Chapter Text
Years later, Eddie would wonder exactly what the first sign was. If it was the cough or the fatigue. If it was the way that Buck always seemed to be just a little short of breath, or got dizzier than usual when standing up. He wondered if he had recognized the signs then, could he have changed things? Stopped the ticking of the clock, the slipping of the grains of sand into the bottom of the hourglass.
Years later, he would realize that once the symptoms started to show, it was likely already too late.
But that wasn’t what he had been paying attention to. No, Eddie had been focused on what had been simultaneously the easiest and (second) hardest thing he’d ever done: realizing he was in love with Evan Buckley.
Eddie had never thought he was a ‘therapy’ kind of guy. Talking about the real stuff, the hard stuff, and then working out how he felt about it? Yeah, he’d prefer someone actually pulling out his teeth one by one. Except… except he didn’t really have a choice. Not if he didn’t want to lose Christopher again.
He had to be better for Christopher, and at the beginning, it was only for Christopher. But as the weeks turned into months, he realized he needed therapy to be better for himself, too. He needed to be able to ‘choose the juice’ or whatever (Frank had found that entire exchange amusing, but he clearly felt the metaphor was apt).
Unfortunately, those long therapy sessions ended up delving into other things, too. Specifically, his feelings surrounding Shannon, and then his romantic relationships in general. He remembered the specific conversation that turned his entire world upside down with near-perfect clarity.
They’d been talking about Shannon when Frank said, “So, it sounds like there was a lot of pressure from external sources for you to marry her.”
Eddie frowned and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. It was always just a little too cold in Frank’s office, as if the air conditioner was on full blast twenty-four seven. He wondered if he should comment on that, but then again, it matched the icy feeling of dread that settled into his stomach every time he walked through the door, so maybe it was appropriate. “Sure. I grew up Catholic, and having a kid outside of marriage would’ve caused Shannon to be shunned by our community. I couldn’t let that happen to her, and my parents told me in no uncertain terms that it was my duty to marry her.”
Frank nodded and wrote something down on his notepad. It always made Eddie’s skin crawl a little, like a nest of ants had been unleashed onto his body and allowed to roam free. What could Frank possibly be writing? Patient has a never-ending well of Catholic guilt to draw from. Patient is too fucked up for therapy. Patient is- “It sounds like you felt obligated to marry her. Was that something you wanted to do?”
Eddie shrugged, staring at a spot on the wall. It had been painted a sea foam green color—something likely meant to be soothing. It only intensified the army of bugs crawling across him. “Yeah. I mean, I wanted to be a good man and a good father.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “How did being married to Shannon feel for you?”
Eddie huffed. What did that have to do with anything? What did being married feel like for anyone? He itched with the temptation to get up and leave Frank’s office outright, but then he remembered Christopher and stayed put. “I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t there for most of our marriage. I shipped out, and then when I came back, Shannon left. And before she left, it was just… fighting. Then, when we weren’t fighting, we weren’t really talking either. We just… had sex to avoid it.”
“It sounds like neither of you was very present in your marriage. Is that an accurate assessment?”
Eddie grit his teeth and nodded. A restless energy settled in his bones, urging him to get up and pace the room, to chase away whatever hidden feelings wanted to bubble up.
Frank hummed softly and jotted something else down. Eddie resisted the impulse to get up and toss that stupid notepad across the room. “How did her leaving make you feel?”
Eddie threw up his hands, irritation licking up his spine like fire, powerful and raging against the cage of his body to be unleashed. “I don’t know. Angry. How is this supposed to help me?”
Frank sighed and put his pen down, eying Eddie carefully. It made him feel as if he’d been put under a microscope, as if Frank was digging his fingers into Eddie’s chest and opening him up, exposing every vulnerable piece of him he could and thrusting it into the light. “Eddie, you said you came back to therapy because of what transpired between you, your son, a woman who looked very much like Shannon, and your girlfriend at the time. It seemed to me, based on our initial conversation, that the goal was to understand why you feel that you cannot move on from your ex-wife. Is that accurate?”
Eddie grunted in affirmation, tamping down the flames flickering underneath his skin.
“All right. Now, let’s talk about why that made you feel angry.”
Eddie let out a long, slow exhale, trying to release the anger and tension with the breath. Frank was, as always, correct. He did need to understand why he’d done what he’d done, even if it made him want to dive into oncoming traffic. “Because she left. She left me, and she left Christopher. Neither of us had her in our lives anymore, even though we needed her. She wasn’t just my wife; she was my best friend, and even before she left, it felt like she stopped being that.”
