Work Text:
“Ready to blow this joint?”
Buck glances up from the pale blue grippy socks a nurse gave him, his toes lightly brushing against the cold, off-white linoleum flooring. He frowns through blurred vision and rubs his knuckles against his eyes until the doorway swims into focus. His frown deepens.
“Don’t do that, you’ll only make it worse,” Eddie says.
He stands in the doorway to Buck’s room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest and one of his eyebrows raised. A small smile tugs at his lips. Eddie’s still in his uniform, the sleeves of his shirt tight against his biceps. Buck’s work bag hangs over his shoulder, resting against Eddie’s hip.
“I thought Maddie was picking me up,” Buck says. His throat is like sandpaper, each word scratchy and painful to speak. He swipes his tongue across his dry, cracked lips.
“She got called in.” Eddie steps into the room, his left hand dropping to his side, and the fingers of his right curling around the bag strap. “I said I’d get you instead. Bobby let me skip out early and said he’d stop by with some pre-cooked meals to make things easier.” He drops Buck’s work bag onto the bed and unzips it. “I grabbed some sweats and a hoodie from your locker, figured you’d rather wear them than a hospital gown. Your sneakers are in here, too.”
“Thanks.”
Buck eyes the clothes poking out of the top of this bag, grateful that Eddie had the forethought to bring them. The hospital gown, despite being paper-thin, is like barbed wire against his skin, and his uniform — the thing he arrived in — is a complete write-off. Chimney had town the buttons from his shirt when he did his initial examination of Buck’s chest and shoulder. Although his pants were technically fine — despite the smell of smoke clinging to the fibres — sweatpants sounded like a dream.
“Can you manage to get dressed on your own?” Eddie stares at the bandage poking out from the collar of Buck’s gown and the deep purple bruising already showing against his pale skin.
He nods, the action making the room spin. “Should be able to.”
“Okay. I’ll grab your discharge paperwork and prescription. Be back in a minute.” He gives Buck a pointed look. “Don’t injure yourself whilst I’m gone.”
Eddie squeezes Buck’s unbruised shoulder, his thumb brushing the skin of his collarbone before he slips out of the room.
The LAFD hoodie that’s two sizes too big, and his favorite pair of grey sweatpants call Buck’s name from the back. He reaches over, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the hoodie. A small smile escapes his lips.
Buck’s bruised shoulder makes it difficult to move, but somehow he manages to slip himself into the sweatpants and replace the gown with the hoodie. The tension buried in his body melts away the second the hoodie settles against his chest. Relief floods through him now that the scratchy material isn’t touching him.
Grabbing the sneakers from his bag, he drops them on the floor with a thud. He doesn’t bother to change his socks, knowing the movement would only aggravate his injuries. Instead, he slips the pale blue grippy socks into his sneakers and lets the laces flop around his feet.
He tugs the sleeves of his hoodie down and over his fingertips, curling his fingers into the fabric and letting his hands rest against his lap. Buck buries his face in the fabric. His shoulders slump forward, and he inhales the relaxing smell of the lavender detergent he’s been using since the lightning strike.
It’s one of the few things that helps to settle his ever-spinning mind.
Buck closes his eyes, his face still buried in the hoodie, and tries to block out the harsh hospital lights flickering and buzzing overhead. His fingers stay tangled in the sleeves, and he’s grateful for the meds that take the edge off the pain in his shoulder and ribs. There’s still a dull ache settling in his muscles from the effort it took to change his clothes, but it could be worse.
By all accounts, he got off lightly — cracked ribs, a deep tissue bruise to his shoulder, a mild concussion, smoke inhalation, and eye irritation. Had it not been for his turnout coat, his back would have been charred, and his helmet protected him from a more serious concussion or TBI. Buck knows his time off to recover is going to suck, but it’s a small price to pay for seeing the smile on the little girl’s face when she saw her stuffed bear.
“Your chariot awaits, good sir.”
