That Shouldn't Be Happening

The first thing Eddie noticed was that Buck stopped finishing his coffee, and it was subtle enough at first that he almost let it go. There was no complaint about the taste, no offhand comment about cutting back, just a quiet shift in habit that might’ve passed unnoticed by anyone who hadn’t spent years learning the small, consistent patterns that made Buck who he was. He still made it the same way, impatient and overly sweet, but more often than not the mug was left half full on the counter, cooling untouched until Eddie poured it away later. It was an easy thing to dismiss on its own, the kind of inconsistency that came with long shifts and broken sleep, but Buck had never been careless with coffee before, not when Eddie had seen him drink it lukewarm, burnt, or straight from the pot without hesitation. The difference lingered, not because it meant anything yet, but because it didn’t fit.

The tiredness followed, settling in gradually enough that it could’ve been written off if it hadn’t felt so different from the usual cycle Eddie knew how to recognise. Buck had always pushed himself too far and then pretended he was fine until someone called him on it, but this wasn’t that restless, wired kind of exhaustion that came with overwork. This was quieter, heavier, something that seemed to pull at him rather than drive him forward, showing itself in the moments he thought no one was paying attention. Eddie saw it in the way Buck lingered in the mornings, one hand braced against the counter as though he needed the support, and in the way his focus slipped just slightly during conversations, his attention drifting before snapping back with a quick, automatic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was enough to catch Eddie’s attention, but it wasn’t enough to justify saying anything yet.

He told himself that the first few times he noticed it, watching from across the kitchen as Buck stood there a little longer than usual, staring down into his coffee like he’d forgotten what he meant to do with it. There was a moment, brief but distinct, where Eddie almost said something, the question forming before he’d fully decided on it, but he stopped himself before it could reach his mouth. It was too soon. There wasn’t enough there to make it more than a guess, and Eddie had learned, in ways that hadn’t always been gentle, that guessing out loud could do more harm than staying quiet until he was sure.

Buck didn’t notice the pause. Or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. He lifted the mug, took a sip, and set it back down again without finishing it, already moving on to something else like the moment had never happened.

Eddie watched him for a second longer than necessary, then looked away, telling himself it didn’t mean anything. People changed habits all the time. Sleep schedules shifted. Appetite came and went. There were a dozen explanations that made more sense than the unease settling at the back of his mind, and Eddie reached for those first, fitting them into place one by one because they were easier to hold onto than something he couldn’t yet define.

Still, he found himself paying attention in a way he hadn’t before, tracking small things without meaning to, the way Buck leaned a little more heavily against the counter some mornings, the way he took a second longer to focus when someone spoke to him, the way his energy dipped in quiet moments rather than building restlessly the way it always had. None of it was obvious. None of it was enough. But it stayed with Eddie anyway, a low, persistent awareness that didn’t settle no matter how many times he told himself it would.

It was nothing, or at least that was what he told himself, even as the thought refused to settle, shifting under his attention in a way that made it difficult to dismiss entirely. And yet, for all that he tried to frame it as nothing, he didn’t stop watching.

“Hey,” Eddie said one morning, watching him from across the kitchen. “You with me?” Buck blinked, like he’d only just realised Eddie was speaking to him, and gave a small, dismissive huff of a laugh as he straightened. “Yeah. I’m here.” Eddie didn’t move, his gaze steady in a way that made it clear he wasn’t asking lightly. “You don’t look it.” “I’m fine,” Buck said, a little too quickly, already reaching for his coffee even though Eddie could see he’d barely touched it.

It should’ve been enough, that answer, especially coming from someone who was usually so quick to brush things off, but it sat wrong in a way Eddie couldn’t quite explain, not when it came paired with everything else he’d started to notice. Eddie stayed where he was for a moment longer, watching the way Buck lifted the mug without really looking at it, the way his grip shifted slightly as though he’d misjudged it before correcting himself. It was small. It was nothing. It was still enough to hold Eddie’s attention in a way that made it difficult to let go.

He crossed the kitchen then, not abruptly, just closing the distance like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he always did, until he was close enough that he could see the faint tension at the corners of Buck’s eyes that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. “You sure?” he asked, quieter this time, his gaze staying on Buck as he waited for an answer. Buck glanced at him, the hesitation there for just a second before he gave another small nod. “Yeah,” he said again, but this time there was less certainty behind it, and Eddie could hear the difference.

Eddie let that sit for a second, weighing it against what he was seeing, against what he knew. Buck being tired wasn’t new. Buck running himself into the ground and pretending it didn’t matter wasn’t new either. But this didn’t feel like that, and the difference pressed at him in a way that made it difficult to ignore. “Then go back to bed,” Eddie said, because that was the obvious answer, the one that didn’t require him to push any further than Buck was willing to let him. Buck huffed out a quiet breath, something almost like amusement threading through it. “Yeah, because that’s gonna go over well,” he said. “Pretty sure Bobby would love that.” Eddie didn’t smile, even though the response was familiar enough that it should’ve been easy. “Bobby would rather you show up functioning than not,” he replied.

Buck’s mouth pulled slightly at that, not quite a smile, not quite anything else, and for a second it looked like he might actually consider it. Then he shook his head, dismissing it just as quickly. “I’m good,” he said, more firmly now, like he was closing the door on the conversation before it could go any further. “Seriously.”

Eddie held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something in it that might give him a reason to push, something that would justify ignoring the line Buck had just drawn. He didn’t find it. Or maybe he did, and chose not to act on it. “Alright,” he said finally, even though the word didn’t carry much weight behind it. Buck nodded once, like that settled it, already turning away to grab his keys, moving through the rest of the morning with an ease that might’ve been convincing if Eddie hadn’t already started to see past it.

Eddie stayed where he was for a second longer, watching him go, the unease from earlier settling back into place, sharper now that he had tried to name it and failed. He knew he’d let the conversation end where Buck wanted it to, but that didn’t make the feeling any easier to dismiss. It should’ve ended there, a question asked, an answer given, nothing else to follow, but it didn’t.

The changes in Buck’s eating habits were harder to pin down but no less persistent, marked less by quantity than by a strange kind of inconsistency that Eddie couldn’t quite ignore. Buck had always eaten in a way that matched the pace of his life, quick and easy when there was no time, more when there was, but lately it had become unpredictable in a way that didn’t feel like him. There were meals he barely touched, picking at them without interest before pushing the plate away, and others where he seemed to be searching for something specific without ever quite finding it, standing in front of the open fridge late at night as though the answer might be waiting somewhere at the back.

One evening, well past midnight, Eddie found him there again. The kitchen was dim, lit only by the overhead light above the stove and the soft glow spilling out from the open fridge, casting Buck in a pale, uneven wash of light that made the tiredness in his face more obvious than it was during the day. He stood with the door open longer than necessary, shoulders slightly hunched, one hand braced against the edge as he scanned the shelves with a faint crease between his brows, like he was trying to make a decision that refused to settle.

Eddie leaned against the doorway for a moment before speaking, watching him in the quiet, taking in the stillness of it, the way Buck didn’t seem aware of how long he’d been standing there. It wasn’t the first time. That was the problem. “You’re going to let all the cold out,” Eddie said finally, the words coming easily, more habit than anything else. Buck didn’t look back. “I’m not even hungry,” he said, and there was a note of frustration in it that made Eddie straighten slightly, the edge sharper than the situation called for.

Eddie pushed off the doorway, stepping further into the room. “Then why are you still standing there?” Buck hesitated, just for a moment, before shaking his head as though dismissing the question entirely. “I don’t know,” he said. “Nothing sounds right.” Eddie slowed as he approached, stopping just short of crowding him, close enough to see the tension sitting low in his posture, the way his shoulders stayed tight even as he shifted his weight.

“You want me to make something?” he asked, keeping his tone even, casual, like it wasn’t anything more than an offer. Buck finally glanced at him, something flickering across his expression, too quick to name before it smoothed out again. “No,” he said, softer now. “I’m good.”

Eddie didn’t move straight away. He stayed where he was, watching the way Buck turned back to the fridge like the conversation had already ended, like the question had been enough to settle it even if the problem itself hadn’t gone anywhere. He could push. The thought came easily. It wouldn't take much. One more question. One step closer. Enough to make it harder for Buck to brush it off, he didn’t. Instead, he stepped back, letting the moment settle the way Buck seemed to want it to, even as the unease that had been building all week pressed sharper against his ribs. He knew there was more he could ask, but he also knew Buck had already given him as much as he was willing to give. “Alright,” he said, because there was nothing else he could say that wouldn’t turn it into something bigger than Buck was ready for. Buck nodded once, almost absent, his attention already shifting back to the shelves in front of him.

Eddie lingered a second longer, then turned away, giving him the space he’d asked for without saying it out loud. He made it as far as the hallway before he stopped, the quiet of the house settling in around him in a way that made everything feel more deliberate, more defined. Behind him, he could still hear the soft hum of the fridge, the faint sound of movement as Buck shifted something on the shelf. Eddie told himself, again, that it didn’t mean anything, trying to hold onto the explanation even as the quiet gave him too much room to think about everything he’d noticed. He was still standing there a minute later when he heard the fridge door close. Eddie didn’t go back into the kitchen straight away. He stayed where he was, listening instead, the quiet stretching just long enough to make him turn back despite himself.

