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The whole house is dark when Eddie stirs, a chorus of snores and shuffling bodies of the family he chose masking whatever it was that woke him in the first place. Like a magnet to a pole, he finds himself in the doorway of Buck’s bedroom, peering in to see Maddie slumped over in her chair, chin resting in one propped up hand like she needs to help to hold it up. Her eyes stay trained on Buck, shivering under his thick comforter, even as her head starts to drop in unintended sleep.
“Mads.”
Maddie shakes herself further into consciousness. “Hey.” She whispers back groggily as he makes his way over to her. “Started to doze off.”
Together, they watch Buck shift, face screwed up in pain like it always seems to be these days. He’s asleep, however lightly, thanks to the generous dose of Trazadone he finally accepted after a full twenty-four hours of insomnia. Eddie’s heart hurts. If the look on Maddie’s face is any indication, hers is in agony.
Eddie’s hand finds her shoulder, and Maddie reaches up to squeeze him back. “Why don’t you catch a few hours of horizontal sleep.” He suggests. “I got him.”
Maddie looks from the bed back to Eddie, guilt and exhaustion warring on her face. It reminds him keenly, painfully, of the look on Shannon’s face the first time he had leave after Christopher was born. A bone-deep fatigue and so much love for her kid that it still felt nearly impossible to give up keeping watching in favor of a few hours of sleep.
“Are you sure? You were with him last night, too.”
“No worries. Go get some rest.”
Eddie was here last night, and the night before, but it’s not like it’s a burden. He isn’t getting much sleep outside of Buck’s bedroom anyway. He might as well make himself useful.
Maddie takes the offer, squeezing Eddie’s fingers one more time before getting up. “Call if you need anything.”
Eddie won’t need anything. A week ago, he would have said that keeping an eye on Buck was the one thing he was always good for. Now that he’s failed so spectacularly, there’s nowhere he needs to be more than right here. Not when Chris is under the same roof, tucked safely into the guest bedroom like he often is on any given Thursday night.
Tonight, like every other night this week, Eddie doesn’t stay in the chair. He can only stand watching Buck suffer for so long before he has to do something. Even if he knows it’s not much.
The second his weight dips the edge of the bed, Buck starts to come to, the softest, “Eddie,” passing his lips.
“M’here, bud.”
With effort, Buck peels his eyes open. They’re fever-bright, wet and miserable. Eddie can scarcely bear it. “Please.”
He didn’t even need to say it. Not really. Eddie’s already peeling the covers back, slipping between them and scooping Buck close. Every move hurts, Eddie knows, but Buck still does it, collapsing into Eddie once they’re both settled in the middle of the bed.
His whole body is wracked with chills, yesterday’s too-warm sweat gone like it was never even there. Eddie might be holding on a little too tightly, but Buck doesn’t seem to mind, burrowing further into Eddie’s chest.
“Sucks so fucking bad, man.”
“I know.” Eddie soothes, chin against Buck’s hooded curls, one hand smoothing gently over his back. “It’s gonna pass, I promise.”
With a shaky breath, Buck nods, snaking an arm around Eddie’s middle so he can hold on, too. It’s grounding, like touch between the two of them always has been. It’s been a conduit of its own when Eddie couldn’t find the words. When Buck couldn’t keep them in.
Buck falls asleep for an hour or so, Eddie never more than dozing. He’s a good soldier, he knows how to keep watch. If he strains, he can hear Chris’s snores from across the hall. Paired with Buck’s fitful ones, it soothes his frayed nerves.
Eddie’s not stupid. He knows there’s more to him and Buck than just work – just friends, just anything– but stakes have always felt so high, the loss of what they do have, unbearable. He trusts Buck more than anyone. Finds a peace and solace with Buck as a part of his and Chris’s little family that he’s never managed to capture with anyone else. Not even Shannon.
But Eddie’s hands break things. And Buck’s heart is fragile. They have a kid to think about.
Still, when Buck makes a hurt noise, his teeth grinding, Eddie has to shush him, thumb gentle on his jaw, lips pressed to the top of his head. “I got you. Shh. S’okay.”
More than anything, he just wants to take the pain away. He can’t actually do anything but lay kisses wherever he can reach and hold Buck tight while he cries, his own eyes welling with it, too. There’s so much injustice to this, so many layers of suffering.
Every bit of Buck is stretched tight. When he can’t stop the grinding of his teeth or the too-tight clench of his jaw, he grits out Eddie’s name again. It’s pathetic and desperate and Eddie hates himself for how good it feels when he presses two fingers into Buck’s begging mouth.
He could probably find something else. Anything to occupy Buck’s mouth would probably do, really. But that possessive thing that lives inside Eddie’s chest won’t let him even try to replace himself.
It’s all been too much. Nashville, leaving Buck at the bar with someone else. Almost losing him in the blowing sand of New Mexico. That moment when he thought he’d have to pull the trigger and there was no doubt in his mind that he would.
Underneath it all, Eddie’s a selfish bastard. He would have shot that couple in a heartbeat if it meant he wouldn’t lose Buck. He’s here now because he can’t fucking stand the thought of being anywhere else. He knows the feel of the inside of Buck’s mouth so intimately because he’s too desperate for it to say no.
Buck settles gratefully around the intrusion, teeth making divots above Eddie’s knuckles. A little moan escapes, and it’s all Eddie can do to keep his blood from rushing south. This isn’t— he shouldn’t—
Finally, the chatter of Buck’s teeth stops, his tongue laving over the pads of Eddie’s fingers. When his hips start to rock against the outside of Eddie’s thigh, Eddie doesn’t move an inch. “I got you.” He repeats, quiet like a prayer against Buck’s too-warm forehead. “I got you, I got you. It’s okay.”
Buck’s fever breaks when the dawn does.
They’re tangled together, limbs inextricable without jostling the other. They’re melded, one being in the covers. It’s the closest to settled Eddie’s felt in weeks.
“It wouldn’t be this bad.” Buck says as the first rays of light start to filter through the window. “If I’d told you when you asked.”
His body is taut with pain again, any relief the last dose of tylenol had brought long gone.
“I’m sorry.” Eddie says, for what has to be the hundredth time in the past week. He should have pushed. He should have known.
“Me too.” Buck answers, his own hundredth breath of apology.
“Wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t yours either.”
Eddie doesn’t think there’s any absolution that would feel as real and holy as this one. No hail Mary, full of grace. No knees on the velvet bench. Just a whispered truth, and a response in kind.
Eddie needs to say it. Buck deserves to know.
“Buck, I—“
A loud snore cuts him off. Buck’s mouth is slack and open against Eddie’s chest. Before long, there’s going to be a puddle of drool there, leaking into the fabric of his shirt.
Eddie can’t help the smile that splits his face.