?”
He slowly slides his way into the seat as he meets the eyes of each of his friends. He prides himself in how well he’s learned to read them but in this moment he has no idea what he’s looking at.
“Hi Hen, hi guys, it’s been good?” He can’t help it sounding like a question, “just had breakfast, came to work, and now I’m here. You know, like normal?”
Hen nods, considering.
“Mhmm, mhmm, that’s good. Anything interesting in your emails? Any… news?” Her hands rest under her chin as she peers at him from under her lashes. It’s all too innocent and Buck finds himself immediately suspicious.
“No?” He answers, frowning as he pulls his phone out of his pants and turns it on, “did I miss a memo or something? What’s going on?”
“Winners for the calendar contest came out last night when you weren’t on shift.” Eddie chimes in, crossing his arms across his chest, and Buck doesn’t get it.
Someone else would have won, he gets that, but what he doesn’t understand is why they’re looking at him like that. There’s no reason for them to—
“No one got it.” Hen tells him while raising an eyebrow, “Which is weird, because none of us applied this year, but we know you did. We went through all those photos the other week to decide what you’d send in. We all were just waiting for the announcement, because of course we want our Buck to sit on his rightful place on our wall, especially after all you’ve done and gone through this year. Bobby and Athena were especially excited to put you onto his fridge at home. We all agreed, didn’t we? Right, Buck?”
Buck freezes. Slowly, he pushes his chair backwards. It’s loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. A firm hand lands on the back of the chair and stops him from reversing any further.
When he looks up behind him he sees Bobby, staring down at him with concern etched into the lines of his face.
“Did you forget to send it in, kid?” Bobby asks, gently. Buck swallows uncomfortably. God, Bobby is always so genuine that he wishes that was all it was. That would make this so much simpler.
He doesn’t want to lie to Bobby, even about this. It shouldn’t matter. It’s a him problem and a stupid one at that and he doesn’t want to burden his team with the equally as stupid reasoning as to why he couldn’t just send in one stupid photo.
But he opens his mouth and takes the out he's given before he lets himself think about it, “Yeah. I’m sorry, guys. I know how hard you worked to help me find something to send in—”
And then Chimney is laughing and Buck’s head snaps towards him so fast it hurts. He trusts Chimney with his life – he trusts him with Maddie’s life – but that laugh is the most suspicious thing he has ever heard come out of his friend's mouth.
He narrows his eyes and feels his heart burning in his throat when he realises that everyone else’s expressions had abruptly changed from a mix of disappointment and concern to an all too familiar amusement. Far too slowly Buck realises he’s been had.
Hen slings an arm over his shoulder. Bobby moves his hand from the chair to Buck’s head. There are grins on both Eddie and Chimney’s faces. He has a terrible, terrible feeling.
“Luckily you have us!” Hen tells him, looking so excited that Buck has to fight the way his lips want to fall, “and we saw you had a lot on your mind recently so we all worked together to make sure it all got sent in. We didn’t want you to miss out. So…”
Chimney drums his hands on the table as Eddie opens a laptop and turns it towards Buck, expression so bright he can’t do anything except look away. His eyes drift down to the email open on the screen.
He loves his friends. Loves them. They are the best thing in his life and will forever remain as such. He knows when he dies – whether that’s tomorrow or years from now, just like Red – they will be who he is left thinking about in his last moments. He knows they love him too. But in this moment he wishes they loved him less.
His eyes skip past the text of the email – congratulations, Mr. Evan Buckley, our March Firefighter – and land on the enlarged image in the middle of the page. It’s not one he’s seen before. It’s not one of the choices his friends had placed in front of him, it isn’t one of the images that even if he didn’t want to look at them he at least knew what they held.
It’s an image that he recognises only in the way that he remembers where it must have been taken. He doesn’t remember anyone nearby holding a camera that day. But the image proves his memory wrong because there he stands absolutely drenched, chest exposed with his turnout coat wrapped around an equally soaked stray dog that he remembers having saved from drowning. His hair is damp and he’s in the process of flipping it out of his eyes in the image. It’s, admittedly, an incredibly nice photo. Professional.
The sun was bright that day, almost blinding, and the camera quality is shocking considering the glare of the light. Looking at the image, Buck can see every single line of the scar left behind after the lightning strike, every mismatched scar scattered across his torso uncovered for the world to see. Every one of his failures displayed in high quality.
