Archive of Our Own

The average human can survive just over five hours buried alive. It’s one of those things Buck just knows, and he can’t recall where from. Maybe he was taught it at the Fire academy, maybe it was in a documentary, the kind he puts on in the background while he cooks. Whatever it was, now it’s just one of those things he can spout out when they’re on a vaguely related call, or he and Eddie are watching a movie, probably horror. 

He never thought it was going to be something he’d have to reckon with himself. 

Buck broke up with Tommy on a Tuesday. Or, well, Tommy broke up with him. But he wasn’t particularly upset by it ending; it’s what Tommy had said as he was going it that really rattled Buck. 

“You’re barely around, and when you are, your mind is somewhere else!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. You and Eddie…”

And those three words, ‘you and Eddie’, sent Buck spiralling. And his spiral ends in a bar in East LA, three beers down. He taps his foot against the sticky floor, swipes a finger through the condensation on the table, and thinks about the pivotal moments in his life that led up to this moment. 

He can understand Tommy, somewhat. He’d be annoyed too if his boyfriend kept cancelling plans to hang out with his friend. He tried to explain it to Tommy, that it wasn’t like that, that he and Eddie weren’t just friends. They were best friends.That sort of reasoning clearly doesn't fly for anyone but teenage girls. The term ‘best Friend’ tends not to hold as much weight to grown men. But it does to Buck. Best friends means being there for each other, no matter what. Having each other’s backs, showing up. And it was especially important for Buck to be there for Eddie now that he’s dealing with the loss of Christopher. But Tommy didn’t understand that; thought it was juvenile. And, well, Buck doesn’t want to be with someone who can’t understand that friendships are just as important as relationships. 

And now the music in the bar is beginning to drill uncomfortably in his head, and the beer tastes like ash, and Tommy’s words repeat over and over in his head like a broken record. 

“I think you need to have a long think about what's more important to you: finding someone to spend the rest of your life with, or Eddie.”

Because Buck had never considered that to have one he’ll have to give up the other. There’s never been a moment where Buck thinks about his future, that Eddie doesn’t play a part. He’s always there, smiling in the background, an arm slung casually over his shoulder. Or in Eddie’s kitchen chatting over a drink, waiting for Chris to put his pyjamas on so he and Eddie can say goodnight. 

And maybe that’s why Tommy ended it… because, no matter what, Eddie came first, and, whether Buck had known it or not, his partners always ended up competing with Eddie. Fighting a losing battle, because they knew, Tommy knew, Buck knows, that Eddie will always come first. 

And Buck can’t think about it right now. About the implication of having someone buried so deep in his core, nestled so comfortable between his ribs, that nothing and no-one will be able to wedge themselves in his place. 

Buck doesn’t see the man drop himself into the barstool next to Buck, but he feels him press the side of his arm against Buck’s. Buck looks up and the man shoots him a sly smile. 

He’s attractive: cropped brown hair, a strong jaw and an endearingly crooked nose. He grins at the bartender, a flash of white and pink. The heat of the bar dusts a blush over his nose, a lighter pink than Eddie’s. Buck winces against the unwarranted thoughts of Eddie pushed to the forefront of his meddling brain. He downs the rest of his beer, effectively re-fogging his mind into a blissful calm. He’s not here to think about Eddie. Or Tommy. Or anyone for that matter. 

“Come here often?” The man says, and that’s the last thing Buck remembers. 

Buck wakes up in complete darkness. He doesn’t have black-out curtains, and he hates wearing sleep masks because they make him break out. He can’t recall how he got here, in a place that isn’t his bed. He tries to sit up, but pain flares up his spine, and his hands don't move when he tells them to. 

Tied up. His hands are tied in front of them. Buck tries to pull them apart gently, but is met with a thick band of tension. Duct tape, maybe. He tries his legs, but finds he can’t move them either. 

He presses his head back to the hard floor beneath him. His eyes try to adjust but he can’t find a single sliver of light in the absolute pitch black. 

Sucking in a slow, deep breath, he kicks up, using all the strength left in his lower body. His bound feet connect with a roof barely more than a foot above him. Sharp, bitter nausea coats the back of his throat. Cold seeps through his body like the sea slowly rolling up to shore. 

He’s in a coffin. And, judging by the sheer lack of light, he’s likely buried. 