Buck was at the counter now, a carton of strawberries open in front of him, eating them one at a time with a distracted focus that didn’t quite match the situation. There was no real interest in it, no enjoyment, just a steady, absent rhythm like he’d settled on it without fully deciding to.

Eddie watched him from the doorway, something in his chest tightening at the sight in a way he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t the choice itself that caught his attention. Buck had eaten stranger things at stranger hours. It was the way he’d chosen it, or maybe the way he hadn’t, the sense that the decision had come from somewhere other than conscious thought.

Buck didn’t notice him this time. Or maybe he did, and chose not to say anything. Eddie stayed there for a moment longer, watching the steady, absent way Buck worked through the carton, the quiet of the house settling around them in a way that made the moment feel more deliberate than it should’ve. It would've been easy to dismiss it, to fold it into everything else he had already explained away, but the sense of something not quite lining up lingered, pressing at him in a way that refused to settle no matter how he tried to frame it.

He turned away eventually, more deliberately this time, forcing himself not to keep watching, not to give the feeling more weight than it deserved when there was still nothing solid to support it. He knew he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to make sense of Buck, but neither explanation made the unease any easier to put down.

It was still nothing, he told himself, even as the thought sat differently now, less certain than it had been before. He could explain away each individual thing, but the pattern was becoming harder to separate into harmless pieces when they kept appearing together.

None of it meant anything on its own, and that’s what made it so easy to ignore in the beginning, each detail small enough to be explained away if taken separately, fitting neatly into the kind of inconsistencies that came with the job, the hours, the constant push and pull of routine and disruption. Together, though, they began to form something less easy to dismiss, a pattern Eddie found himself returning to whether he meant to or not, the pieces aligning in a way that felt familiar without immediately offering an explanation he was willing to accept.

He caught himself cataloguing it without meaning to, the observations settling into place with a clarity that made them harder to ignore the more they accumulated. The coffee. The tiredness that didn’t behave the way it should. The way Buck’s focus slipped in quiet moments before snapping back into place. The shifts in appetite that didn’t follow any consistent logic. None of it was dramatic. None of it demanded attention. But it stayed with him anyway, threading through the back of his mind in a way that refused to settle.

Eddie told himself he was overthinking it. He’d done that before, let small things build into something larger than they needed to be, filled in gaps with assumptions that didn’t hold up once he looked at them properly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d mistaken unease for something more concrete, and he knew better than to act on instinct alone, not when instinct without evidence could just as easily lead him in the wrong direction.

It came to him without warning one afternoon, sharp enough that it made him pause in the middle of what he’d been doing, the recognition settling into place with a clarity that felt out of proportion to how little he actually had to support it. For a second, he let it sit there, turning it over just enough to acknowledge it, and in that moment everything else seemed to shift around it, the scattered observations aligning into something more defined.

Then, just as quickly, he pushed it aside, because it didn’t make sense and it couldn’t make sense, and that was enough to keep him from looking any closer. Eddie straightened, forcing himself to move again, to let the moment pass without giving it more weight than it deserved. Eddie straightened, forcing himself to move again, to let the moment pass without giving it more weight than it deserved. There were other explanations. Stress, exhaustion, something minor that would resolve on its own if given enough time. He could list them easily, each one more reasonable than the conclusion his mind kept circling back to, and he held onto those instead, anchoring himself in what he knew rather than what he didn't.

But the familiarity didn't go away. It lingered at the edges of his thoughts, quiet but persistent, surfacing in small moments when his attention drifted, when he caught himself watching Buck without meaning to, tracking the same details he’d already told himself didn’t matter. It wasn’t a certainty. It wasn’t even something he could justify naming yet. But it was there, and the longer he ignored it, the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t.

He thought about saying something more than once. The words came easily when he let them, simple enough on the surface, a question that wouldn’t seem out of place if he framed it right, but every time he considered it properly, he found himself stopping short. There was a line there, one he had learned not to cross without reason, and he didn’t have enough yet to justify stepping over it, not when the risk of being wrong carried its own consequences.

So he waited and watched, telling himself again that he was overthinking it, even as the certainty he was trying not to acknowledge continued to settle into place with each passing day. He didn't know what he expected to find, only that he kept noticing more than he meant to.

The call came in the way they always did, cutting cleanly through whatever else was happening and replacing it with something immediate, something that demanded attention in a way that left no room for anything else. By the time they were on the truck, the earlier unease had been pushed aside, not gone but set somewhere out of reach where it wouldn’t interfere with the work in front of them.

Buck moved through the routine with the same ease he always had, quick and efficient, settling into place without hesitation, and for a while there was nothing in it that stood out, nothing that would've drawn attention if Eddie hadn’t already been looking. From the outside, it was the same as always, and that was what made it harder to ignore.

There was a moment, brief and easily missed, before they even reached the scene, where Buck shifted in his seat, one hand coming to rest against his abdomen as though adjusting for discomfort that hadn’t been there a second earlier, his expression tightening for a fraction of a second before smoothing out again as he straightened and refocused with practised ease. Eddie didn’t say anything, even though the question had already formed, because there was no time to follow through on it, not when they were already pulling up and the shift from observation to action happened so quickly that anything else would’ve been a distraction, though the moment stayed with him all the same.

On scene, everything unfolded the way it should’ve, controlled chaos settling into something manageable as they moved through it with the kind of coordination that came from years of working together. Buck was steady and focused, his movements precise in a way that left no room for doubt, and for a while Eddie let himself believe that whatever he’d seen earlier had been exactly what it looked like, nothing more than a momentary discomfort that had already passed.

Buck told himself the same thing, because it was easier than trying to define something that didn’t fit. The unsettled feeling had started before they left, low and indistinct, the kind of thing that came and went often enough that it didn’t seem worth the attention, and when he’d shifted in his seat and pressed his hand briefly against it, it had eased just enough that he’d let it go without a second thought, already moving on to the next thing.

There was no reason to dwell on it, not when there never had been before. By the time they were on scene, he’d already filed it away as nothing, focusing instead on the work in front of him, on the rhythm of it, the familiar sequence of steps that carried him forward without hesitation, because that’s what mattered and that’s what he trusted, while everything else could be ignored as long as it stayed in the background.

For a while, that approach held, the discomfort fading into something manageable, something distant enough that it didn’t interfere, until it returned with a subtle shift that made it harder to dismiss, settling deeper this time in a way that felt heavier, less willing to be pushed aside. Buck adjusted without thinking, the way he always did, letting muscle memory carry him forward even as something in the background refused to settle the way it should’ve, and although he didn’t slow or stop, there was a difference now in how it felt, a slight misalignment between what he expected from his body and what it was actually giving him.

Eddie saw the moment it caught up with him, the brief hesitation in Buck’s movement standing out against everything else happening around them, the way his hand came up again to press against his abdomen as his expression tightened before smoothing out almost immediately, the reaction controlled enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed it at all. “Buck?” Eddie called, keeping his voice low enough that it didn’t carry beyond them as he watched for any sign that the moment had been more than it appeared. “I’m good,” Buck said straight away, already moving again before Eddie could step any closer, the response coming too quickly to feel considered. “Just stood up too fast.”

Eddie let it go because there was still work to do, because there wasn’t space here to push, not when the situation in front of them demanded his full attention, but he didn’t stop watching him after that, his focus sharpening in a way that made everything else fall slightly out of place. He kept one part of his attention on Buck for the rest of the call, even while the work demanded everything else he had.

Buck didn’t slip again, moving through the rest of the call with the same steady confidence he always had, without hesitation and without any visible sign that anything had been off at all, and by the time they were back at the station he looked exactly like himself, the earlier moment already smoothed over as though it hadn’t happened. Eddie watched him settle back into the familiar rhythm of the station, almost convincing enough to make the hesitation on scene feel like something he’d imagined.

It should’ve been reassuring, but it wasn’t, because now Eddie had seen it twice, and that made it harder to dismiss as nothing at all. Whatever the explanation was, he knew he’d have to keep watching for it, because once he’d noticed the pattern, he couldn’t quite make himself stop seeing it.

None of it meant anything on its own, and that’s what made it so easy to ignore in the beginning, each detail small enough to be explained away if taken separately, fitting neatly into the kind of inconsistencies that came with the job, the hours, the constant shift between routine and disruption. Together, though, they began to form something less easy to dismiss, a pattern Eddie found himself returning to whether he meant to or not, the pieces aligning in a way that felt familiar without immediately offering an explanation he was willing to accept.

The thought came to him without warning, sharp enough to make him pause in the middle of whatever he’d been doing, the recognition settling into place with a clarity that felt out of proportion to how little he actually had to support it. For a moment, he let it sit there, turning it over just enough to acknowledge it, the implications unfolding too quickly for him to fully process them before he pushed it aside again, because it didn’t make sense and it couldn’t make sense, not when it had already been settled years ago with the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt, even if that certainty no longer felt quite as immovable as it once had.

