Buck is distracted during his phone call with Maddie (she's just calling to check in). He's trying to figure out how to respond to whatever just happened between him and Eddie. The tension had been real, right? Surely he wasn't just imagining it. But then Buck's phone had buzzed and Eddie couldn't have gotten out of there fast.
Of course, Buck could just talk to him about it. That would be the mature, adult thing to do and it would give him a definitive answer with no room for interpretation. Orrr he can just pretend like it never happened and see what Eddie does.
That's the option he goes with. After he finishes up with Maddie, he meanders into the kitchen, where Eddie is putting away the food he'd left out for Buck for breakfast. Buck clears his throat and Eddie jumps, turning.
"Sorry," Buck says with a small grin as Eddie puts a hand over his heart in an exaggerated display of surprise. "I didn't mean to startle you. Can I help with anything?"
"Nah, I got it," Eddie says. "I'm under strict orders from Maddie to make sure that you rest properly which I'm fairly certain means no cleaning up the kitchen. I'm almost done, anyway."
Buck groans, resting his arms on the back of a chair. "What am I supposed to do all day?"
"I've got some jigsaw puzzles," Eddie offers. It seems he has also gone the route of pretending it never happened. Buck isn't sure whether he's relieved or disappointed. "Or you're welcome to borrow any of my books you want. Or Christopher's, if that's more your speed."
"Ha, ha," Buck says. "You're lucky I don't feel like walking over there. I'd kick your ass."
Eddie snorts. "Yeah, right. We could play one of Chris's games-a relaxing one. None of the ones that make you jump off the couch."
"That's all of them," Buck says.
"Well, we could watch something?"
That's how they end up spending half an hour scrolling through three different streaming services in search of the perfect show to watch. Comedies are right out-laughing still hurts-as are any shows with a lot of shooting, which eliminates a decent amount of their options. Medical dramas are a no for both of finally settle on a Food Network.
"I used to want to be a chef," Buck says, and Eddie looks over at him.
"I didn't know that!"
"Yeah, I used to wanna be a lot of things." He shrugs. "None of 'em stuck."
"Tell me about them," Eddie says, and Buck frowns.
"About who?"
Eddie grins, and it makes Buck's stomach flutter. "About the lot of things."
"Oh." Buck feels his cheeks go pink. Duh. "Have you seen the movie Cocktail?"
They end up chatting through the whole Chopped Jr. marathon. It's surprisingly easy, considering that awkward moment they'd had this morning. In fact, there's no tension at all as the two of them talk, and it just feels…nice.
He's about to tell Eddie the story of the time he rescued a baby opossum during his stint in construction when Eddie says, "I'm sure this is a really fascinating story, but do you need to lay down?"
"What?"
"It's just, you've yawned about five times in the last few minutes. And you look kind of beat, no offense."
Now that Eddie mentions it, Buck is starting to wind down. The bullet wound is getting achy, too. He'd been so occupied talking to Eddie that he hadn't noticed, but it's really hitting him now.
"You know, I am kinda tired," Buck admits.
"Why don't you go lay down?" He stands and reaches out with one hand. Buck accepts, and Eddie slowly pulls him to his feet. Buck does his best to bite back the groan that rises up from his chest, but it still manages to escape his tightly pressed lips.
"You okay?" Eddie says, brow furrowed.
"I'm good," Buck says, forcing a smile despite the ache in his torso. "Thank you."
They walk together to Eddie's bedroom and Buck sits on the edge of the bed. Eddie stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe in that cool, casual way of his.
"I may be gone when you wake up, I have a few groceries to get for dinner before I pick up Chris. You need anything?"
"I don't think so."
"What about right now, can I get you anything?"
"No, I'm alright." Buck says.
Eddie stays in the doorway, his expression unreadable and Buck isn't sure whether it's the man's protective instinct or something else. Finally, he speaks.
"If I'm not here when you wake up, promise me you won't do any heavy lifting."
Buck rolls his eyes.
"I mean it," Eddie says. "Promise."
"I promise."
"Damn straight. And if you need anything-anything-you call me. I mean it. Anything, Buck."