“Like she stopped being your best friend?”
Eddie nodded.
“When did that occur?”
Eddie opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He thought for a long moment. Shannon had been his best friend for years, long before they’d become romantically attached. She made him laugh and supported him in whatever goals he had for his future. But after she’d gotten pregnant, after they’d gotten married… that all changed. “I guess… I guess it was when we became a couple. I don’t know. It felt like she had expectations I could never meet, and we just… fought so much.”
“So, being romantically involved changed that dynamic for you?”
“Yes.” Eddie watched Frank as he wrote something else down. God, what Eddie would give to read those notes.
“I have a question for you, Eddie, and this might be a bit confronting, but I encourage you to really think about it: were you in love with Shannon?”
Despite what Frank said, Eddie answered almost immediately, “Yes. I mean, of course I loved her.”
Frank shook his head. “I’m sure you loved her, but were you in romantic love with her?”
Eddie squinted at Frank, brow furrowed. The line of questioning made something defensive inside him rear its head, hissing and snapping at whatever Frank was implying. “What’s the difference?”
“Between romantic love and platonic love?” Frank asked, a single eyebrow raised.
Eddie nodded again, trying to at least indulge him. Even if his body rejected the mere implication that he’d been any less than wholly in love with and devoted to Shannon, for the sake of trusting the process, he wouldn’t shut it down immediately.
Frank tilted his head slightly, as if deep in thought. The silence made Eddie squirm in his seat. “Well, they feel different for different people, but there are some things that are more indicative of romantic love. One is that you feel a strong desire to be with that person, that you can’t stop thinking about them, and want to be around them all the time. You envision a romantic future with them and want to do things like kiss them, hold their hand, et cetera. You may feel butterflies or feel like your love will last forever. Did you feel that way with Shannon?”
Eddie couldn’t help but stare at Frank. None of that really made sense. “No, but feeling butterflies in your stomach or wanting to kiss someone all the time, that’s not real. I mean, I get that those things happen in movies, but they don’t happen to actual people.”
Frank put his pen down again. Oh, God. That was never a good sign. “Not every person will experience those feelings in exactly the same way, but they certainly do exist.”
Eddie clenched his fists as his body began to run hot. It just- didn’t compute. He’d never felt that way. Well, at least not for Shannon, and he was certain he’d loved her. From very early on, he knew she would be an important part of his life. She was beautiful and so full of spirit. She’d made him feel safe, supported, and seen, but she’d never made him feel… like what Frank described.
Frank seemed to be watching him closely. “Well, let’s try this: the easiest way to differentiate between them is by comparison. Think of someone you feel a strong platonic attraction towards, such as one of your coworkers or your best friend, Buck, and then contrast that with what you felt for Shannon.”
And before Eddie knew what he was saying, the words tumbled out of his mouth, “Well, Buck’s not a good example.”
Silence. Complete and utter silence, except for the humming of the fans and Eddie’s own brain churning itself into a desperate clamor. “Why not?”
And Eddie- Eddie didn’t know. He didn’t know. Or did he? Because then, a whole lot of memories came bursting to the surface.
Puppy-dog excitement in the back of a firetruck. “I love kids.”
A grin and the words, “Or you could have mine.”
A kitchen and a simple question that sent sparks skittering across his skin. “You wanna go for the title?”
A hand on a shoulder. “There’s no one in this world I trust with my kid more than you.”
His arm in a sling, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. “Because, Evan. You think you’re expendable, but you’re not.”
His heart in his throat as he stared into a pair of blue eyes. “This doesn’t change a thing between us.”
Standing in front of a moving truck. “I hope you know, you do matter to me.”
A man breaking down his door to help him; saving his son from a tsunami; taking care of his son when he couldn’t; begging him to hang on in the back of a firetruck; sleeping on his couch; drinking with him in matching 80s suits; teasing him about his telenovelas; someone who was always, always there.
“Oh my god,” Eddie breathed.
And that was how he realized that while he’d never been in love with Shannon, he was in love with Buck. Maybe he always had been. What a way to realize, after years of careful repression, of pushing down every errant urge, that he was gay.
Frank had insisted that this realization, no matter how Eddie felt about it, did not discredit his relationship with Shannon. He had still loved her, and she had still been an important part of his life. That would never change.