The memory came back to him in pieces at first, not as a single clear moment but as a series of small details that aligned too neatly to dismiss once they’d settled, and it hadn’t been anything remarkable at the time, just another quiet conversation tucked into the edges of a deployment, the kind of thing that never made it into reports or official records because it didn’t need to. The soldier had approached him carefully, not quite meeting his eye, hands restless at his sides in a way that suggested he’d been working up to it for a while. “Doc, can you take a look at something for me?” There’d been nothing unusual in the request. He might’ve been a combat medic but he was also a lot of the platoon’s personal medic, and Eddie had nodded, already running through the possibilities in his head as he guided him somewhere quieter, somewhere away from the others where the conversation wouldn’t draw attention.

“What’s going on?” The answer had come in fragments at first and then more steadily once he’d started listing it out properly, like saying it aloud made it easier to believe it might have an explanation. “I’ve been feeling off. Tired all the time. Stomach’s been… weird. I keep thinking I’m gonna be sick, but it doesn’t always happen. And I can’t eat right. Nothing tastes like it should.”

Eddie had listened, asking questions where he needed to, building a picture the way he’d been trained to do, methodical and controlled enough to stay focused on the problem in front of him. There’d been a dozen possible causes for symptoms like that, most of them simple and most of them easy to manage once you knew what you were dealing with, but something about it hadn’t settled, not because of any one symptom on its own but because of the way they were described, the particular combination of them, the underlying uncertainty that threaded through the explanation. He had felt it then, that faint sense of familiarity he couldn’t quite place, like a memory just out of reach, and he had asked one more question, almost as an afterthought. “When were you last home?” The soldier had hesitated, just long enough to matter, before answering, and Eddie’d done the calculation without meaning to, the timeline aligning too neatly for it to be coincidence.

The realisation hadn’t come with panic or alarm, just a quiet shift in understanding that made everything else fall into place around it, and he hadn’t reacted immediately or let it show in his expression or his tone, because that wouldn’t have helped when the man in front of him was already uncertain enough without adding anything else to it. “I think you should take a pregnancy test,” he’d said instead, keeping his voice level and giving the suggestion space rather than weight. The soldier had gone very still at that, something flickering across his face that looked like recognition and fear tangled together. “You think that’s what it is?” Eddie hadn’t answered directly, because he didn’t need to when the possibility had already taken hold. “I think it’s worth checking, especially as your file indicates you have the active gene.”

He’d left it there, because pushing further wouldn’t have made it easier, and because some things people had to come to on their own terms. He hadn’t thought about that moment in a long time, not properly, not in a way that lingered beyond the passing recollection of something filed away as part of a life he no longer lived, especially once he was back in Los Angeles and his world had narrowed to the station, to Christopher, to the fragile sense of normality he’d worked so hard to rebuild.

Christopher had made it relevant again, though not in any way that had seemed connected at the time. The appointment had been routine, the kind of thing Eddie didn’t think twice about scheduling once it was flagged, another step in the long list of things that came with raising a teenager, especially one whose medical history meant nothing could be taken entirely for granted. Christopher had taken it in stride, curious more than anything else, asking questions the whole way through in the way he always did, and Eddie had answered what he could, steady and certain in a way that came easily when the information itself was clear.

The test had been straightforward, and the explanation had been clearer, laid out in terms that left little room for interpretation. The gene was either active or it wasn’t, with no gradual shift, no external trigger, and no change over time, and Eddie had still asked the question anyway, because that’s what he did when something mattered, when he needed to be sure he hadn’t missed anything that could come back to matter later.

“Is there any way that could change?” he had asked, keeping his tone even. “Something that could trigger it later?” The answer had been immediate, not dismissive but certain in a way that left no room for interpretation. “No. It’s either active or it isn’t. That doesn’t change.”

Eddie had accepted that without question, because there’d been no reason not to, not when it aligned with everything he already knew. He’d not thought about it again until now, when the memory returned with a clarity that made it impossible to ignore in the context of everything else he’d been seeing.

Because before that, there had been Shannon, and she’d not told him straight away, not when the changes had first started, brushing them off in much the same way Buck was doing now, downplaying the tiredness, the nausea, the subtle shifts that only seemed obvious in hindsight. Eddie had missed it then, caught up in graduating high school and applying for colleges, only realising when she finally told him outright, when it was no longer something that could be overlooked or explained away, and he remembered the way it’d felt, that moment of clarity that came too late to be useful, when all the small details rearranged themselves into something undeniable. He remembered thinking he should’ve seen it sooner.

The pattern wasn’t exact, and it couldn’t be, but it was close enough that it refused to settle back into something dismissible, and that was the problem, because it still didn’t make sense, even as the certainty he’d relied on began to shift under the weight of it. Eddie forced himself to move again, to let the moment pass without giving it more weight than it deserved, even as the thought refused to settle, shifting under his attention in a way that made it harder to ignore now that he’d let himself recognise it. He told himself, again, that he was overthinking it, holding onto the certainty because it was still there, even if it no longer felt as solid as it had before.

Eddie sat at the kitchen table the following morning, watching Buck move around the space with an ease that might have been convincing if he’d not already started to see past it, the familiarity of it now threaded through with details he could no longer ignore once he’d noticed them. There was a slight hesitation in the way Buck reached for something on a higher shelf, a brief pause as though he was recalibrating his balance before continuing, and it was subtle enough that Eddie might have missed it before, but now it stood out in a way that made it difficult to look away. That was the problem now. He was looking, and once he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop, the earlier uncertainty settling into something more defined even if he’d not fully allowed himself to name it yet.

“Buck,” he said, more deliberate this time, waiting until Buck glanced over before continuing. “When was your last full check-up?” Buck frowned slightly, like the question had come out of nowhere, drying his hands on a towel as he leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know. A while ago, I guess. Maybe before I was discharged. Why?” Eddie held his gaze, steady and unreadable, even as something in his chest tightened at the way Buck’s posture shifted just slightly under the attention. “Because something’s not right.”

Buck’s expression changed, not into concern but into something more defensive, the kind of reflexive dismissal Eddie knew too well, and it was familiar enough that it might’ve been reassuring if it hadn’t been layered over everything else Eddie had already seen. “I said I’m fine.” Eddie didn’t look away. “I know what fine looks like,” he said, keeping his tone even, not pushing but not softening it either, and the words landed in the space between them with more weight than he intended.

There was a brief pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to matter, and Buck exhaled, shaking his head slightly as though trying to brush the whole thing off before it could settle into something more serious. “You’re reading into it,” he said, but there was less certainty in it than there should’ve been, the edge of it dulled by something he didn’t quite manage to hide. Eddie felt that flicker of recognition again, sharper now, the pattern sitting too clearly in front of him to dismiss the way he had before, and this time he didn’t push it aside, didn’t force it back into something easier to ignore just because it would’ve been more convenient if it had been nothing. “No,” he said quietly, the certainty in it settling into place whether he wanted it to or not. “I’m not.”

Buck held his gaze for a second longer, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looked away, the tension in his posture shifting rather than easing as he turned back to the counter, picking up the mug he’d abandoned earlier even though there was no real intention behind the movement. “You worry too much,” he said, like that was enough to explain it, like that had always been the problem rather than anything else. Eddie watched him for a moment, the small adjustments in his movement standing out more clearly now, the way his centre of balance shifted just slightly, the way his hand hovered near his midsection before dropping again like he’d caught himself doing it, and the longer he looked, the harder it became to pretend he hadn’t already recognised what it resembled.

“You should get checked,” he said instead, the words more direct this time, no longer softened into suggestion. Buck let out a short breath, something between frustration and disbelief, and turned back towards him, his expression tightening slightly. “We’ve talked about this.” “Not really,” Eddie replied, steady, because that was the truth of it. “You said you were fine. That’s not the same thing.” Buck’s mouth pulled slightly at that, irritation flickering across his face before he smoothed it over. “Because I am,” he said, more firmly now. “There’s nothing going on.” Eddie held his gaze, the weight of everything he’d seen settling into something that felt harder to ignore with every passing second. “Everything I’m seeing says there is,” he said, quieter but more certain. “And I don’t think you’re actually looking at it.”

Buck frowned slightly, the reaction automatic. “Looking at what?” Eddie hesitated for a fraction of a second, not because he doubted what he was seeing but because saying it out loud still felt like crossing a line he’d been holding himself back from, and when he spoke his voice was steady even if the thought itself still sat wrong. “The pattern,” he said. “The symptoms. It lines up.” Buck’s expression shifted, confusion pulling in before it edged towards something more defensive. “With what?” Eddie didn’t look away. “Pregnancy,” he said, the word landing cleanly between them, not rushed, not uncertain. “That’s what it looks like.”