Buck knows he's talking about the nightmare last night. "I will."
Eddie nods. "Good. Sleep well, Buck."
Buck's heart pounds, his mouth going dry. He has the sudden urge to ask him to stay. But then what? So instead he says, "Thanks, Eddie."
And then Eddie disappears, closing the door behind him. Buck stares after him for a long time before he lays down and lets sleep take him.
xxx
"Damn it," Eddie mutters as a piece of eggshell finds its way into the brownie batter.
"You okay in there?" Chris calls.
"Yeah, I'm good!" Eddie says as he fishes out the tiny piece of shell.
They'd had fajitas for dinner. It's a new recipe for Eddie, but he thinks they turned out pretty good and judging by how much Christopher ate, he agrees. Buck's appetite isn't back to normal, but he seemed to enjoy it, too, based on his comment of, "You should watch Food Network more often!"
They'd done the weeknight ritual of Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune and now Eddie's working on dessert-brownies out of the box-while Chris and Buck choose a movie. The eggshell successfully extricated, Eddie grabs a rubber spatula and starts mixing the batter.
"Buck?" Eddie hears, and he stops stirring. "Buck?" And then louder, "Hey, Dad?"
Eddie's heart leaps in his chest and he drops the spatula, rushing to the living room. As he does, his stomach twists. Buck is leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head resting on clasped hands. His eyes are closed.
"Whoa, Buck," Eddie says, closing the space between himself and Buck and kneeling next to him. He puts a hand on Buck's arm. "Buck, you okay?"
"Hm?" Buck lifts his head a little, blinking blearily. "'m okay. Just a little dizzy…"
"Is he okay?" Chris asks quietly.
"Yeah," Eddie says. "Yeah, buddy. Hey, I need you to go get your pjs on."
"But Dad-"
"Christopher," Eddie says firmly. "I'm not asking."
"Okay." Chris lingers a moment before doing as Eddie says, his face pinched with worry.
"Hey, Buck?" Eddie says. It takes some effort to keep his voice steady. "You think you can sit up for me?"
Buck nods and Eddie grips his arm with one hand and puts the other on Buck's shoulder.
"Alright, take it slow," Eddie instructs as he helps Buck sit up. "Easy, easy. How long've you been feeling dizzy?"
Buck's face pulls into a grimace. "Uh…A bit?"
"A bit," Eddie repeats. "And you didn't tell me?"
"It wasn't so bad before…"
Eddie presses a hand to Buck's forehead and sucks air through his teeth, swearing inwardly.
"You definitely have a fever," he says, hoping that the fear he's feeling isn't making its way into his voice. "You just sit here and rest, I'll be right back."
He steps into the hallway, his phone already out of his pocket.
"Eddie?"
"Hey, Carla." He tries to keep his voice low, but in doing so it trembles. He hopes Carla doesn't notice. "I'm sorry to call you on your day off."
Carla definitely notices, because her voice has an edge to it when she says, "What's the matter? Is Christopher okay?"
"Yeah, we're both fine, just-I know this is a lot to ask, but do you think you could come stay with him? I'm not sure for how long, it's just. It's Buck."
The edge in her voice sharpens as she says, "Buck?"
"He's staying here while he gets back on his feet. He's-he's got a fever. I'm worried he may have an infection. I need to take him in but I don't-I don't want to put Chris through that, he's had to spend so much time in hospitals already and-"
"Eddie! Eddie, I'll be right there."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. You take care of Buck, I'll be there in ten minutes."
Eddie lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you so much, Carla. See you soon."
He hurries back to the living room. Buck's head is leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed, and Eddie can see now that there's a flush across his cheeks.
"Hey," Eddie says, crouching in front of Buck and putting a hand on the man's knee. He gives it a little shake and Buck groans, eyes moving beneath the lids for a moment before they open. "Carla's on her way and then I'm taking you to the ER. Listen, does anything hurt?"
Buck shakes his head, brow furrowing. "No. I mean, yeah but I was shot two weeks ago, remember? Eddie, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the ER, I just needa lay down…"
"What about your legs, do your legs hurt?"