Buck swallows again. If it was anyone else, if it was anything else, Buck would be flattered. And somewhere in him he is, but his team is looking at him expectantly and they all chose this photo and he knows they’ve seen the scars before but he doesn’t want people, doesn’t want his team, his family, to look at this calendar with all his mistakes in full view and—
He feels like a fraud. From the corner of his eyes he watches Eddie’s eyes narrow the longer he doesn’t speak and prays to a god that he doesn’t believe in that his friend doesn’t say a word. He looks away from the photo, desperate to pretend he can’t see it. He pulls on his best actor's face.
“Thanks guys, I really appreciate–”
And like a godsend, the bell rings. Everyone is too preoccupied in heading out to see the way Buck reaches out, closing the laptop and stopping anyone else from seeing the image. When he goes to join them, hopping into his seat across from Eddie, his breath hitches when a foot presses against his.
Eddie doesn’t look away.
And with the briefest of eyebrow raises, a movement no one but Buck would even recognise, Buck knows Eddie knows. He bites into his lip. He buries his nails into the pants covering his thigh – there is an ache starting in his leg and he had been too preoccupied to know when it began and he isn’t sure whether it’s phantom pain or not. Eddie watches every movement. All at once, with just one look from his best friend and closest confidant, he knows he won’t be getting through this shift without Eddie getting an answer.
Against all odds, the shift is busy enough that any chance Eddie does have to corner him immediately became obsolete. Any time they’re back at the station he manages to divert to the topic just enough to steer clear of any line of questioning regarding the calendar. It’s a relief until Bobby pats him and Eddie on the back and lets them know their shift is finally over for the day.
They head down to their cars together, conversation natural and steady and fine, but then Eddie’s voice has him freezing in place with his hand on the door of his jeep.
“Buck. Come home with me?” Eddie asks, leaning into his line of sight from his position against the side of his truck. Buck knows what his answer should be. He knows he should say no. He knows he should just go home and deal with his feelings about this by himself.
He knows home means the same thing to Eddie as it does to him.
Eddie doesn’t look away from him. His eyes are warm, a balm against the panic in his chest, and Buck releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He nods before he is even aware he’s doing it.
“Okay.”
Eddie smiles in the same way he did when Buck brought Christopher back from the beach that first time they went without him after the tsunami – relieved, grateful and proud without reservation. Everytime Buck sees it he can’t believe it’s aimed at him. It’s a smile that Buck has found himself so familiar with that just the sight of it takes away some of the tension he’s been carrying around since the start of the shift.
“Great!” Eddie’s grin turns mischievous and Buck only feels dread, “Chris wants that meal you made last tuesday again. I’ve got the ingredients, you just need to get the kitchen running. I’ll race you there!”
Buck is still running through his memories trying to remember what he’d made that he barely even registers Eddie sliding into his truck and out onto the streets.
“Wait, we ordered pizza last tuesday–!”
Buck finds himself laughing for the first time that day as he pulls himself into his jeep and sets off after his best friend.
Eddie is waiting on the couch when he arrives. There’s a second of uncertainty where Buck thinks he’s going to open his mouth and ask him about the exact problem with his long honed pinpoint accuracy. But Eddie just smiles up at him, patting the space beside him on the couch. It takes everything in Buck not to collapse when he takes his rightful place at Eddie’s side.
He glances around, eyes narrowing when he notices that he isn’t hearing the telltale sound of Christopher in the house. Eddie watches him the entire time. Eddie’s patience with him is the only thing keeping him standing as he realises–
“Christopher’s on that school trip until friday.” He says aloud, the words pained on his tongue. Eddie nods softly.
He’d forgotten.
How had he been so distracted today that he’d forgotten?
“Sit down, Buck. I know your leg’s been hurting today.” Eddie tells him softly. Buck chews the inside of his cheek as he makes his way over to the couch. He hovers for a moment, unsure, but Eddie is ready and takes a hold of his hand and helps him take that final step by pulling him down.
Their breathing is the only thing left in the room as Buck makes himself comfortable against Eddie’s side, turning at an angle so he can stretch his long legs over Eddie’s lap. Eddie is steady beneath him. Buck feels like he’s standing on a live wire and one wrong move will leave him barbecued.
He leans back against the arm of the chair as Eddie settles his hands against his bad leg, beginning to massage it without a second of hesitation. It’s quiet. It’s comfortable. The sound of the TV that Eddie left on is just background noise.
“What’s wrong, Buck?”
He knew it was coming.
He flinches anyway.