The average person can last just over five hours buried alive before they suffocate. Buck doesn’t know how long he was unconscious before he woke. He could have hours, he could have minutes. 

His head rushes dizzily, from panic or lack of oxygen, he isn’t sure. 

He’s dealt with a living burial case before: that crazy case of jilted lovers and revenge. They found the man because he screamed. Because he–because he called 911. 

Twisting his arms to the side, he pushes himself onto his side. Something sharp splitters into his side and he hisses. He can feel it, his phone, sitting heavy in his back pocket. Maybe whoever did this forgot to take it, maybe he thought it wouldn’t matter. 

Buck shuffles himself inch by inch to the side until his shoulder connects with the lid and he can’t turn any further. With a grunt he manoeuvres his stuck arms to the left, until he can just barely brush a finger over the top of his phone. But he can’t go any further. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, fuck fuck !” He slams his knee against the side of his coffin, again, again, not making so much as a splinter in the wood. 

He tries to roll back over onto his back, feeling that same sharp poke in his side as he goes. 

He sucks in a sharp breath, his head rushing with an idea. Bringing his arms over to the other side, he pushes them under himself, feeling around blindly until he feels the tape snag against whatever it is that keeps stabbing him. He just hopes it's strong enough. That he is. 

Buck doesn’t know how long it takes him; it could have been minutes or hours, scraping the tape up and down against the splinter. He tries not to think about anything other than the way his wrists rub with each movement, the sting of friction against his raw skin. 

Snap of the tape giving way sounds like a gunshot in his ears. 

Buck chokes on a sob as he separates his arms. He rubs his wrists gently, can feel how sore they are. His fingers come away tacky with what must be blood. With full mobility of his arms, he yanks his phone out of pocket and turns it on. The flash of his home screen blinds him momentarily. Him, Chris, and Eddie stare back at him from his screen, all smiling goofily. The photo had been taken years ago, when Chris had just turned nine. Buck’s feelings stick like taffy in his chest. He’s on 12 percent, with zero bars. He won’t know if anyone has reached out to him until he gets out. If he ever does. But he can still call 911. 

He isn’t sure if he wants Maddie to be the one to answer, if only to hear her voice, or to pray that she doesn’t have to find out. 

“911 what is your emergency?” It’s a male voice he recognises instantly.

“Hey Josh, I-I’ve been buried alive.”

Buck hasn’t been responding to any of Eddie’s messages and he can’t remember what he’s done wrong. Because he must have done something, for Buck to be airing him like this. 

The last thing Eddie recalls is Buck telling him that he’s going to Tommy’s, and that was hours ago. They have an unspoken rule that Buck always comes to Eddie’s after he sees Tommy. Because Eddie can’t sleep in the house alone. The emptiness feels as suffocating as if he were trapped in an air-tight safe. But with Buck sleeping on the couch, he finds he’s able to let himself relax. His jaw unclenches, his shoulders sink, and while his dreams are plagued with that single day playing on repeat, at least he can sleep.

But now it's just past 9pm, and Buck’s been gone for hours. The last text he had sent Eddie was at 5:17 pm, saying I’ll lyk when I’m omw! Which Eddie responded to with a thumbs up. And that was it. 

Maybe Buck has decided he wants to spend the night with Tommy, but he would have told him if that was the case. Maybe he’s having such a good time with Tommy that he’s forgotten all about Eddie, which… Eddie doesn’t think that’s true. 

His finger hovers over the call button. He doesn’t want to be needy; he knows Buck wouldn’t care if Eddie phones, but he hates feeling like this. Like he’s desperate. 

But, well, he is. 

He thumbs the call button. It doesn't ring. 

Three beeps. Line busy . The call ends. Eddie frowns, tries again. Three beeps. Line busy.  

Eddie knows Buck. Eddie knows Buck better than he thinks he knows himself. If Buck saw that Eddie was trying to get ahold of him, he would answer. No matter who he was already on the line with. This is weird. 

Subconsciously, his fingers take him to Bobby’s number. They have a shift tomorrow morning. But before he can call Bobby, Maddie’s caller ID pings up. Eddie’s stomach drops to the soles of his shoes. 

“Hey, Maddie, what’s wrong?” 

She sounds frantic, half gasping, half sobbing. It feels like someone’s dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. 