Opening his eyes, his vision still blurry and slightly out of focus, Buck grimaces. Eddie enters the room with his fingers gripping the handles of a hospital-issued wheelchair, a wide smile on his face and Buck’s prescription on the seat.
“My legs were the only thing that didn’t get hurt,” Buck croaks. He clears his throat, but he knows it won’t have any effect.
“Hospital policy, which you know since you argue about it every time. You should be used to it by now.”
“I can be used to it, and still hate it.”
“But we’re the ones who have to put up with your complaining.”
“Not a complaint, an observation.” Buck coughs, pain prickling across his chest and throat.
“Stop arguing before you end up being forced to spend the night.” Eddie pushes the wheelchair so it’s facing Buck. He looks down at the untied shoelaces and laughs. “Need a hand?”
“No, I’ll just be taking them off again.”
“Fair. Get in the chair.”
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
Heat rises in Buck’s cheeks, but he doesn’t say anything. He twists his fingers into his sleeves and drops his gaze to his feet, his toes scuffing against the linoleum.
Since Eddie and Chris returned from Texas, Buck’s been trying to keep his feelings in check. It was harder when they all lived under the same roof, but since Buck moved out a few weeks before, he’s been able to tame it. He pushes down the butterflies in his stomach when their hands brush against each other, and chokes down the confessions that sit on the tip of his tongue. It’s easier to repress it than to acknowledge it.
“Let’s get you in the chair and get you home.” Eddie’s voice cuts through Buck’s reverie, his voice soft.
Buck lifts his head from his feet and nods slowly. He pushes himself up, the room swaying dangerously the second he’s upright. Eddie’s by his side in an instant. His warm hand grabs Buck’s elbow, steadying him. With Eddie’s help, Buck sits himself in the wheelchair, swallowing down the bile in his throat. His stomach churns even though it’s been a while since he ate anything.
Eddie grabs the bag from the bed and hikes it onto his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Lead the way.”
Although he complained about the wheelchair, Buck is glad of it. The ache in his chest and shoulder ripples through his body, and he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to walk through the doors. His vision is still blurry — and would be for a few days — so Buck settles into the chair and lets Eddie push him into the parking lot.
“This is the only time I’m glad you got a Prius,” Buck says after he manages to get himself into the car with minimal effort.
“I should have recorded that for future blackmail purposes.” Eddie throws Buck’s work bag onto the backseat and settles behind the wheel. “All buckled in?”
Buck nods, exhaustion settling into his bones. He rolls his shoulders against the seat until he can lean comfortably without putting too much pressure on his bruises. Eddie gives his knee a small, reassuring squeeze, and Buck feels the kaleidoscope of butterflies take off in his stomach. He swallows them down, his fingers well and truly tangled in the hoodie.
“Let’s get you to an actual bed.”
“Please.”
Eddie chuckles, the sound light and comforting. He pats Buck’s leg and starts the car, pulling away from the hospital. Buck settles into the seat and watches the world go by through the window. The blur of buildings and cars makes his head spin that little bit more, but Eddie doesn’t drive quite as fast as he usually does.
The bruises across Buck’s body throb, his throat dry. Every bump in the road sends a ripple of pain through him that the pain meds haven’t managed to take away. He winces. Eddie glances at him out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets the silence sit over them. Buck closes his eyes to try to chase away the residual headache building behind his eyes.
He opens them a little while later when the car comes to a stop, the headache still humming in the background. Buck looks through the window and frowns.
“This isn’t my place,” he says, his voice like gravel.
“It’s not.” Eddie kills the engine, gripping the keys tightly. “The doctor said you needed someone to keep an eye on you.”
“Eddie—”
“—Don’t argue with me, Buckley. I’m not sending you back to your place with a concussion, blurry vision, and smoke inhalation. You’re staying here where Chris, Carla, and I can make sure you don’t hurt yourself any further.” There’s a bite to Eddie’s words, an underlying harshness that has Buck’s heart dropping to his stomach.