Buck went still. Eddie continued before he could respond, because this was the part that mattered, the part that made the difference between assumption and concern. “I know that doesn’t make sense,” he added, just as steady. “I know what the tests said. I know that’s not supposed to be possible. That’s exactly why I’m saying something’s wrong.” The silence stretched between them, heavier now, the air shifting in a way that made everything else fall away. Buck shook his head almost immediately, the denial automatic even if the reaction itself had slowed. “No,” he said. “That’s not… no.”

“I’m not saying that’s what it is,” Eddie said, holding the line, keeping his tone controlled. “I’m saying that’s what it looks like, and if it looks like that but it can’t be that, then something else is going on, and you need to get checked.” Buck let out a breath that was closer to a sharp laugh than anything else, though there was no real humour in it. “You hear yourself right now?” Eddie didn’t react to that, not outwardly. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

Buck looked away for a second, his jaw tightening before he looked back, the defensiveness settling in again, stronger this time. “I was tested,” he said. “You know that.” “I do,” Eddie replied. “That’s why I’m not ignoring this.” Buck held his gaze, something unsettled flickering there before it hardened into something more certain, something he could hold onto. “Then you should know this doesn’t make sense,” he said. “It’s not possible.”

Eddie felt that land, not because it changed anything but because it echoed the same certainty he’d been relying on himself not that long ago, and for a moment he understood the resistance, the need to hold onto something that felt fixed when everything else was starting to shift beneath it, but Eddie had already let that go. “I know what’s supposed to be possible,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “That doesn’t change what I’m seeing.”

Buck didn’t respond straight away, but he didn’t look away either, and that was the difference now, the line between them no longer sitting cleanly where it had before, the certainty he was trying to hold onto was no longer quite as solid as he wanted it to be. The silence stretched, not empty but weighted, carrying everything neither of them had fully said yet, and Eddie could see the shift happening even if Buck wasn’t ready to name it, the doubt threading through the space between denial and recognition in a way that couldn’t be pushed aside as easily as it had been before.

Eddie didn’t press it further. He didn’t need to, not when the words were already there, said out loud in a way that couldn’t be taken back or reframed into something easier to ignore. Buck knew what he was seeing now, even if he didn’t accept it, and that changed the shape of it, turning it from something unspoken into something that wouldn’t settle until it was resolved. “Just… think about it,” Eddie said finally, the words quieter now, less about convincing and more about leaving the door open, even as his certainty remained unchanged. Buck didn’t answer. He turned away instead, not dismissive this time but unsettled, the movement slower, more deliberate, like he was trying to put distance between himself and something he hadn’t quite figured out how to face.

Eddie watched him for a moment longer, the tension still there, unresolved but no longer undefined, and he didn’t try to smooth it over or pretend it hadn’t shifted something between them, because it had. Neither of them was going to be able to ignore it now, not after Eddie had finally said the thing they’d both been circling without naming.

Eddie didn’t expect the conversation to settle after that, not really, but he’d hoped the shift would be enough to move it forward, enough to make Buck reconsider even if he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, it lingered, not resolved so much as redirected, the tension between them settling into something quieter but no less present, threading through the rest of the day in a way that neither of them acknowledged directly.

Buck didn’t bring it up again, and neither did Eddie, but the absence of it didn’t make it disappear. It sat in the space between them, shaping the way Buck moved, the way he spoke, the way his attention seemed just slightly divided even when he tried to act like everything was the same as it’d been before. Eddie noticed all of it, the same way he’d been noticing everything else, and the longer it went unaddressed, the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t there.

By the time they were back at the station, the tension had settled into something more defined, less uncertain and more deliberate, like a line that’d been drawn without either of them fully agreeing where it should be. Eddie kept his distance at first, not out of avoidance but because he knew pushing straight back into it wouldn’t get him anywhere, not when Buck had already made it clear how far he was willing to go.

That didn’t mean he let it go. He tracked Buck through the shift the same way he’d been all week, his attention catching on the same details that’d started all of this in the first place, the small inconsistencies that wouldn’t have stood out before but now felt impossible to ignore. Buck moved a little more carefully when he thought no one was looking, his balance shifting just enough that Eddie noticed it even when it was subtle, and there were moments where he stilled briefly, like he was waiting something out before continuing.

Buck knew he was being watched. He didn’t call it out, not directly, but it showed in other ways, in the slight edge that’d crept into his responses, in the way he moved just a little faster when Eddie was nearby, like he was proving something without saying it out loud. If anything, he seemed more determined to act like nothing had changed, and that only made the difference sharper, because Eddie could still see it, could still track every small adjustment no matter how carefully Buck tried to smooth it over.

The near miss came at the end of a long shift, when exhaustion had worn the edges down and even small mistakes carried more weight than they should've. It was a routine extraction, nothing complicated, the kind of job they could handle without thinking, and that was exactly why it caught Eddie off guard when Buck misjudged his footing. It wasn’t dramatic, just a slight slip as he shifted his weight, but it was enough that Eddie reacted before he could stop himself, reaching out to steady him, his hand firm at Buck’s arm as he caught him before the movement could turn into something worse.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie said, the words automatic. Buck pulled back almost immediately, more out of reflex than anything else, a flash of irritation crossing his face before it smoothed out again. “I’m good,” he said, sharper than he needed to be. Eddie didn’t let go straight away. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

Buck met his gaze then, something guarded settling into his expression in a way that made Eddie’s chest tighten. “You’re acting like I can’t do my job.” “I’m acting like something’s off,” Eddie replied, keeping his voice level even as the tension between them sharpened. “Those aren’t the same thing.” Buck huffed out a breath, looking away as he tugged his arm free, already stepping back into the rhythm of the call as though that would end the conversation by default. “It’s nothing,” he said. “You’re overthinking it.”

Eddie let him go because there was no room to argue in the middle of a scene, but the words stayed with him, not because they convinced him but because they confirmed what he’d already started to suspect. Buck wasn’t just brushing it off out of habit anymore. He was choosing not to look too closely, and that was a different kind of problem entirely.

They finished the call without further incident, but the moment didn’t fade the way it should’ve, lingering instead in the space between them as they packed up and headed back, the silence settling in a way that felt heavier than it’d been earlier in the day. Neither of them mentioned it again on the way back, but Eddie could feel the unresolved tension following them into the station.

Eddie found Buck later in the locker room, sitting on the bench with his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed as though he’d only meant to rest for a moment and hadn’t quite managed to get back up again. There was a stillness to him that made Eddie pause in the doorway, taking it in before stepping inside.

“You’re going to end up sleeping here if you’re not careful,” Eddie said, keeping his tone light enough that it wouldn’t feel like an accusation, even if the concern underneath it was harder to hide now. Buck’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused for a second before they settled on him, and there was something there, something tired enough that it slipped through before he could cover it up. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, pushing himself upright with a small exhale that sounded like it took more effort than it should’ve.

Eddie watched the movement closely, the way Buck’s hand pressed briefly against his thigh before dropping away, the subtle shift in posture that followed, and the unease that’d been building settled into something heavier in his chest. “Buck,” he said, quieter now, more deliberate. “Talk to me.” Buck shook his head, already reaching for his locker, putting movement between them like it might deflect the conversation entirely. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Eddie didn’t move, didn’t let the distance become an excuse. “There is,” he said, holding steady. “You’re just not saying it.” Buck stilled for a moment, his back to Eddie, shoulders tightening just slightly before he let out a slow breath. “You ever think,” he started, the words more measured now, like he was choosing them carefully, “that maybe you’re seeing something because you’re looking for it?”

Eddie didn’t answer straight away, because it wasn’t a simple question, not when it brushed too close to the doubt he’d been trying to keep contained. He’d considered it, turned it over more than once in the quiet hours when he couldn’t sleep, but it hadn’t held up against what he was actually seeing. “No,” he said finally, the certainty in it quieter now but no less firm. “I think I’m seeing it because it’s there.”

Buck let out a short, humourless breath, closing his locker a little harder than necessary as he turned back around. “And what exactly do you think it is?” The question hung between them, heavier than anything they’d said so far, because answering it would mean repeating it, putting it into words again in a way that made it harder to ignore. Eddie held his gaze, steady even as something in his chest tightened. “You know what I think,” he said. Buck’s expression shifted, the defensiveness sharpening into something closer to frustration. “No,” he said, more forcefully this time. “I don’t. Because it doesn’t make sense, Eddie. It’s not possible.”

There it was again, that certainty Buck was holding onto, the same one Eddie had relied on himself not that long ago, and for a moment he understood it, understood why Buck would cling to it when everything else felt like it was starting to shift. Except Eddie had already moved past that. “I’m not saying it is,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I’m saying that’s what it looks like, and if it looks like that but it can’t be that, then something else is going on.”

Buck shook his head immediately, stepping back as though putting space between them might make the idea easier to reject. “No,” he said. “That’s not how it works.” Eddie didn’t follow him, didn’t close the distance, because this wasn’t something that could be forced, not like this. “We don’t know that,” he replied, just as steady. “Not if something’s changed.”