“Maddie, where’s Buck?” 

There have been a few moments in his life–more than he’d prefer–where everything around him moves so quickly, like an endlessly spinning carousel, while his mind and body become sluggish: When Shannon told him she was pregnant, When his helicopter went down in Afghanistan, when Shannon died. When he found Buck after the tsunami without Christopher. Pivotal moments in his life where he thought his life might be over. 

And now, another one. Maddie on speakerphone, hysterical. Josh in the background, talking softly to Buck. Buck, who is buried, god knows where, god knows how deep. Eddie, trying to keep his breathing even, trying to keep his eyes on the road as he speeds, at least ten over the speed limit. 

When he gets to the call centre, the rest of the 118 are already there. There’s an awful silence in the air, and as Eddie steps onto the floor, he can feel everyone’s desperation pressing against the walls. 

Maddie rushes over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. He and Maddie aren’t exceptionally close, but he takes the hug, uses it to fuel himself. When she pulls away her eyes are red-rimmed and shining with tears. 

“Is he still…” Eddie tries to ask, but the words crack and crumble in his mouth. Maddie nods hard. 

“Yes, yes, Josh is still on the line with him. He’s trying to determine a location but… but he doesn’t know w-where he is.” 

It’s somewhat of a relief, a hollow one, that they know Buck is still alive, still talking. 

Maddie steps back to join Chimney, who wraps her up in his arms. Hen and Bobby are next to them, talking lowly. Bobby has his hand pressed over his walkie, and Eddie wonders if he’s talking to Athena. If she’s out there right now, sirens blazing, looking for Buck. 

Looking up, Bobby meets Eddie’s eye and beckons him over. Eddie’s feet drag leaden behind him. It’s almost like his mind has shut down and his body has begun moving automatically, taking control. 

“Based on what Buck’s told us, he can’t remember much,” Bobby says. Acid pools in Eddie’s stomach, bitter and roiling. He swallows hard against the tidal wave and tries to focus on Bobby, on the vital information he’s relaying to the team. He can’t help Buck if he’s not all there. 

“He told Josh he went to a bar, Frank ‘n Hanks, and got talking with a man. He doesn’t remember anything else.” 

“So, what? The dude drugged him, buried him somewhere?” Chimney says. Eddie can’t speak past the iron in his mouth. He forces his teeth out of his tongue, not aware he's bitten down so hard. Red tinges the edge of his vision. 

Buck went to a bar? Without Tommy, without letting anyone know? Eddie knows Buck like the back of his hand, but he can’t imagine what must have been going through Buck’s mind, the actions that led up to this. And this man… who is he? 

“Why-why would someone do that to Buck? He doesn’t have enemies ,” Hen splutters, as confused as everyone else looks. “I mean, sure, he pisses people off, but not enough to warrant this.” 

“Maybe it was just wrong place, wrong time,” Bobby says. 

“So what the hell are we doing standing around?” Eddie says, his mouth moving before his brain could catch up. The words came out so sharply it hit the walls like a bullet. Even Josh looks up from his hunched position at his desk. With his headset on, the only person in the room speaking to Buck right now . 

“Okay, I think we all need to take a breath. We can’t do anything until we have some idea of where Buck is. Athena’s circling the area around the bar. He’s likely only been missing a few hours so she’s going to question the people inside, see if they saw anything,” Bobby says, meeting each of their eyes resolutely. It must be so hard for him; he’s just as worried as the rest of them but he isn’t afforded the luxury of feeling any of it.  

“We’ll find him.” 

Time seems to work differently when you’re buried in complete darkness. Buck isn’t sure if the minutes are stretching thin or rushing past him. Josh’s voice, staticky and soft, is the only thing keeping him grounded. His phone sits balanced on his sternum, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. He’s too afraid to touch his phone, in case he does something and Josh’s voice disappears. He already knows he doesn’t have much charge left, and it could die any moment. 

“–and you're sure you can’t hear anything? No sirens, no people?” Josh asks for what has to be the fifth time at least. He knows Athena is out there somewhere, looking for him. He strains his hearing outwards, tries to focus on anything, something. But he can’t hear anything but the slight buzzing in his ears, and the almost indecipherable crackle of Josh’s breathing. 