Buck drops his gaze to his lap, staring at his hoodie sleeves. He’s been waiting for the inevitable conversation about what he did on the scene a few hours before, but he hoped he’d have another day or two. Bobby telling him off was one thing, but when Eddie did it, it hurt more.
Eddie sighs, twisting himself to look at Buck. “I’m not mad.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe a little.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “But you terrified me earlier on, Buck. One minute you were behind me, and then the next you were disappearing into the flames for a stuffed toy of all things.” Eddie rakes a hand through his hair, a small strand falling onto his forehead. “When that beam came down and caught you, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I … I can’t lose you, Buck, especially not for a stuffed toy.”
“I’m sorry,” Buck says, his voice soft. “It’s just that she’d had it since she was a baby. She was losing everything, Eddie, I wanted her to have at least that one thing.” Each word scrapes his throat raw, tears welling up in his eyes. Buck isn’t sure if it’s from pain or from seeing the hurt in Eddie’s eyes.
“I know.” Eddie reaches over and takes Buck’s hand in his, his thumb brushing over the slightly bruised skin of his knuckles. “You’ve got a big heart, Evan Buckley, and I’d never be mad at you for that. You scared me, so I’m keeping you here where I can keep an eye on you. Okay?”
Buck nods, not trusting his voice.
“Good.” Eddie squeezes his hand. “I’ll help you inside, and you can take some meds and go to bed.”
Releasing Buck’s hand, Eddie climbs out of the car. He walks around to the passenger side and opens the door. Buck swings his legs over, his left leg aching beneath his sweat pants, and stands up. He staggers a little beneath the swimming ground, but once again, Eddie is there to steady him.
Just like always.
Eddie grips Buck’s left elbow, his other hand snaking around his waist to help keep him upright. His fingers ghost over the bare skin of Buck’s stomach where his shirt has partially ridden up. The touch is light, a barely-there, feather-like feeling against his skin, as if Eddie’s scared he’ll hurt him. Buck leans into him, letting Eddie take his weight and help him into the house.
He staggers over his untied shoelaces and hears Eddie snort over his shoulder.
“We should get some food into you, toast or something, just so you can take your meds.”
“I need to shower,” Buck says thickly. “I smell like smoke.”
“You need your meds and some sleep before you keel over. You’re running on fumes, Buck.”
“Eddie,” he whines, knowing he sounds like a child.
“Okay, fine.” Eddie sighs, a smile tugging on his lips. “We can borrow Chris’s shower chair to make things easier, but then you eat and go to bed. Okay?”
Buck nods, the ground lurching beneath him. “I just want to get the smell of smoke off me.”
“Come on then.”
Eddie’s grip on Buck’s body remains tight as he steers him through the house and into the bathroom. He folds down the lid of the toilet and helps him to sit on the cold porcelain, grabbing the shower chair and setting it up within the small cubicle.
“Will you be alright putting those on afterwards? I can have Bobby swing by yours to grab some clothes tomorrow morning, but I’m behind on the laundry and the clothes you do have here need to be washed.”
“These are fine,” Buck says.
“Do you need a hand showering with your shoulder?”
Buck frowns, swiping his tongue across his lips. Although he managed to get changed with his messed-up shoulder, showering is something else entirely. He can’t lift his hands high enough to wash his hair, and he knows washing his body will be hard even with the help of the shower chair.
And yet he hesitates.
Sure, he and Eddie have showered together before, but that was before Buck realised how he feels about his best friend. It’s different now than it was a few months before, and the idea of showering alongside Eddie has the butterflies in his stomach erupting. The last thing he wants to do is make things awkward between them.
“Buck?” Eddie asks, his voice soft.
He blinks, the room coming into focus. He glances up at Eddie, who watches him with a small furrow in his eyebrows and concern in his eyes. Slowly, Buck nods. “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay. I’m going to grab some clothes from my room. Be right back.”