Buck’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping for a second before snapping back up, and there was something unsettled there now, something that hadn’t been there before no matter how much he tried to push it down. “I was tested,” he said, and this time it sounded less like a fact and more like something he was holding onto. “I know,” Eddie said. “That’s why this matters.” Buck let out a breath that was almost a laugh, except there was nothing amused about it. “Or it means you’re wrong.”

Eddie didn’t react to that, not outwardly, but the words landed all the same, because part of him knew that was still a possibility, however unlikely it felt now. “Then we check,” he said simply. “We rule it out properly.” Buck didn’t answer straight away, and for a moment the silence stretched between them, heavy with everything neither of them wanted to say outright. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said, quieter now but no less firm. “I’m not doing that.”

Eddie held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something in his expression that might give him a way through, something he could use to push past the wall Buck had put up, but there was nothing there except that same refusal, steadier now even if it wasn’t quite as certain as it had been before. “Why not?” he asked, more quietly this time. Buck looked at him, really looked at him, and for a second something shifted, something closer to uncertainty than anything he’d let show so far, before it closed off again. “Because it’s not real,” he said. “And I’m not going to go chasing something that doesn’t exist just because you think it does.”

Eddie felt that settle into something solid in his chest, not because it changed anything but because it confirmed what he’d already started to see. “I don’t think it,” he said quietly. “I know it looks like something’s wrong, and ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away.” Buck didn’t respond to that, but he didn’t argue either, and the silence that followed said more than anything else he could’ve, because for the first time he didn’t sound entirely convinced. Eddie didn’t push further. He didn’t need to, because the doubt was there now, and once it was there, it wasn’t going to disappear.

The refusal didn’t end the conversation so much as change the way it existed, shifting it into something quieter and more persistent, a tension that lingered beneath everything else without ever quite resolving. Eddie didn’t bring it up again that night, not because he’d let it go but because he could see the way Buck had shut down, the line he’d drawn not out of certainty but out of something closer to fear, and pushing harder in that moment wouldn’t have changed anything. He knew that, even if every instinct he had told him that waiting came with its own risks.

Buck carried on as though nothing had shifted, and if Eddie hadn’t been watching as closely as he was, he might almost have believed it. The routine of the station remained the same, calls coming in, gear going on, muscle memory taking over in the way it always did, but Eddie found himself tracking Buck through it all with a focus that bordered on distraction. He noticed the way Buck took a fraction longer to get up from a crouch, the way he adjusted his stance without seeming aware of it, the way his usual ease was threaded through with something quieter, more careful, and none of it interfered with his ability to do the job, not yet, but that only made it harder because it gave Buck just enough ground to stand on when he insisted that everything was fine.

Buck noticed, even if he didn’t say anything about it directly, and it showed in other ways, in the slight edge that lingered in his tone and in the way his movements sharpened when Eddie was nearby, like he was compensating for something he didn’t want to acknowledge. It wasn’t just denial anymore but resistance, deliberate and sustained, and Eddie could see it for what it was even if Buck couldn’t, or wouldn’t, name it.

Buck told himself Eddie was wrong, repeating it each time the thought surfaced, each time something felt slightly off in a way he couldn’t quite explain, each time his body did something that didn’t line up with how it should've felt. It would've been easier to dismiss if it had stayed vague, if it had remained a collection of small inconsistencies that never quite formed into anything concrete, but it hadn’t, not after what Eddie had said out loud, not after the word had taken shape in a way Buck couldn’t quite ignore.

The word pregnancy sat in his mind in a way that made everything else feel slightly distorted around it, like it had shifted the shape of things without fully settling into place. It didn’t make sense and it couldn’t make sense, not when he knew what he knew and had been told in terms that had never left room for interpretation. Except that now he couldn’t quite unsee it, and that was the problem. He caught himself noticing things he would've ignored before, the way his balance felt just slightly off when he stood up too quickly, the way his stomach turned at times that didn’t line up with anything he could pin down, the way food either appealed too strongly or not at all, inconsistent and unpredictable in a way that should've made it easier to dismiss.

It didn’t. Because now there was a framework for it, something his mind kept circling back to whether he wanted it to or not, and even as he pushed against it, argued it down, reminded himself of what he knew to be true, the thought remained. He’d been tested, and that hadn't been uncertain or vague or half remembered but clear and definitive, something explained to him in terms he had understood even at that age, the kind of certainty that didn't leave room for interpretation. Either the gene was active or it wasn’t, and his wasn’t, and that had been the end of it. That was still the end of it. It had to be.

Buck moved through the next shift with that thought fixed firmly in place, holding onto it with a certainty that felt more deliberate now, more constructed, like something he had to keep reinforcing rather than something that came naturally. Eddie didn’t push him, not directly, but the awareness of him was constant, a steady presence at the edge of Buck’s attention that made it difficult to forget what had been said, and it wasn’t just that Eddie was watching him, it was that Buck knew why, and that was what made it harder.

The near miss from the previous shift lingered more than Buck wanted to admit, not because it had been serious but because it had been noticeable, just enough to confirm that something had been off in a way that couldn’t be entirely explained away. He’d recovered quickly, pushed through it, finished the call without issue, and that should've been enough, but it wasn’t, not when Eddie had seen it and Buck couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had.

The shift passed without incident, but the underlying tension didn’t ease, settling instead into something that followed them back to the station, into the quieter moments between calls, into the spaces where conversation would normally have filled the gap and now didn’t. Buck kept moving, kept himself occupied with small, unnecessary tasks, anything that gave him something concrete to focus on instead of the thoughts that kept circling back no matter how many times he pushed them aside, and it worked to a point but not completely, the cracks showing in ways he couldn’t entirely control, in the moments where he slowed without meaning to, where his attention slipped just enough that he had to catch himself and correct it.

Eddie noticed all of it and said nothing, and that might have been worse, because it meant Buck didn’t have anything to push against, no argument to deflect, no words to shut down, just the quiet, steady awareness that Eddie was still seeing it, still tracking it, still waiting. By the time the shift ended, Buck was tired in a way that went beyond the usual physical exhaustion, something heavier settling under his skin that he couldn’t quite shake. He made it through the drive back without speaking much, the silence stretching between them in a way that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but wasn’t easy either, and he was the one who broke it.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he said, not looking over, his tone more observational than accusatory. Eddie didn’t pretend not to understand what he meant. “Yeah,” he said simply. Buck nodded once, a small movement that didn’t resolve anything. “You’re not going to drop it.” “No,” Eddie said, just as direct. There was a brief pause as the weight of that settled between them, and Buck let out a slow breath, his grip tightening slightly on nothing in particular as he stared ahead.

“You really think something’s wrong,” he said. Eddie didn’t hesitate. “I do.” Buck swallowed, the response sitting heavier than he expected because it wasn’t said with doubt or hesitation, just quiet certainty, the same certainty Buck had been trying to hold onto himself. “That’s not the same as what you said before,” he replied, and the distinction mattered, even if he hadn’t fully worked out why yet. Eddie glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It is,” he said. “You just don’t like what it points to.”

Buck let out a short breath at that, something almost like a laugh but without any real humour behind it. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” The honesty of it hung between them, not sharp or defensive but real in a way that made it harder to dismiss, and they didn’t take it further than that, the conversation settling back into silence that wasn’t the same as before, something shifted enough to make it clear that ignoring it wasn’t working the way it had been. Buck knew that. He just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

The appointment came up almost by accident, routine enough that it might have been overlooked if Buck hadn’t mentioned it in passing, more out of obligation than interest, scrolling through something on his phone while he stood in the kitchen, half distracted and already moving on to something else. “I’ve got a check-up tomorrow,” he said, like it was nothing. “Just the usual stuff. Bloods, vitals, whatever.” Eddie didn’t react straight away, but something in him stilled, the words settling into place with a weight that felt disproportionate to how casually they’d been said. “Tomorrow?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

Buck nodded, not looking up. “Yeah. Figured I might as well get it done.” It was the first time in days that Buck had said anything that sounded like he might be willing to look at what was going on, even if he didn’t realise that was what he was doing, and Eddie felt something shift at that, something that might have been relief if it hadn’t been tangled up with everything else. “I’ll come with you,” he said. That got Buck’s attention, and he looked up properly this time, a faint frown pulling at his expression. “You don’t have to do that.” “I know,” Eddie said. “I want to.”

Buck hesitated, the reflex to refuse flickering across his face before he seemed to reconsider, something uncertain passing through his expression that he didn’t quite manage to hide. “It’s just a check-up,” he said, quieter now, like he was trying to reassure himself as much as Eddie. Eddie held his gaze, accepting the reassurance without pretending it meant more than it did. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

The clinic was exactly what Eddie expected it to be, neutral and unremarkable in a way that was meant to put people at ease and rarely did. Buck treated it the same way he treated everything else he didn’t want to think about, with a kind of careless confidence that looked convincing if you didn’t know him well enough to see past it, checking in, making a few light comments to the nurse, and settling into the routine of it all with an ease that felt just a little too deliberate, while Eddie stayed quiet because he didn’t need to fill the space.