Eddie knew, intellectually, that it was true, but he still felt like he was betraying Shannon’s memory. He had loved her, and even though he understood he had never loved her in the way he had wanted to, that wouldn’t change. She would always occupy a place in his chest. Her memory was carved into him—a permanent brand upon his heart—and he wouldn’t ever let her go, but as Frank said, he deserved to make room for other people.
He deserved to move on, and yeah, Eddie was having a hard time accepting that. Deserving happiness had always been a hard pill to swallow, especially with the shame over his sexuality that had been pulled to the forefront. But holding onto shame and chasing what he thought he was supposed to be and supposed to have was how he’d hurt Christopher in the first place.
He couldn’t ever do that again, and if that meant accepting that he was… that he was gay, despite that essentially spitting in the face of his upbringing, he’d do it. Christopher was the most important thing in the world; nothing, and Eddie really did mean nothing, meant more than him. Not even clinging to the ideals he’d held ever since he was a child. If it took confronting his shame, his own internalized ideas about what being gay meant, to get better for Christopher, he would in a heartbeat.
So, that was how Eddie ended up in the middle of a twenty-four-hour shift, ostensibly getting ready to enter a structure fire in a suburban house while he was actually just staring at Buck.
Eddie realized that he’d never allowed himself to look too long or too hard at Buck, but now? Now, he felt as if he’d finally been given permission.
And holy shit. Eddie knew Buck’s arms were massive. Everyone knew that. It was a simple fact of life: the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Evan Buckley has tree trunks for biceps. But allowing himself to look at them with an appreciative lens? With the lens of someone who could be attracted to things like a man’s strength? That was a whole other ballgame.
Eddie felt unfairly distracted by the way Buck’s biceps flexed, the way the muscles rippled beneath his skin. Eddie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry for reasons that were entirely unrelated to the Southern Californian heat.
“Buck, Ravi,” Chim called, “I need you to clear the second floor. The couple is trapped in the master bedroom.”
“Got it, Cap!” Buck said before glancing over at Eddie with one of his patented sunshine grins. “See you in a sec. Don’t miss me too much!”
Eddie ignored the way his heart raced just a little faster whenever Buck looked at him like that. He had no idea how he’d never seen it before—how Buck’s very presence warmed his entire body, how any smile from him sent sparks running up Eddie’s spine. Apparently, ‘compulsive heterosexuality’ (thanks, Frank) was one hell of a drug.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Get up there, hotshot.” The casual nature of his words covered up the very real fear that came rushing in like flood water whenever Eddie watched Buck dive headfirst into danger. It was a part of the job, and yet, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever truly get used to it. Especially when he wasn’t there to have Buck’s back anymore.
He loved Hen, of course, but Buck had always been his partner. It felt wrong not to follow Buck, like waking up and putting his clothes on inside out or trying to write with his left hand—awkward and uncomfortable. But he’d do it anyway because that was the job.
Buck and Ravi disappeared into the quickly building inferno while Eddie and Hen got ready to treat the couple they’d be extracting.
Long minutes passed as Buck and Ravi worked to get the couple free. Every time Eddie heard Buck’s voice over the radio, it soothed the horrible thing in his chest that whined and cried at the idea of his best friend being in danger. Honestly, it felt more pathetic than anything else. Possibly dangerously codependent, too, because really, he should have been used to seeing the guy in danger by that point.
Then, finally, Buck and Ravi burst out of the front door. Ravi supported the woman, her arm draped over his shoulder as he hauled her forward, while Buck carried the man over his shoulder. The pair of them made a beeline for Eddie and Hen.
Ravi sat the woman down on the edge of the ambulance while Buck deposited the man gently onto a stretcher. Eddie and Hen jumped into action, running through their careful examinations with practiced ease.
It was as they were getting them settled in the ambulance that Eddie heard it: a horrible, chest-rattling, body-wracking cough. He whipped his head around to see Buck bent over, hand resting against the rig, seemingly hacking up a lung.
Eddie shared a glance with Hen, who simply inclined her head in Buck’s direction, to which Eddie nodded and hopped out.
He crossed over to Buck and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man. You good? Do we need to get you on oxygen, too?”
Buck shook his head, taking in another strangled breath. “No, no. I- I’m okay. I’ve just had this cough for a couple days.” He shot Eddie a small smile that was barely an echo of the grin from earlier. “It’s probably nothing, though,” he hurried to say when he saw what must’ve been a concerned expression on Eddie’s face.
Eddie studied his face carefully, looking for any sign of deceit. Buck ducked his head, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. The gesture made something dark and concerned curl up in his gut. “Let me check you out,” he said, already moving to turn Buck to face him so he could begin an examination.