Eddie slips out of the bathroom, and Buck relaxes against the toilet seat, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. Exhaustion still clings to his body, and he’s desperate to finally get some sleep with the help of his pain meds, but the shower is more important. There’s nothing worse than the clinging scent of smoke after a call, and Buck’s first port of call is usually the showers. Sleep can wait for a few more minutes.
When Eddie comes back, the butterflies are still swirling through him, but he swallows them down as best he can. He dumps a pile of clothes into the sink alongside a couple of towels. Buck swallows the butterflies and takes a small, shaky breath.
It’s just a shower.
A totally normal, platonic shower.
Eddie turns the water on, and the sound of drumming water against porcelain fills the bathroom. Steam quickly follows, and the room soon heats up.
“Let’s do this.”
Buck frowns, watching Eddie wring his hands together in front of him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Eddie was as nervous as he was. His throat works when he swallows deeply, clapping his hands together and letting the sound echo out of the room.
With Eddie’s help, Buck pulls off the hoodie and sweatpants, which are placed in the sink with the towels. Eddie makes quick work of his own clothes, and Buck tries not to stare at Eddie’s chest, but he’s a simple man, and Eddie is attractive. The bandages across Buck’s chest are next to go, exposing the splattering of dark purple, almost black, bruises that cover his shoulder and chest.
He leaves his boxers to last, shimmying them down his legs and making sure not to make eye contact — or even look at Eddie — when he takes them off. Heat rises in Buck’s cheeks, and he hopes Eddie will put it down to the steam and rising temperature rather than anything else.
“The quicker we get you showered, the sooner you can go to bed.”
Eddie keeps his boxers on, his arm once again snaking around Buck’s waist. Buck shudders at the touch. If Eddie notices, he doesn’t say anything. He keeps a tight grip on Buck’s waist and helps him into the small cubicle and onto the shower chair sitting underneath the warm spray of water.
A small sigh escapes Buck’s lips the second the water touches his skin. It helps to soothe the aching in his muscles, including his leg, which has decided to attend a party it wasn’t invited to. He relaxes into the stream of water, feeling it trickle down his skin and drip onto the floor.
“Tilt your head back,” Eddie says, his voice barely audible over the running water.
Buck does as he was told, tilting his head back and closing his eyes to the spray of water dripping onto his face. Eddie’s hands go to Buck’s hair, lightly scratching and massaging his scalp. The familiar smell of his shampoo fills the shower.
He relaxes into Eddie’s touch, a small hum escaping his lips as Eddie works the shampoo into his curls with slow, methodical movement. Given the chance, Buck would fall asleep in the shower just from the sensation of Eddie’s fingertips against his head. The touch is light, delicate, intimate in a way he hadn’t expected. The butterflies continue to flutter in his stomach.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Uh-huh,” Buck says, all other words failing him.
“Good.” Eddie laughs, moving to wash the shampoo out of Buck’s curls. “You just relax, I’ve got you.”
The words wash over Buck and send a burst of warmth through his entire body. He’s never felt so cared for in his entire life – loved, almost. No one — aside from Maddie — has ever washed his hair like this, or taken so much care with it. He learnt early on how to look after himself whenever he got hurt, and this sort of care is new, but not unwelcome.
He leans into it, letting Eddie rinse the shampoo from his hair. Eddie takes extra care with the conditioner, massaging it in the same way he did the shampoo. Once he’s done, Eddie moves on to the bodywash. Buck tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks when the strawberry-scented bodywash is scrubbed over his body.
Eddie’s light touch continues over the bruises on Buck’s shoulder, the pressure barely noticeable along with the pain.
“And, we’re done,” Eddie says. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper as he turns off the water. “I’m going to grab you a towel.”
Buck nods, keeping his eyes shut. His limbs feel like jello, all the tension from his body disappearing down the drain with the water. Sleep tugs at his body, and he’s desperate to give into it, more than happy to sleep in the shower chair. Eddie’s hands rake through Buck’s hair, and he opens his eyes, looking up at the other man who stares at him with something close to adoration in his eyes.