The blood draw came first, quick and efficient, the kind of thing Buck barely seemed to notice, his attention already elsewhere as the nurse labelled the vials and moved on, but Eddie watched anyway, tracking the process with a focus that had nothing to do with the procedure itself and everything to do with what might come after. Buck leaned back in the chair once it was done, rolling his sleeve back down with a small shrug before glancing over. “See?” he said, a hint of something lighter in his tone, like he was already expecting the outcome to prove his point. “Easy.” Eddie didn’t respond, not because he didn’t hear him but because this wasn’t the part that mattered, and the silence that followed stretched just enough to shift something in the air between them.

The wait felt longer than it should've, not in any measurable way but in the way it settled, time slowing just enough that every minute carried more weight than it had any right to, and Buck filled it with idle conversation that never quite landed, half distracted and only partially engaged. Eddie stayed still, his attention fixed in a way that made everything else fade into the background, and Buck could feel it, not just the waiting but the way Eddie had gone quiet, the way his focus had narrowed into something Buck couldn’t quite read but recognised anyway.

It would've been easier if Eddie had pushed, if he’d said something, given Buck something to push back against, but this was worse because the silence left too much room for everything Buck had been trying not to think about. The word surfaced again whether he wanted it to or not, settling into place before he could stop it, and this time it didn’t pass as quickly as it had before, lingering in a way that made everything else feel slightly off balance. He shifted in his seat without quite knowing why, adjusting in a way that felt instinctive rather than deliberate, his hand hovering briefly at his midsection before dropping again, and even that small movement felt louder than it should’ve, enough that he didn’t need to look to know Eddie had seen it.

When the doctor came back, something changed, subtle but immediate, the carefulness in the way he moved, the way his expression settled into something measured before he spoke, and Eddie recognised it before a word was said, the pattern lining up in a way that left very little room for anything else. “Mr Buckley,” the doctor said, and there was a pause there that carried more weight than it should’ve. “We’re going to need to run an additional scan.” Buck frowned, the first real crack in his composure showing through. “Why?” The doctor didn’t answer straight away, and that hesitation was enough to shift the moment further, turning uncertainty into something heavier, something that settled into place whether Buck was ready for it or not. “Just to clarify something in your results,” he said eventually, though the explanation felt too vague to be reassuring.

Buck glanced at Eddie, something uncertain flickering across his face before he looked back. “What kind of scan?” There was another pause, brief but deliberate, before the answer came. “An ultrasound.” The word settled into the space between them with a weight that Eddie felt immediately, recognition sharp and unavoidable, his understanding snapping into place before he could stop it, while Buck’s reaction came differently, confusion pulling in where recognition should’ve been.

“Why would I need an ultrasound?” he asked, slower now, like he was trying to make it line up with something that made sense. Eddie didn’t answer, not because he didn’t want to but because he already knew, and saying it out loud would turn it into something that couldn’t be taken back, something Buck wasn’t ready to hear from him. They followed the nurse down the hall in silence, the weight of it pressing in on both sides, though only one of them fully understood why yet, and Buck could feel it, the shift in the air, the way something had tilted into place without his permission. The word echoed again, not making sense, not fitting, and he held onto that, onto the certainty that it couldn’t mean what Eddie had suggested, because that had already been decided, already been tested, already been settled in a way that wasn’t supposed to change.

The room they were led into was dimmer, quieter, the kind of space that made everything feel more deliberate, more focused on what was about to happen, and Buck hesitated at the threshold for just a second before stepping inside, like some part of him already understood that once he crossed into it, there would be no easy way to step back out again. “Just lie back for me,” the technician said, calm and routine, moving through the preparation with an ease that only made the tension sharper by contrast. Buck did, settling onto the table with a stiffness he didn’t quite recognise in himself, while Eddie stayed where he was, close enough to reach but not crowding him, his attention fixed entirely on Buck as the gel was applied and the probe positioned, the screen flickering to life with a soft hum.

For a moment, nothing resolved into anything Buck could recognise, shapes and shadows that didn’t make sense, that didn’t line up with anything he understood, and he found himself staring at it longer than he meant to, waiting for it to shift into something familiar that never came. “What am I looking at?” he asked, and this time there was no edge to it, just uncertainty, quiet and unguarded in a way that hadn’t been there before. Eddie didn’t answer, because he already knew what it was, and this time there was no pushing the thought aside, no forcing it back into something that didn’t make sense.

There was only waiting, the moment stretching as the reality of it settled into place whether Buck saw it yet or not, and Eddie stayed where he was, steady and present, knowing it wasn’t his place to be the one to say it first. He let Buck look at the screen for as long as he needed, saying nothing while the answer remained just beyond his understanding.

The technician didn’t answer straight away, and that hesitation was enough to change the shape of the moment, turning it from something uncertain into something deliberate, the kind of pause that carried meaning even before anything was said. She adjusted the probe slightly, angling it with a precision that suggested she was confirming something rather than looking for it, and Eddie felt the recognition settle fully into place, quiet but undeniable, because he had already seen enough to know what he was looking at even if no one had said it out loud yet.

His hand found Buck’s without him fully registering the movement, fingers closing around his in a steady, grounding hold that came more from instinct than decision, and Buck didn’t react to the contact at first because he was still staring at the screen, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, his gaze moving over it without recognition, searching for something that would make it align with what he already knew to be true and not finding it. “I don’t understand,” he said, quieter now, the confusion no longer defensive but genuine. “What is that?” Eddie looked at him rather than the screen, taking in the way Buck’s composure had started to shift, the way certainty had given way to something far less stable, and for a moment he didn’t answer, not because he didn’t have one but because he knew saying it would change everything in a way that couldn’t be undone. “You know what it is,” he said instead, his voice low, not pushing, not forcing, just there.

Buck shook his head immediately, too quickly, like the motion itself might be enough to reject it, but even as he did it something was already shifting, because the pieces were there now, not just what he was seeing but everything that had led up to it, every symptom he had tried to dismiss, every moment Eddie had pointed out, every argument he had pushed back against because it hadn’t made sense. He’d been so sure, and that was the part that didn’t settle, the part that caught on everything else as it tried to rearrange itself into something new, because he’d been told clearly, definitively, that it wasn’t possible, that the gene wasn’t active, that it wouldn’t change, and he had believed that without question because there had never been a reason not to. He’d argued with Eddie because of it, held onto it like fact, and now he was standing here, staring at something that didn’t line up with any of that, the certainty he’d relied on giving way under the weight of what was actually in front of him.

The technician stepped back slightly, her expression careful in a way that made it clear she already knew what they hadn’t said out loud yet. “I’m going to get the doctor,” she said, and this time there was no attempt to soften it, no reassurance added to the edges, and she left the room without waiting for a response. The silence that followed wasn’t empty but full, heavy with everything that had been said and everything that hadn’t, the reality of it sitting between them in a way that couldn’t be pushed aside anymore, and Buck’s hand tightened slightly in Eddie’s without him seeming to realise he was doing it.

“Eddie,” he said, and there was something in his voice now that hadn’t been there before, something uncertain that edged toward something deeper. “What is that?” Eddie didn’t look away, because there wasn’t any point in softening it now, not when Buck already knew enough for the truth to land. “It’s a baby,” he said quietly. The words settled into the room without resistance, and Buck went still, the meaning taking a second to catch up before it landed fully, not gradually but all at once, rearranging everything he’d been holding onto in a way that didn’t leave room for it to stay intact.

“That’s…” he started, his breath catching slightly as he shook his head. “That’s not possible.” “I know what you were told,” Eddie said, his voice steady, his grip not loosening. Buck let out a short, disbelieving breath, something almost like a laugh but too strained to carry any real humour, his gaze flicking back to Eddie as though looking for something solid to hold onto. “You said it too,” he added. “You said it didn’t make sense.” “I said something changed,” Eddie replied, just as steady.

Buck shook his head again, slower this time, less certain, like the denial didn’t quite hold the same weight it had before, because it didn’t match what he was seeing anymore. “That’s not how it works,” he said, though it sounded more like something he was repeating than something he fully believed. Eddie didn’t argue it, because he didn’t need to, not when the proof was already there in front of them. The doctor came back quickly, the lack of delay speaking louder than anything else, and when he stepped into the room the careful neutrality from before had shifted into something more focused.

“Mr Buckley,” he said, his tone calm but precise. “I understand this is unexpected.” Buck dragged a hand back through his hair, the movement restless rather than frustrated. “That’s one way of putting it.” The doctor stepped closer, glancing at the screen before looking back at him. “You are approximately twenty weeks pregnant.” This time, the words didn’t bounce off; they landed. Buck didn’t argue immediately, didn’t try to dismiss it, just stared at the screen again as though giving it more time might change what he was seeing, but it didn’t, and the number settled into place with a weight that felt different from everything else.