Buck shook his head, catching Eddie’s wrists. “You’ve got to get those people to the hospital. I’ll be fine.” At Eddie’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Cross my heart and hope to- well, not die, but you get the gist.”
Eddie shook his head, chuckling just a little. That dark, knotted pit in his stomach loosened enough for him to breathe easily. He patted Buck’s shoulder one last time. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you at the station.”
Then, he hurried into the ambulance, and they set out.
Eddie forgot all about the cough until the following week. He was making his third coffee of the shift (it had been the exact opposite of quiet) when Buck came up behind him, all sunshine smiles and airy demeanor. “Jesus, man. I thought you were cutting back on the caffeine,” he said.
Eddie snorted and took a sip of his coffee. “I will when we’re further from the Fourth of July. I swear, there’s something about this goddamn holiday that makes everyone stupid. Well, more than normal, anyway.”
Buck chuckled, leaning against the counter and turning that megawatt grin on Eddie. If it made his heart stutter just a little in his chest, well, that was between him and God. “Stress and seeing family—two things guaranteed to make everyone a little dumb. I mean, we would know, right?”
“Amen to that.” Eddie raised his mug in a toast before taking another long drag.
Buck drummed his fingers against the edge of the countertop in a meaningless rhythm. Eddie’s chest went warm with fondness. It was Buck through and through, with all his restless energy that always needed an outlet. “Speaking of family,” he said, “how did Chris’s science project go?”
“He got an A,” Eddie said, with no small amount of pride. “I’m surprised he didn’t text you about it.”
Buck waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure he just forgot. I knew he’d get an A, though.”
Eddie chuckled. “Uh-huh. Is that because you did half the project?”
Buck squawked in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. Eddie had to force himself to look away before he fixated on something he shouldn’t. “I would never! I’ll have you know, Edmundo, that all I did was supervise.”
Eddie wrinkled his nose. “First, you definitely did more than supervise, but I’ll let it slide. Second, never call me Edmundo again.”
“Or what?” Buck asked, twisting towards Eddie and leaning in just a little. The newfound closeness had Eddie’s throat getting tighter and something fluttery unfolding its wings inside his stomach.
“Or I’ll tell Christopher that you were the one who ate the last of the Froot Loops,” Eddie said, taking another casual sip from his coffee.
Buck gasped. “Judas!” he accused before dissolving into laughter. Except, halfway through his laughing fit, the laughs turned into heavy coughs that shook Buck’s body. He turned so he could probably brace his hands on the counter.
Ice ran down Eddie’s spine as he turned to smack Buck’s back right in between his shoulder blades. “Hey, you good, bud?” he asked. That dark, fretful thing in the pit of his stomach made its presence known once more. Those coughs… they reminded him too much of Buck choking on his own blood, Buck waking up in the night, breathless and gasping from the latest nightmare, Buck choking on tears as he broke down to Eddie after Bobby’s death.
Buck nodded sharply, taking in a few more deep inhales. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good now.”
Eddie removed his hand from Buck’s back slowly, finding it difficult to break the point of contact, the place where he was reminded of Buck’s solidity—the fact that Buck was still there and not going anywhere. Sue him, but after how many people he’d lost (how many people they had lost), it was more obvious than ever that tomorrow was not promised to anyone. “You sure? You’ve had that cough for a while. Have you gone to a doctor about it?”
Buck shook his head. “Not yet. I mean, I will. It’s just that we’re- we’re busy, and it’s not a great time to make an appointment.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. Typical. “It’s never going to be a good time. Make the appointment, Buck,” he said, patting Buck’s shoulder. He waited for Buck’s nod before he walked to the table to finish his coffee and the article he’d been reading earlier.
He had tried to keep the heaviness of worry out of his tone during that conversation, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. How could he, though, when Buck mattered so much to him? When the man was practically half of him—half of his soul, his very being? It sounded sappy, even to him, but it was the simple truth. The one he’d been grappling with ever since that day in Frank’s office.
God, it would have been so much easier if he weren’t in love with Buck, but even as he thought it, he knew he didn’t want ‘easier.’ The idea of waking up one day and realizing he only saw Buck as a friend seemed not only impossible but downright wrong.
Once, he had said that everything that mattered was where Christopher was (which had been in Texas at the time), and that was half true, if only because Eddie carried Buck with him everywhere.