The small frown on Buck's face deepens. "What? No, my legs are fine…"
"I'm just gonna take a look at the wound real quick," Eddie says, reaching forward to lift Buck's shirt. Buck makes an annoyed sound, but otherwise doesn't argue.
The incision looks okay, but Eddie could swear the bullet wound looks redder than it had yesterday. Damn it.
"Eddie I'm-"
"I know, you're fine. Only you might not be, Buck, and if anything happens to you then your sister is going to kill both of us, is that what you want?"
Buck makes a face and sighs. "No."
"I didn't think so. I'm gonna go grab your shoes."
Eddie stops by Chris's room on the way to his own. Chris looks up with round eyes.
"Is Buck okay?"
Eddie takes a deep breath. He knows better than to lie; Christopher has gotten way too good at seeing through it, and Eddie's being dishonest won't accomplish anything except to push his son away.
"He's got a fever, which could be his body's way of telling us that there's something else going on. I'm going to take him to the hospital, just to make sure everything is okay."
"What if it isn't?" Chris's voice is barely above a whisper and he looks like he's trying not to cry.
"Then the doctors will fix it," Eddie says firmly. "Carla is going to come stay with you while I'm gone…He'll be okay."
"Are you sure?"
Eddie steps forward and tousles Chris's hair. "I'm positive. It'll be okay." Part of him wants to stay here forever, to wrap his arms around his son and protect him from the world and never let go. But he knows he can't do that. And Buck needs him. So he plants a kiss on the top of Christopher's head. "Hang in there, kiddo."
He ducks into his room and grabs the first pair of shoes he sees-Buck's slippers-then hustles back out the living room. Buck is sitting up now, looking a little more alert, but his eyes still have the slightly glazed look that comes with fever.
"Here, put these on," he says, handing Buck the slippers. Buck does as Eddie says. He opens his mouth to say something (presumably to make some sort of protest) but there's a knock on the door and Carla lets herself in.
"Carla, thank you so much," Eddie says as she walks in. "Chris just got changed into his pjs, he'll be glad to see you."
"Hi to you, too," Carla says. She looks over at Buck. "Sorry you're not feeling well, Buck."
"I'm fine," Buck says, and Carla frowns at him.
"You don't look fine, and I trust Eddie. You should, too. Eddie, take care of him."
"You got it, Carla." Eddie waits until Buck has his slippers on, then helps him to his feet, hanging on tight when Buck sways slightly. "You okay?"
"Just stood up too fast," Buck says, pressing the heel of one hand to his forehead.
"I'll text you and keep you updated," Eddie calls.
"I'm here as long as you need me," Carla responds, and Eddie thinks, not for the first time, how grateful he is that Buck introduced her into his and Chris's lives.
He doesn't say anything, but it's obvious as Eddie guides him to the car that Buck is in a bad mood. Eddie knows it's nothing personal; Buck had had a hard time the last few days at the hospital, and he must hate the idea of having to spend even another night there. But the last time Buck had ignored the warning signs, Eddie had watched him nearly die of a pulmonary embolism. He's not keen to repeat the experience.
"There we go, easy does it," Eddie says as he lowers Buck into the passenger seat. Buck grimaces, hissing in pain as he bends to fit into the car, and Eddie winces in sympathy. "You okay?"
"Just sore," Buck says shortly.
He's quiet on the way to the ER, but it's obvious by the way he guards his middle with his left arm, and the way he draws in a sharp breath any time they hit even the slightest bump, that Buck's in pain. Eddie tries not to let it freak him out, but it's hard not to think the worst-that Buck has some sort of infection that will need surgery. An operation like that could set Buck's recovery back weeks, if not months. Eddie doesn't know if Buck can take that. He doesn't know if he can take that. He loves the 118, but it's not the same without Buck around.
That, and he hates seeing Buck miserable.
"How you holding up?"
"Alright," Buck says, but his voice is thin and strained and Eddie doesn't believe him.
Please, Eddie thinks, driving a little faster. Please, God, or whoever is up there. Please let Buck be okay.
xxx