Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down
Rob Thomas – Ever The Same
Red Vines, Junior Mints, M&Ms, and Cookie Dough Bites. Four bags of microwave popcorn. Two 2-liter bottles of soda. And lots of napkins, because lessons have been learned.
But not all lessons, apparently. Even with Christopher happily holding the front door wide open, Buck is struggling to make it inside without dropping anything, so Eddie hurries over as he shakes his head.
"You know you could've texted me from the curb for some help carrying all of this."
"I was afraid you might not let me in once you saw what I bought."
"I'll always let you in, Buck," Eddie promises. "But I'll also put you in charge of peeling Christopher off the ceiling when it's bedtime."
"Bedtime? There's no such thing as bedtime when we're having an epic movie marathon."
"Yeah," Christopher chimes in, all too happy to side with Buck. "We have to stay up and watch all of the movies Buck didn't get a chance to watch when he was my age."
'Didn't get a chance to watch' is oversimplifying it, of course. A childhood full of emotional neglect didn't exactly lend itself to movie nights like this, no matter how much Maddie tried to make up for everything their parents weren't. So, yeah, Buck missed out on some basic fun as a kid, and they're doing what they can to make up for it now.
And when Buck and Christopher turn to him with those wide eyes and tiny pouts – well, it's really, really hard to say no to either of them.
"Fine. No bedtime," Eddie agrees. "But I do want you to change into your pajamas before we get started, just in case you accidentally fall asleep out here."
"Is Buck going to fall asleep out here, too?"
Eddie laughs. "I don't know, but if Buck would like to get changed, he knows he's welcome to grab clothes from my room."
Eddie had already thrown on some sweatpants as soon as he'd gotten home, so when Christopher and Buck scamper down the hall, Eddie piles the candy on the coffee table and goes to grab cups for the soda. He's not allowed to make the popcorn anymore – apparently people don't like it burned – so Buck returns to take care of that while Eddie sets up the movie and Christopher wriggles into the middle of the couch.
Everything seems ready to go, other than the missing popcorn, so Eddie joins Buck in the kitchen.
"You okay in here?"
"Yeah, I'm great," Buck says as he turns, his smile genuine even while his eyes carry a shadow of something sadder. "Just—thank you for this. And before you say it's for Christopher and not really a big deal—I know what you're doing for me and it is a big deal."
They share a look, and the second it lasts might have turned into a lifetime if the lights around them didn't choose that moment to flicker before they lose power entirely.
Eddie freezes. His shoulder aches. He can't breathe.
"Dad! Buck!"
And he can't do this now. He has to go to his son. It's just a blackout, Eddie screams at himself, but it's hard to make that matter when he was staring into Buck's eyes as the whole world went dark.
Again.
But then Buck finds his hand, a wish that hadn't come true the day he lay bleeding in the street, squeezing it once and leaning close.
"I've got you. But I need to go help Chris for a minute. Don't move. I've got you."
Eddie isn't sure whether he gasped or whimpered or made any other sound at all, or whether Buck just knows, but Eddie's gratitude is overwhelming. He wants to whisper his thanks, but Buck is already by Christopher's side, soothing Eddie from afar with an unending string of words Eddie can't quite hear.
Minutes, hours – or probably only seconds – later, Buck returns to the kitchen. He's careful to touch Eddie before he does anything else, the contact helping Eddie from getting spooked by any unexpected movement or a sound coming from the wrong direction, even as his eyes begin to adjust. Then Buck grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and presses it into Eddie's hand.
"Chris is fine—just a little freaked out like we are. I told him that the best thing to do during a blackout is make an awesome blanket fort, so we're gonna do that, but that means I've gotta move around, and I'll be opening and closing drawers and cabinets to get everything we need." Buck reaches up to cradle the side of Eddie's head. "Will you be okay for a little longer?"
Eddie nods, knowing Buck can feel more than he sees. And maybe it's always been that way.
He's starting to understand now, how easily Buck has anticipated what Eddie has needed throughout his recovery, all the times he's sensed a change in Eddie's comfort before Eddie's even grasped it himself. Buck shares too much of the same trauma, but he's still willing to carry some of Eddie's for him. And if Eddie's being honest with himself, that was true long before the shooting.
So now Buck works to save their night and a little of Eddie's sanity, talking to Christopher in a quietly excited voice as he gathers stuff for the fort. Not for the first time, he marvels at how easily Buck moves through his home, and even total darkness hasn't changed that. After several minutes, once a couple of LED lanterns have illuminated the living room and Christopher is focused on some very important part of the blanket fort construction process, Buck comes back again.
"Do you want to sit in the dining room while we finish up?"
"I don't know. Christopher—"
"Is a very smart kid," Buck interrupts, his voice still low. "He knows you need some time before you rejoin the party."
Eddie's brow furrows, but he can't possibly be upset. His kid has the biggest heart of anyone he knows, and Buck isn't far behind. "Okay."
He settles at the table and takes another drink of his water while he watches Christopher and Buck work as a team, Buck taking care of stretching sheets over some of the higher furniture as Christopher scrambles to build a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. Eddie has to admit it looks cozy, and after a long, deep breath, he finally gets up to join them. Christopher smiles wide when Eddie ducks inside, and greets him with a hug.
"Hey, dad. I'm glad you're back."