Sure, Christopher was his heart. The second that kid had been born, the second Eddie had held him in his arms, he knew that part of him would always be wherever Christopher was. Eddie’s heart was outside of his body, walking around, fragile and vulnerable to all the horrors the world could inflict.
But every other part of him belonged, in some way, to Buck. He couldn’t separate the parts of him that had existed before Buck and the parts of him that existed as a result of Buck, and he wouldn’t want to, even if he could. Wherever he went, Buck was with him, in his memories, his mannerisms, and his personality, so he could never truly leave him behind.
Again, he realized it was frighteningly codependent, but he knew it was a result of all they’d been through together. They’d fought through fires, injuries, lawsuits, countless near-death experiences, and long separations. They’d had their arguments and come out the other side stronger. That kind of thing bonded people, permanently. Even if they were destined to always be ‘platonic best buddies’ or whatever, Eddie knew that they would always be partners. They would always have each other’s backs. That was all that mattered.
And wasn’t that what love was, in the end?
The cough didn’t make a reappearance—at least, not to Eddie—until two weeks later. He stood in his kitchen, watching as Buck flitted back and forth, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and apron tied tightly around his waist. Flour dusted his hands, turning a few of his knuckles white with it.
“Remind me why we’re making the cookies instead of just buying some from the store?” Eddie asked, leaning against the fridge.
Buck turned on him with a determined glint in his eyes that Eddie not-so-secretly loved. “Because, Eddie, store-bought cookies are not good enough for Christopher’s bake sale! Don’t you want to be the cool dad who brought homemade cookies?”
Eddie snorted. “You know you’re coming with me, right? You can’t get out of this that easily,” he said, voice light and teasing.
“Of course I’m coming,” Buck said, as if not coming hadn’t even occurred to him. God, the way that made Eddie’s heart flutter and warmth flood his body. That devotion, that steady presence of Buck’s, made something inside him turn gooey and soft.
Eddie hummed softly, crossing the kitchen to get behind Buck and sneak a taste of the dough from the mixer. Buck caught him and smacked his shoulder gently. “Hey! Get your fingers out of the dough, man,” he said with a little chuckle.
Eddie laughed. “My hands are clean!” he said, holding them up.
Buck shook his head. “I will kick you out of this kitchen,” he threatened. Unfortunately, the fondness infecting his tone and the begrudging smile on his face made the words lose their impact.
“It’s my kitchen!”
“When we’re baking, it’s my kitchen,” Buck said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
“Mhmm,” Buck replied easily, hip-checking Eddie out of his way as he grabbed a baking sheet from the cabinet above the oven.
Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Christopher came into the kitchen. He sighed dramatically and held up a blue folder that had the word Math scrawled across its front. “Dad, Buck, can I get some help with checking over these problems? Algebra is kicking my butt.”
Eddie shared a glance with Buck, communicating with him silently. I’m terrible at math, Buck’s slightly panicked look said.
I’m not any better, Eddie’s grimace replied.
Fine. I’ve got this, Buck’s sigh and slight head shake said.
Eddie laughed. “I’ll get the cookies on the sheets and put them in the oven. Eleven minutes for each batch, right?”
“Yep,” Buck said, untying his apron and tossing it at Eddie as he crossed over to sit down next to Christopher.
The next hour or so passed in a domestic kind of peace. Eddie baked the cookies, checking the oven probably more often than the simple task required. Buck and Christopher sat side by side at the little table, heads bent over the math worksheet.
Eddie couldn’t help but think, This is what life is meant to be. If that was his forever, he wouldn’t mind it. Not one bit. He could picture it so vividly: lazy days off spent with the three of them on the couch, watching whatever new documentary had caught Buck and Christopher’s eye, days spent going on outings to the zoo, aquarium, or anywhere else they would want to go.
Except, in that version, he’d be able to hold Buck’s hand, to kiss him whenever he wanted. In that version, Buck would never go home at the end of the night. He’d retire to Eddie’s room (their room), and they’d sleep side by side.
Eddie would be there to hold Buck when he woke up, breathless and gasping in the night, trying his damndest to outrun the demons that haunted him even in sleep. Eddie could curl around Buck like a parenthesis, bracketing him in. He could rest with his head on Buck’s chest, listening to his heartbeat—a constant reminder of his steady presence in Eddie’s life.
Eddie shook his head, trying to clear those images from his mind. While his daydreams were lovely, they were also just that: dreams. They were halcyon creations of his mind—a perfect paradise that, no matter how hard he yearned for it, would never come true. He was setting himself up for heartbreak, for the sting of rejection, for the burn of loss. But then, he wouldn’t mind burning if it meant he no longer had to carry the burden of keeping his feelings a secret.