A towel is draped over Buck’s shoulders, and Eddie’s hands return to his waist and elbow. Buck lets Eddie manoeuvre him out of the shower and back to the still-closed toilet seat, the porcelain cold against his body. He shivers and hugs the towel tightly to his body.
“Time to dry off.”
Eddie treats him like a child, helping to dry the water from his body with gentle movements. The towel is rough against his damp skin, but Eddie makes quick work of drying him. The exhaustion chases away any embarrassment Buck has about being treated like this, especially by Eddie. Instead, he leans into it, his head resting lightly against his chest.
Once he’s dry, Eddie helps him redress in the hoodie and sweatpants before tugging his own clothes on, his hair damp and curling over his forehead. Eddie tugs Buck to his feet, moving him from the bathroom and towards Eddie’s bedroom, where he is deposited onto the soft mattress.
“I can’t take your bed,” Buck mutters, frowning at Eddie.
“You’re not taking it, we’re sharing it. We’ve shared before, and it’ll be better for your bruises than the couch.” Eddie pulls the bed covers back and settles Buck against the pillows. “I’m going to make you some toast. You can eat, take your meds, and sleep. Okay?”
Buck nods sleepily, struggling to keep his eyes open.
Eddie laughs softly. His hand brushes the curls from Buck’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He moves his hand from Buck’s forehead, his footsteps echoing over the wood floor as he slips from the room. Buck leans back against the pillows. The warmth and softness encase his entire body, tendrils of sleep creeping forward and wrapping themselves around him. His body hums from Eddie’s touch, each nerve singing out for more.
Longing trickles through his veins, the need to feel Eddie’s fingers against his skin creeping in the longer Eddie is gone. It’s pathetic, he knows it, but Buck has never felt like this before. No one has ever made him feel so loved, so taken care of. There’s a different type of warmth in his body, the beginnings of a fire burning in his chest.
This is intimacy he’s never experienced before.
“Wakey, wakey.” Eddie’s voice washes over Buck’s exhausted body. His hand cups Buck’s chin, and his thumb brushes over his cheek. “You need to eat.”
Buck drags his eyes open, looking at Eddie through his blurred, unfocused vision. Eddie sits on the edge of the bed with a plate holding a singular piece of toast. There’s a glass of water and his prescription on the nightstand beside the bed. Eddie places the plate onto Buck’s lap, his thumb still brushing over his cheek. A fond look dances in his eyes, and a small smile tugs on his lips.
“Eat, meds, sleep. In that order.” Eddie removes his hand from Buck’s face, and Buck tries not to whine at the loss of his touch.
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah, I do,” Buck mutters.
Eddie nudges the plate towards Buck with that soft smile still on his face. “Eat.”
Despite his need to sleep, Buck does what’s asked of him. He eats the toast, which Eddie has slathered in butter and jelly. Eddie sits on the edge of the bed the entire time, watching him eat the toast as if it were the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.
When he’s finished, Eddie takes the plate and places it on the nightstand, handing Buck the medication and the glass of water. Buck makes light work of swallowing the pills. He settles himself against the pillows, sleep tugging at his eyes.
“I’ll let you sleep.”
Eddie stands up, but Buck moves quickly. He wraps his hand around Eddie’s wrist, his grip strong despite how exhausted he feels.
“Stay,” he says, voice thick with sleep. “Please?”
“Are you sure?”
Buck nods. “Positive.”
“Okay.”
Eddie walks around the bed and pulls back the covers. He slips beneath them, his body pressing against Buck’s in a way that fills him with warmth and comfort. One of Eddie’s arms curls around Buck’s shoulder and tugs him towards him, Eddie’s head resting on his chest.
“Is this okay?” Eddie whispers, his fingers ghosting over Buck’s arm.
“More than.”
“Good.” He leans down and places a light kiss on Buck’s forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Buck does.
He sleeps with a newfound warmth in his chest and love flowing through his veins.