Twenty weeks, halfway. The thought came uninvited, and with it came something else, something that shifted the moment in a way he hadn’t expected, because halfway meant this wasn’t new, meant this had already been there with him through everything, through every shift, every call, every moment he’d spent insisting nothing was wrong. That should've been overwhelming. Instead, something steadier slipped in alongside it. His grip tightened around Eddie’s hand, this time deliberate, and when he looked up the confusion hadn’t disappeared but it had changed, threaded now with something else that hadn’t been there before.

“We’re…” he started, pausing briefly like he was testing the shape of it before committing to it out loud. “We’re having a baby?” Eddie didn’t hesitate, his answer immediate in a way that left no room for doubt. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady in a way that grounded rather than pushed. “We are.” Buck let out a slow breath, his gaze dropping for a second before lifting again, and this time when he looked at the screen he wasn’t searching for something else. He was trying to see it. “That’s…” he started again, then huffed out a breath, something lighter slipping through despite everything. “That’s a lot.” Eddie’s mouth pulled slightly, not quite a smile but close enough to soften the edge of everything else. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

Buck looked at him then, properly this time, and whatever he saw there seemed to settle something further, not everything, not all at once, but enough that the tension in his shoulders eased, enough that the reaction stopped fighting itself. “Okay,” he said, quieter now but more certain. “Okay.” His hand didn’t leave Eddie’s, and Eddie didn’t let go, the contact steady and unspoken, something they both held onto as the reality of it settled into place around them.

The rest of the appointment passed in a way that felt both too fast and too slow, the details settling around Buck without quite anchoring at first, the doctor’s explanations careful and thorough as he outlined what they could confirm, what would need monitoring, and what came next, but the words seemed to move around Buck rather than through him, like his mind hadn’t fully caught up with the reality of what they meant. Eddie caught more of it, listening with a steady focus, asking questions where it mattered, grounding the information in a way that made it feel structured rather than overwhelming, and Buck was aware of that even if he couldn’t fully engage, the quiet reassurance of it sitting under everything else.

Twenty weeks kept circling back, not as panic exactly, but as something that shifted the way everything else fit together, the timeline rearranging itself in a way that made Buck’s chest tighten and settle at the same time, because it meant this wasn’t new, meant it had already been there with him through everything he’d done without knowing. The thought that he should've noticed surfaced automatically, sharp enough to catch before he could push it aside, and for a moment it threatened to pull everything back into something heavier, something edged with guilt rather than anything else, but Eddie cut through it before it could take hold, his voice quiet but firm in a way that didn’t leave room for argument. “You didn’t know,” he said, and Buck glanced at him, something shifting at the certainty in it, because Eddie wasn’t just trying to reassure him, he meant it.

Buck still shook his head slightly, not in disagreement so much as in reflex, the instinct to take responsibility settling in before he could stop it, and when he spoke his voice was quieter, less certain than it had been earlier. “I should've,” he said, the words trailing off as he tried to reconcile them with everything else, because he had been working, going on calls, doing everything the same, and none of that sat easily with what he knew now. Eddie didn’t let that sit unchallenged, his response immediate but steady, reframing it without dismissing it, reminding him that he had been doing his job, that nothing about that suddenly became wrong just because they knew more now, and the way he said it shifted something, not erasing the thought entirely but placing it somewhere it didn’t have to take over everything else.

Buck exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders even if it didn’t disappear completely, and when he looked back at the screen, the image didn’t feel quite as abstract as it had before, not fully understood but no longer completely unfamiliar either, something about it starting to settle into place in a way that made it feel less distant. He found himself focusing on it differently now, not trying to make it into something else but trying to understand what it already was, and when he spoke again his voice was quieter, more grounded, like he was still working through the shape of it as he said it. “That’s ours,” he said, and Eddie followed his gaze, the shift in Buck subtle but unmistakable, something in his expression softening in response. “Yeah,” Eddie said, his tone steady in a way that anchored rather than pushed, and Buck let out a small breath at that, something almost like a laugh slipping through despite everything, the disbelief still there but no longer overwhelming everything else. There was something lighter threaded through it now, something that hadn’t been there earlier, and when he glanced at Eddie again there was a flicker of it in his expression, uncertain but real.

The doctor continued, moving through next steps in a way that felt more grounded now that the initial shock had passed, outlining follow ups, adjustments, things that would need to change moving forward. This time Buck caught more of it, not everything but enough to stay present, enough to understand the shape of what came next, while Eddie stayed close beside him, his hand still wrapped around Buck’s, steady and unyielding in a way that made the whole thing feel less like something happening to them and more like something they were already facing together.

By the time they stepped out of the clinic, the air felt different, sharper after the controlled quiet of the room, and Buck paused just outside the door, like he needed a second to recalibrate before moving forward, the number still sitting in his mind but no longer in the same way it had before. When he spoke again, it wasn’t with disbelief so much as something closer to processing, the words slower, more deliberate. “Twenty weeks,” he said, and Eddie stepped up beside him, close but not crowding, the response coming easily now. “Halfway,” Eddie said, and Buck huffed out a breath, the word landing differently this time, something in it settling rather than unsettling, and when he repeated it there was a steadiness to it that hadn’t been there before. He let that sit for a moment, the reality of it shifting into something he could hold onto rather than something he needed to push against, and when he looked at Eddie again the uncertainty hadn’t disappeared but it had changed, no longer something he was fighting but something he was beginning to move through.

“We’re really doing this,” he said, quieter now but more certain, and Eddie didn’t hesitate, his answer immediate and grounded in a way that made it feel solid rather than overwhelming. “Yeah,” he said. “We are.” Buck nodded slowly, like he was letting that settle properly this time, and even though there were still questions, still things they hadn’t worked out yet, the space between them felt steadier, less strained, something shared rather than something dividing them, and that was enough for now to let him exhale, to let the weight of it shift into something he could begin to carry rather than something he had to resist.

The drive back felt quieter than the ones before it, but not in the same strained way the silence had carried over the past few days, the tension no longer sitting sharp between them but settled into something softer, something that didn’t need to be filled quite so urgently. Buck leaned back against the seat, his head turned slightly towards the window, watching the city move past in a way that suggested he wasn’t really seeing it, his thoughts still circling everything that had just happened, but this time they weren’t fighting it in the same way.

Eddie kept his attention on the road, but not entirely, his awareness still fixed on Buck in the way it had been since the appointment, tracking the small shifts without making it obvious, the way Buck’s shoulders had eased slightly, the way his breathing had evened out, the way his hand rested more deliberately now against his abdomen rather than hovering there without thought. None of it was dramatic, but it was different, and Eddie felt that difference settle somewhere steady in his chest.

Buck broke the silence first, his voice quieter than usual but not strained, more thoughtful than anything else. “You knew,” he said, not accusing, just stating it, and when Eddie glanced over briefly there wasn’t any tension in the look he got back, just something searching. Eddie didn’t pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he said, and then, after a second, “I wasn’t sure at first, but… yeah.” Buck let out a small breath at that, something almost like a laugh slipping through, though it wasn’t really humour so much as disbelief softened into something easier to carry. “You figured it out before I did,” he said, and there was no edge to it now, just quiet acceptance threaded with something else Eddie couldn’t quite name. Eddie shook his head slightly. “I noticed things,” he said. “That’s not the same.” “It kind of is,” Buck replied, but it wasn’t an argument, just an observation, and when he shifted slightly in his seat, his hand moved again, this time settling without hesitation, his palm resting flat like he was trying to connect the idea of it to something real.

Eddie noticed, but he didn’t comment on it straight away, and something about it pulled his attention more fully, the movement deliberate in a way that made it clear Buck wasn’t doing it unconsciously anymore, and when Buck glanced over and caught him looking, there was a flicker of something lighter in his expression that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Don’t,” Buck said, though there was no real warning in it. “You’re already thinking too much.” Eddie huffed quietly. “I’m allowed to think,” he said, but the response was softer than it would've been before, the edge worn down by everything that had shifted between them. “Yeah,” Buck said, his mouth pulling slightly at one corner, something faintly amused threading through it now. “That’s the problem.” Eddie glanced at him again, holding the look a second longer this time. “You’re not getting out of this by making fun of me,” he said. “I’m not trying to get out of it,” Buck replied, and that was the difference, because he wasn’t, not anymore, the resistance that had been there before no longer sitting under his words. “I’m just saying, you’re going to be unbearable about this.” Eddie raised an eyebrow slightly. “Going to be?” Buck let out a quiet breath that turned into something closer to a real laugh this time, softer but genuine, and the sound of it shifted something further, something that had been tight for days finally easing. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” he admitted. “You already are.”

Eddie didn’t argue it, but there was a hint of a smile there now, small but steady. “I’m still coming with you to the next appointment,” he said instead. Buck glanced at him, something warmer settling into his expression. “You weren’t going to let me go alone anyway.” “No,” Eddie said simply. “I wasn’t.” Buck nodded once, like he’d expected that, like it wasn’t even a question, and the certainty of it seemed to settle into place just as easily as everything else had started to, the space between them no longer edged with tension but filled with something quieter, something that felt more like them again.