"I'm glad I'm back, too," Eddie agrees. "This looks like a pretty amazing place to hang out. But what's the plan now that we can't watch movies?"
"Buck's gonna teach me a million versions of solitaire and then I'm gonna tell him some ghost stories with a flashlight under my face to make it extra scary."
Eddie chuckles and it feels almost normal. "Are we still eating all the candy?"
"Heck yeah, we are," Buck says with mock exasperation. "I'm sort of offended that you would even ask. It's like you don't know me at all."
But he does, of course. Eddie knows Buck, and loves him, too.
And he thinks Buck might even love him back.
So, the three of them stay tucked away in the fort while they play cards and tell stories and make up jokes and sip soda through Red Vines with the ends bit off. They act out scenes from their favorite movies and argue about the best flavors of ice cream. Christopher admits he got a little scared when all the lights went out. Buck tells him he got a little scared, too. Neither of them makes Eddie feel like he's the most screwed up of them all.
Despite the 'no bedtime' promise, Christopher passes out on the couch when the fun winds down, his face pressed into the cushions and one leg dangling off the side. Crouching beneath the sheet ceiling, Eddie adjusts Chris into a position that looks a little less awkward and covers him with a blanket, then dims the lanterns to almost nothing at all.
He's okay with darkness he can control.
"Are you going to your room now?" Buck asks from the floor.
"Not sure how comfortable that would be. I think all the pillows and blankets are down there."
"And I'm down here, too."
It's—a lot, that quiet honesty, but it's all he wants right now. And maybe it becomes a little easier when he can't see his feelings mirrored in Buck's eyes. "Then there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Eddie makes his way into the ridiculous nest Christopher made, so many layers making it surprisingly comfortable. He isn't sure what comes next, what's allowed between friends lying together in the dark; he's never really known how to ask for what he needs, but Buck turns then, easily finding Eddie's heart and resting his palm there. It's a blessing and a curse, Eddie thinks, the contact soothing him even as the rapid beat gives all his secrets away.
He puts his own hand on top of Buck's and holds it still. "Thank you."
"Eddie—"
"No, I—you're gonna say this was for Christopher and that it wasn't a big deal," Eddie argues, repeating Buck's words from earlier. "But I know what you did for me, and it was a big deal."
Buck pulls his hand free then, using it to tug Eddie closer instead. Eddie goes willingly, pliant as he curls against Buck's body, their legs tangling as though is just something they do.
"Actually, I was going to say that I've still got you. Whenever. However. Even when you feel okay again."
Feeling okay seems damn near impossible sometimes, but Eddie thinks he might have found the closest thing to it in Buck's arms. He tucks one hand under Buck's shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin, and they relax into the silence until Eddie brushes his thumb against Buck's stomach and starts to talk.
"You know, I don't think it was really the darkness that got to me," Eddie whispers. "I mean, yeah, there was a moment where I went from seeing you, to just—not. The blackness that took over was so much like that day, and it stopped me, but there was also a lot of peace in that."
"Peace?"
"Knowing you were still there. After I got shot, and again tonight—I knew you were there," he explains. "So, the blackout itself wasn't really the problem. I just can't handle—"
"Surprises."
"Yeah."
Buck moves slowly when he starts to comb his fingers through Eddie's hair, the intimacy overwhelming when all their senses have been heightened by the relative loss of sight. "It makes sense though."
"Does it?" Eddie wonders. "Because I spent a lot of time in a literal warzone, and yeah, I still deal with plenty of shit from that, but I've always been able to function. And now I have job that's entirely unpredictable and we've been through some crazy, dangerous calls together, but nothing has fucked me up like this has."
The panic is rising again, but Buck stays calm even as Eddie tightens his grip on Buck's side. He feels Buck's hand slide down the side of his face until Buck holds a single finger against Eddie's lips to quiet him.
"You were shot in the middle of the street in broad daylight, Eddie. And I'm not about to minimize any of the other hell you've survived, but I don't think any of that – Afghanistan, being a firefighter – is the same situation. When you're fighting a war or charging into a burning building, you're prepared for the worst-case scenario. Your defenses are up, and you know your life is on the line. It doesn't protect you from trauma at all, it's just different. It's not a surprise."
Eddie sighs and Buck lets his hand fall away from his mouth. "You already knew, didn't you? How hard it's been for me. During my recovery, the way you've tried to shield me—you knew."
"I told you, I've got you."
"So, what now?"
"Patience, therapy, forgiveness," Buck answers.
"I'm supposed to forgive the guy who shot me?"
"No. You're supposed to forgive yourself. You've been down this road, remember? Trying to forget your own grief so you can smile and be strong for everyone else's sake? I don't recommend it."
Buck isn't wrong, but he's forgetting one important thing. Eddie presses their foreheads together and tries to ignore how easily they breathe the same air. "And you'll do the same? You'll forgive yourself?"
"For what?"
"For the nightmares you still have. For flinching nearly as often as I do. For hurting. For wanting." All the other words he wants so badly to speak are right there. The way they've been touching each other feels so right, and maybe the timing is all wrong, but Eddie just wants Buck to understand. "This will never work if either of us thinks we don't deserve it."
"This?" Buck murmurs, so much vulnerability hidden in just four letters, and Eddie aches with it as he closes the distance between them.
Their kiss is the most cautious thing, tender and quiet, but it carries the promise of more.
"This."