“No,” he whispers. “I can’t hear anything.” He’s resorting to whispering now; Buck’s not sure if it’s helping prolong his oxygen, but he’d like to think so. 

“Okay, well, okay. That doesn’t mean she’s not close. You might just be…” 

Josh trails off, not wanting to say what they’re both thinking. He’s buried too damn far down.

There’s a moment of silence. Buck listens to the shuffling on the other side of the phone, the voices that sound so far away he might as well be hundreds of miles below the ocean. Then Josh is back. 

“Hey, a-are they all there?” Buck asks. 

“Yeah, yeah they’re all here. We’re all waiting to hear what Athena can drag out of some witnesses.”

And Buck understands why they aren’t all out looking for him; it wouldn’t do much good. But still, a part of him wishes they were. Maybe it would make him feel safer. 

“Is, um, is Eddie there?” Buck asks, and Josh is quieter for longer this time. A little chill sweeps over Buck. Has Eddie left? Was he never there to begin with? 

Buck has a lot of regrets, but his big one right now is that he didn’t just go to Eddie’s house. He made one stupid decision, listened to his thundering heart instead of his brain, and now he might die, buried, alone in the dark. 

“Yeah, Buck. He’s here.” 

“Could I… can I talk to him?” 

“Of course.” 

There's a bit of commotion, and Buck squeezes his eyes shut and tries to picture Eddie, sitting in Josh’s swivel chair, putting the headset on. He can picture Eddie’s face as clear as if he were right there; every groove, the lines etched into his forehead, next to his mouth. The divot right under his bottom lip, the freckle under his left eye. His eyes, wide and deep brown. Probably upset. His eyebrows are probably upturned in a frown. Buck would give pretty much anything to be able to swipe his thumb over the concerned crease in between his eyebrows, to smooth his worry out. He wants to be able to hold Eddie under his hand and never have to worry about letting go. Buck allows himself to accept that, in the dark solitude of his coffin.

“ Buck .” Eddie's voice cracks through the walls of Buck’s mind, shattering them wholly. Buck doesn’t stop the gasping sob he lets out, like a man breaking the surface of the ocean as it tries to pull him down. 

“H-hey, Eds.” 

He hears something that sounds like it could be a stifling cry of Eddie’s own. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how good it is to hear you.” Eddie’s voice is low, an almost whisper, like he doesn’t want to be overheard. 

“Yeah, feels pretty good to hear you too.” 

“You gotta… you have to preserve your oxygen, don’t talk too much.” A beat. “Which I know is going to be hard for you.” 

Buck huffs a laugh. It can’t be that dire, not if Eddie can still crack a joke at Buck’s expense. Or it might be even worse than Buck thought, and Eddie is just trying to keep Buck distracted. 

“We’re, um, we’re doing everything we can over here. Athena is out questioning the people in the bar, there are police trying to get a ping on your phone’s location. But it-it’s difficult because you–you’re…”

“Buried.” 

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath that Buck can feel against his skin.

“We’re gonna find you, Buck. I promise, I promise .” 

“Eddie, you shouldn't make promises you can’t keep. “

“Shut up, you don’t know–”

“I’m just being realistic. I don’t know how long I was unconscious. For all I know it was hours ago.” 

“No, no it wasn’t. It’s a quarter to twelve, you still have time,” Eddie says adamantly. 

“A quarter to… Okay, yeah. I left Tommy’s at… at six, and I drove to the bar and I was–yeah I was there for about an hour before this man showed up, and he smiled at me and then… nothing.” Buck grunts in frustration. He’s pissed at the dickhead who drugged him, he’s pissed that he let it happen. He wishes he knew more . He’s tired.

“Okay, okay, so there’s a gap, about two hours between you meeting this–this man, and you phoning 9-1-1,” Eddie says, like he’s trying to calculate it in his head. 

“It takes a significant amount of manpower to dig a grave, no matter how deep, and you’re a big guy, so your unconscious weight would be difficult to move. And you phoned the moment you woke up?” 

“Give or take ten, maybe twenty minutes. Had to get my hands untied.”

“ Jesus , Buck. When we find this guy…” 

Buck can’t stop the small smile that creeps along his face. It’s nice to be reassured that there are people out there who care. Buck’s phone beeps. 

“What was that?” Eddie asks. 

Opening his eyes, Buck lifts his head a little to look over at the screen. He thumps his head back down with a groan. He’s so tired. 