By the time they reached the house, that feeling had settled further, not dramatic, not overwhelming, just steady in a way that made everything else easier to hold. Buck moved through the door first, dropping his keys onto the counter with a soft clatter before pausing, his hand resting there for a second like he was grounding himself before moving further in. Eddie followed, closing the door behind them, and for a moment neither of them spoke, the quiet of the space settling around them in a way that felt different now, less like something waiting to be broken and more like something they could stand in without it shifting under them.

Buck turned slightly, leaning back against the counter, his gaze drifting for a moment before landing on Eddie again, something softer there now, something that hadn’t quite been present before everything had come to a head. “Hey,” he said, and there was no tension in it at all. Eddie stepped closer without thinking about it, the distance between them closing in a way that felt automatic rather than deliberate. “Hey,” he replied. There was a brief pause, but it didn’t stretch, didn’t carry weight in the same way it had before, and Buck shook his head slightly, like he was still trying to catch up with the shift in everything. “This is… a lot,” he said, but there was no resistance in it now, just honesty. “Yeah,” Eddie said, just as steady. “It is.”

Buck studied him for a second, like he was checking something, like he was making sure this was still solid, and whatever he saw seemed to settle it, because when he moved it wasn’t hesitant, not really. He stepped forward, closing the last of the distance, his hand catching at Eddie’s shirt just slightly as he leaned in. The kiss wasn’t rushed, and it wasn’t desperate. It was familiar in a way that felt grounding, something that settled rather than overwhelmed, the kind of contact that reminded them both of what hadn’t changed even as everything else had shifted. Eddie’s hand came up to the back of Buck’s neck without hesitation, steadying him, anchoring him in place, and Buck leaned into it just slightly, the tension that had been sitting in him for days finally easing in a way that felt real.

When they pulled back, it wasn’t far, and Buck stayed close, his forehead brushing lightly against Eddie’s for a second before he let out a quiet breath, something softer than anything he’d said all day. “We’re having a baby,” he said, and this time it sounded less like disbelief and more like something he was letting himself believe. Eddie didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said. “We are.” Buck huffed out a small breath that turned into the beginning of a smile, something warm and a little unsteady but real. “Okay,” he said, and there was something settled in it now, something that didn’t need to be pushed or argued into place.

Eddie’s hand slipped from the back of his neck to rest briefly at his side, grounding more than holding, and Buck didn’t move away, didn’t pull back into distance the way he might have earlier, just stayed there, close and steady, like he’d made a decision somewhere in the middle of all of it and wasn’t going to undo it now. “Okay,” Eddie echoed, quieter, but just as certain, and this time it held.

The quiet between them didn’t feel uncertain anymore, not stretched thin or waiting to break, but settled into something steady, something that didn’t need to be questioned to hold. Buck hadn’t moved far after the kiss, still close enough that the space between them barely existed, his hand catching lightly in Eddie’s shirt again like he hadn’t quite finished grounding himself there, and Eddie let him, his own hand still resting warm and sure at Buck’s side, neither of them rushing to step away from something they’d only just found their way back to.

It wasn’t dramatic, the shift that had happened between them, but it was complete in a way that mattered more, the tension that had threaded through the last few days gone without leaving anything sharp behind it, replaced instead by something softer and more certain, something that felt like it had settled properly back into place. Buck leaned in again without overthinking it, another brief kiss, easier this time, familiar in a way that didn’t need to prove anything, and Eddie huffed a quiet breath against him that might have been a laugh, his hand sliding slightly at Buck’s side like he didn’t intend to let him go any time soon.

“Okay,” Buck said again when he pulled back, but there was a smile in it now, something lighter that hadn’t been there before, and Eddie caught it immediately, something answering in his own expression without him trying to hold it back. “Yeah,” Eddie said. “Okay.” Buck shook his head slightly, the disbelief still there but softened into something he could carry, his gaze flicking down briefly before coming back to Eddie, something warmer settling in behind it. “You realise this means you’re going to be worse, right?” he said. “Like, actually unbearable.” Eddie didn’t even pretend to argue it, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “You say that like it’s new.” “It’s not,” Buck said, a quiet laugh slipping through as he leaned back just enough to look at him properly. “It’s just going to get worse now that you’ve got a reason.” Eddie stepped in again instead of answering, closing the small distance Buck had created like it wasn’t even a question, his hand settling more deliberately at Buck’s side this time, grounding rather than tentative. “Good,” he said, his voice low but certain. “Get used to it.”

Buck huffed another breath that turned into a proper smile this time, the kind that stayed, and he didn’t move away when Eddie leaned in again, didn’t pull back into distance or deflection, just stayed where he was, letting it be easy, letting it be them. For a moment neither of them did anything more than stay there, the ease between them finally settling into something that didn’t need either of them to explain it.

The front door opened before either of them could step away, and Christopher’s voice carried in ahead of him, familiar and bright in a way that cut cleanly through everything else. “I’m home!” Buck startled just enough to pull back, though not far, his hand dropping from Eddie’s shirt but not completely leaving him, and Eddie turned slightly toward the hallway, his expression already shifting but not losing what had settled there.

Christopher stopped when he reached the kitchen, taking in the scene in a way that was far too perceptive for his age, his gaze flicking between them once, then again, and then narrowing slightly in a way that made it clear he’d already come to a conclusion. “You’re not arguing anymore,” he said, not a question. Buck blinked, then glanced at Eddie before looking back at Christopher, something almost sheepish flickering across his expression before it softened again. “No,” he said. “We’re not.” Christopher studied them for another second, then nodded once, satisfied in a way that suggested this outcome had been expected. “Good,” he said. “It was getting annoying.” Eddie huffed out a quiet breath at that. “Glad we could improve your living conditions.”

Christopher ignored that entirely, still watching them in a way that made it clear he wasn’t finished. “So what changed?” Buck hesitated, just for a second, the instinct to deflect flickering there before he let it go, his hand lifting again without thinking, settling more deliberately this time against his abdomen, and Eddie noticed immediately, his gaze following the movement before coming back up. Christopher noticed too, his eyes dropping, tracking the motion in a way that was quieter but no less sharp, and when he looked back up there was something more focused in his expression, curiosity shifting into something else. Buck glanced at Eddie again, a brief check, not for permission but for grounding, and Eddie gave a small nod, steady and certain, his hand brushing lightly against Buck’s side in a way that anchored the moment rather than rushed it. “We found something out,” Buck said, the words coming easier the second time he tried them. Christopher tilted his head slightly. “What kind of something?” Buck let out a small breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through, the disbelief still there but softened into something he could say out loud now. “The kind that means things are going to be a little different around here.” Christopher’s gaze flicked between them again, sharper now, and then back to Buck, his focus settling in a way that made it clear he was putting the pieces together quickly. “Different how?” Buck didn’t drag it out. “We’re having a baby,” he said.

The words landed cleanly, and for a moment Christopher just stared at him, the meaning catching up in real time, his expression shifting through confusion, then surprise, and then something much brighter. “Wait,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Like, actually?” Eddie nodded, his voice calm but warmer now. “Yeah,” he said. “Actually.” Christopher looked between them again, then back to Buck, his eyes dropping briefly to where Buck’s hand still rested before snapping back up, and then the realisation fully settled, breaking into something unmistakable. “That’s so cool,” he said, the words immediate and unfiltered, and Buck let out a breath that felt like it had been caught somewhere in his chest since the clinic, something easing properly for the first time.

“Yeah,” Buck said, a smile pulling at his mouth again, steadier now. “It is.” Christopher leaned forward slightly, already thinking ahead. “Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Eddie let out a quiet laugh at that, the sound lighter than anything he’d managed earlier. “We could’ve found out today,” he said, glancing briefly at Buck before looking back at Christopher, something softer in his expression now. “But we were both a little too in shock to even think about asking.” Buck huffed out a small breath beside him, something that might have been a laugh, his shoulders easing further as the moment settled.

Christopher nodded like that made complete sense, already moving on to the next thought. “Okay, but we’re finding out, right?” Buck glanced at Eddie again, and this time the look was lighter, easier, something shared rather than searching, and Eddie nodded slightly, the answer already settled between them. “Yeah,” Buck said. “We will.” Christopher leaned back again, still smiling, the excitement in him bright and immediate in a way that filled the space completely, and Buck felt something shift again, something deeper this time, the reality of it settling into place not just as an idea but as something that already belonged here, already part of them.

Eddie’s hand found Buck’s again without thinking about it, fingers brushing before settling properly, and Buck didn’t look away from Christopher as he laced them together this time, the contact steady and deliberate, something shared rather than tentative. They didn’t need to say anything else, because now it wasn’t just them but all of them, and the certainty they had been circling finally settled into place in a way that didn’t feel like it would shift again.

Archive of Our Own

Actions

Work Header

That Shouldn't Be Happening

BucksDirection

Summary:

Work Text:

Series this work belongs to:

Actions

Kudos

Comments

Footer

About the Archive

Contact Us

Development