He hides his face in the side of the couch and wishes he could be normal about this.
“I’m fine.” He whispers, breathing the words into the world like it’ll make them true.
“Buck.” Eddie sighs.
“Eddie.” Buck scowls. And then he leans back to look Eddie in the eyes, “Really, it isn’t important. It’s just me being stupid. I’ll get over it, I always do.”
Eddie just looks sad.
“It’s important if it makes you feel bad, Buck. You know that right?” Eddie’s hand lifts up and reaches over to press gently against the side of his face. Buck wonders what Eddie sees in his eyes.
“I…” Buck breathes. His inhale is painful and he wants to repeat just how unimportant it is but he knows what Eddie will have to say about that. He pulls away from Eddie, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.
As he stands back up, he digs his hand into the meat of his thigh where Eddie’s hand had been. He lets go with a deep exhale. He reaches down and takes a hold of Eddie’s hand and pretends that his own aren’t shaking.
He doesn’t say a word as he pulls Eddie along with him into his friend's bathroom. Eddie waits, ever patient. Not for the first time Buck finds himself immensely grateful to have Eddie in his life.
He brings them to a stop in front of the mirror.
Eddie’s face can only be described as sympathetic as Buck pulls off his shift in a hurry, arms getting tangled up as he fights to get this over with. He watches as much as he hears Eddie draw in a sharp breath as he looks at the scars decorating Buck’s chest. He knows Eddie has seen them before. It doesn’t make it any better for either of them.
“I hate them.” Buck finally whispers, looking away from the mirror and to the cool tiles beneath his feet, “I hate that I can’t escape them, no matter what I do. I hate that I can’t go out to the beach without someone staring at me. I hate that I can’t stand photos of myself because I know that all the people who look at them will see is the scars. I hate that whenever I wear shorts all I can think about is the weight of that fucking truck on my leg. I hate that—”
“I’m glad.” Eddie cuts him off, gently leaning his head on Buck’s shoulder.
“You… what?” Buck sputters. He looks back up at the mirror in his shock and meets Eddie’s eyes. They’re so sad is his first thought. But god… the weight of them is a balm on his soul and they’re so gentle Buck has to fight to keep his breathing normal.
“I’m glad that you hate them. I don’t think I’d survive if you didn’t care about them.” Eddie admits this as he lifts up a hand and gently places it against Buck’s side, right next to the most prominent of the scars from the lightning strike. Eddie inhales deeply, “It means you know what they mean. They mean you got hurt. And dios, Buck, I’m glad that they’re there for you to hate because it means you survived it. You’re still here. You, and these scars, they’re a part of you, but that doesn’t mean they’re something to be happy about. Of course you should be proud you lived through them, but I hate that you had to. That the world keeps deciding to find ways to hurt you over and over again. So yes, Buck, I’m glad you hate the scars. I hate that they represent every time I could have lost you. But I also love them because they’re a part of you and they’re on you because you fought to come back to us. I love them more than I could ever hate them, and I’ll love them enough for the both of us. There’s no part of you that I could ever love less. Anyone who doesn’t see that doesn't deserve you.”
Buck’s hands are shaking. He isn’t cold. Eddie’s cheeks are warm where they’re pressed against his and Buck lifts a hand up to his chest to hold over Eddie’s. Carefully, he curls his fingers over his until they’re interlocked. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t think he ever could.
He barely realises that he hasn’t looked away from the mirror – hasn’t looked away from Eddie, from the scars – until he watches the smile bloom on his friend's face as he smiles back.
For a moment, quiet and comfortable, they just look at each other. He finds himself staring at the red of Eddie’s cheeks – brighter than ever, stark in the white light of the bathroom. He thinks he could watch Eddie forever and he’d never get bored.
“You love my scars?” He finally asks. He watches Eddie’s cheeks burn brighter, watches as Eddie glances away like he could ever hide from Buck.
“That’s what you took from that?” Eddie complains, but the smile on his face is as bright as ever, “Of course I do, Buck. I love you so of course I love–”
He freezes. Buck tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he feels him move to pull away.
“No.” Buck says. His heart is so loud in his chest he wonders if Eddie can hear it. He wonders what it says about him that he hopes he does. “Stay. Please. Say it again.”
Eddie takes a shuddering breath. The red in his cheeks have vanished and been replaced with a stark white across his entire face.