He would never regret falling in love with Buck, but keeping it all inside? That was much harder. It was as if, once the dam of repression had broken, he could no longer control the flood of emotions. Unfortunately, this was a bell that couldn’t be unrung, so he’d just have to deal with it and thank his lucky stars that he got Buck in his life at all.
Christopher got up. “Thanks, Buck. I think it’s good now.”
“Any time, Superman,” Buck said, giving Christopher a soft smile that melted Eddie where he stood.
Christopher rolled his eyes at the nickname, showing that he definitely inherited Eddie’s sass. “Dad, I’m going to my room to finish the rest of my homework.”
Eddie nodded. “As long as you’re actually going to finish your homework and not just play on your Switch.”
Christopher gave him an exasperated look. “I’ll finish my homework, then play on my Switch. Obviously.”
Eddie snorted. “Yeah, okay. Cut the attitude next time, though, bud.”
“Sure,” Christopher said, in a tone that made it incredibly clear to Eddie that he would not, in fact, cut the attitude next time. But that was typical of teenagers. At least they were on good enough terms to tease each other.
Christopher ambled out of the room, and Buck went to stand. Except, he wavered on his feet and stuck his hands out towards the table, catching himself before he stumbled.
Eddie took an immediate step forward, reaching out a hand to catch Buck’s arm. “Hey, hey, easy.”
Buck waved Eddie off. “Sorry, I’m good. Just got a little dizzy,” he said, a little breathless. Then, the coughing started. They weren’t the body-wracking coughs Eddie had heard the first time—ones that were surely worsened by the smoke inhalation—but they were still rough and shook Buck’s frame.
Eddie squeezed Buck’s shoulder, trying to convey his worry, his care, and his love in the singular simple gesture. “Okay, seriously, have you gone to a doctor about that?”
Buck sucked in a deep breath, eyes shining a little bit from the exertion. “Yeah. They said it was fine.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, ducking his head to the side to attempt to look in Buck’s eyes. “Fine?”
“Well, okay, not fine,” Buck said, resolutely ignoring Eddie’s gaze. “It’s probably just a long COVID symptom. So, uh, I’m not contagious or anything, of course, but I still have to get treated for it.”
Eddie frowned. “You have long COVID? When was the last time you even had COVID? Shouldn’t these symptoms have come up earlier?”
Buck shrugged. “I don’t really know, but seriously, don’t worry about it! I’m already working on getting treatment, so I’ll be back in fighting shape in no time,” he said, brushing by Eddie to check on the cookies that were resting on the cooling rack.
Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, worrying the skin there anxiously. “Okay, if you’re sure. Are they saying that you’ll need time off work?”
Buck turned then to face him, alarm written all over his face as his shoulders went tense. “No!” he said, a little too loudly. “No. Uh, I should be fine. The symptoms aren’t that bad. They’re manageable—especially with treatment.”
Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, studying Buck carefully. There was something in the way he didn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes, the way his shoulders still thrummed with tension, the way he was hunched over just a little, that made Eddie’s chest constrict. It felt like Buck was lying to him, and damn if that didn’t sting. “Buck, if this cough is getting in the way of work-”
“It’s not! Seriously, Eddie, I can still do my job. I’m not, like, useless just because I have l- long COVID.”
“I never said you were,” Eddie said, his tone edging into placation, “but you shouldn’t put extra stress on your body if you’re sick.”
“I’m barely sick, and I know my limits. I wouldn’t overdo it,” Buck said.
Eddie snorted in disbelief, about to argue the point further, but then he looked at Buck properly. It was like watching a flower wilt, the way his body hunched further, the way his head hung, and his gaze fell to the floor in preparation for Eddie’s protestations.
Eddie just sighed. “Okay, fine, but if it gets worse, you need to tell Chim and take some time off, okay?”
The tension in Buck’s body eased. He looked at Eddie with such relief in his eyes that it almost made Eddie feel better about not pushing harder. Almost. But at the end of the day, Buck was an adult. Eddie couldn’t force him to take a break, as much as he wanted to, and even if he ratted him out to Chim, all that would do was motivate Buck to prove himself.
That was one of those things that sometimes drove Eddie crazy. Buck was one stubborn motherfucker, but while Eddie found that particular trait annoying at times, he also appreciated it in others. That was just one facet of Buck’s personality, and Eddie didn’t want to change him.