“I love your scars. I love that they’re on you because it means you survived.” Eddie says, and Buck grips onto Eddie’s hand impossibly tighter. “Because I love you, and that means every single part of you. Buck, anything that’s a part of you is something I love more than anyone else could possibly understand.”
Buck breathes in.
When he exhales his body feels lighter than it has in a long, long time. He can’t misunderstand this. He can’t let Eddie pull away here. He can’t let go of this burgeoning hope—
“Again.” Buck demands.
He watches Eddie finally start to smile again as the dread that had drifted onto his face falls away. Eddie laughs softly and turns him around so they are standing face to face, no mirror between them. It’s just them.
It’s always been them.
“I love you.”
Buck swallows, “You aren’t just saying this because of the scars. To make me feel better.”
It’s not a question.
With the hand not holding his, Eddie reaches up and gently brushes his fingers over his birthmark above his eye. It’s so gentle that it terrifies him. Buck can’t help the way his head follows the hand as Eddie moves it away. Eddie chuckles and cups his face like he’s something precious to hold.
“No, Buck. I’m not.” He says it carefully. Buck is grateful that he seems to understand the weight of what this means.
“You didn’t mean to say it.” Buck answers, another surety. Eddie’s face drops slightly but there’s some kind of security in him now that Buck doesn’t think he can pretend to mean anything else.
“I didn’t.” Eddie whispers.
“But you mean it.” Buck stares with eyes wide and wild, “And you don’t mean it as just… as my best friend. Right?”
Eddie exhales, letting go of Buck’s hand to lift it up and press it against Buck’s other cheek. He looks exactly the same as he always does when he looks at Buck. He just looks fond, “No, Buck. You know how I mean it.”
Buck can only look into Eddie’s eyes and hope, desperately, that this isn’t a dream.
“I can’t believe this is happening when my shirt is off and it’s not for sexy reasons. You're telling me you love me while I’m here complaining about my scars to you,” Buck whines, “Eddie, you couldn’t have done this when I was being, you know, cool?”
Eddie laughs softly.
“You’re always cool, Buck. Especially when you’re telling me about your scars. Yes, Buck, of course I love you. I love you when you're shirtless, no matter the reason, and I love you when you’re fully suited up to go be the hero you are, and I love you when you’re at home with me and Christopher just being our family. Now, are you going to kiss me or not, Buckley?”
“Yep!” Buck exclaims, leaning forward into Eddie like it’s the last thing he’s ever going to do. He pulls Eddie close by the waist, softly presses his teeth into his lower lip and pulls. Eddie doesn’t let go of his face as he fights back, his tongue swiping over the inside of his mouth like it’s second nature.
He listens to Eddie groan and brings him closer, pressing bare skin against the brown shirt Eddie wears until the space between them is nothing but a concept, until they’re so pressed together that Buck can barely tell who is who, until the world is almost silent except from the sounds they make against one another’s lips. Buck doesn’t pull away even when they lean away from each to take a breath. Eddie just keeps grinning at him as he pulls him back in.
Buck can’t help his laughter, curling his body around Eddie as much as he humanly can. He presses his lips against the pulse point on Eddie’s neck just to feel him breathe. His skin burns but for once in his life it isn’t from the pain left behind – it’s a good burn, something gentle and warm and entirely Eddie.
“I love you too, just in case that isn’t obvious.” He whispers against Eddie’s skin. He feels the breath of laughter that leaves Eddie from how close he is to him. He wants to feel it again, wants to be the cause of it for the rest of his life.
“Yeah, I think I know now, Buck. But it doesn’t hurt to hear you say it. I love you. Now, can we get out of this bathroom so I can tell you properly without having to stare into my own eyes over your shoulder?”
Buck cackles, tightening his grip around Eddie’s waste as he nods, “Yeah, Eddie, we can.”
He doesn’t have to see the smile growing on Eddie’s face to know it’s there. When Eddie moves away from him, he grabs his hand and holds on tight. It’s second nature. It’s safety, it's home, condensed and wrapped in the form of his best friend.
It’s Eddie.
“You know we’re still going to have a talk about the things you think about your scars, right? You know you want that spot on the calendar, Buck, I know you too well for you to tell me otherwise.” Eddie tells him, dragging the tips of his fingers across the top of the scar left behind by the lightning on his neck.
Buck shivers. He sighs, exhausted and fond, as he picks his shirt back up from the floor. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as they head for the door and wonders, briefly, if he could get Eddie to kiss those scars away.
“If you kiss me like that again, I’ll talk to you about whatever you want, Eddie.”