“Low battery,” he mumbles. “Five percent.” 

“It’s okay, Buck, we’re so close,” Eddie reassures him. “How are you feeling?”

“Hmmm, got a headache, a little tired. It’s so hard not to be tired when it’s just dark.” 

“Okay, don’t close your eyes Buck.” Eddie sounds a little frantic. “They’ve nearly got a ping on your phone, and then we’ll be right there, I promise. Athena’s already waiting.”

“Hey, Eddie…”

“Don’t talk, just keep breathing slowly.”

“No, I should tell you now, might as well. Don’t wanna die with any more regrets.” 

“Buck,” Eddie whispers. Even through the static and Bucks ringing ears, he can still hear the panic in Eddie’s voice. The worry. It pulls at the places in Buck’s heart that he can’t reach. 

“Me and Tommy ended things. It’s all good, no love lost there, not really. He actually opened my eyes to what’s been staring me in the face the past seven years.”

“Buck, what are you talking about?” Eddie sounds wary, like he’s afraid he knows what Buck’s going to say. 

“Bit awkward timing I know, sorry. Wish I’d known months ago. Years ago. Then this wouldn’t be happening.” Buck’s head lolls uncontrollably to  the side. He suddenly can’t find the strength to move it. He mumbles into the damp wood of the coffin and hopes Eddie can still understand him. 

“I love you. I think I love you… No. I know I do. S’funny how life works isn’t it? You find out you’re in love with your best friend and then you die. M’glad I can’t see your face right now. Maybe you shouldn’t even respond and I can just… pretend I’m talking to…myself…would suck if your…last words to me were a… rejection…”

The silence stretches on for so long Buck starts to think his phone has died. But then it crackles once more, and Buck’s using what he knows are his final few breaths to wait for his best friend to shoot him down.

“I love you too.” 

Buck must have already died. He’s dead and whatever higher beings live above have taken pity on him and manifested the one thing he wants to hear. The only thing. 

“And I-I hate you for making me say it now when I should be saying it to your face , knowing you’re safe .” 

“That’s nice,” Buck sighs. 

“No, dammit Buck, it is not nice! Listen to me! I love you, I love you so fucking much it hurts , so you-you’re not going anywhere. You’re not allowed to. I will-I will fucking drag you back kicking and screaming so help me god Buck, you are not fucking dying on me now. Not when I know I can have you.”

“Y-you want me?” Buck says, and he’s still not convinced this isn’t the afterlife, but Eddie’s voice sounds so desperate and frayed it’s tugging at the strings of his consciousness, trying to pull him back. He reaches out for the strings, thready and thin, but they slip past his fingers, just barely, and he feels himself tumble further into darkness. 

Eddie’s voice sinks deeper and deeper like he’s sinking in mud or blood or salt water or sand. Buck can barely work out what he’s saying. But just knowing–even distantly–that Eddie’s still there calms something within him. He feels settled; his heart isn’t pounding that hard anymore. Everything’s going to be okay. 

The last thing Buck hears is Eddie calling his name, and he’s okay with that. 

“—Buck! Buck! ” Eddie yells into the microphone. He can feel the eyes on everyone in the room bearing down on him. Someone touches him gently on the shoulder and he whirls round, rabid like an animal. Bobby takes a step back instantly, hands up in surrender.

“He-he’s not responding anymore! He isn’t-he’s not–” He isn’t breathing properly, he can feel it in the tightness of his chest, the closing of his throat. Not that that matters, because Buck might not be breathing at all. 

“Eddie-hey, hey, Eddie. Take a breath, you have to take a breath,” Bobby says, speaking to him slowly, like he’s some kind of wild animal. Maybe he looks it, eyes wide, hair harried from the headset. He tries to take in a breath slowly, but it comes in choppy and gets stuck in the back of his throat, choking him.

Is this what Buck felt, right before he stopped speaking? 

Bobby’s radio crackles to life, Athena’s voice tinny but loud. 

“We have a location. Wooded area behind Hank ‘n Franks, I’m already there.” 

Eddie’s taken off before Athena can finish her sentence, making a run for his car. He can hear the pounding footsteps of the rest of the 118 and Maddie behind him, but he doesn’t stop, not for a second, to consider any of them. His car won't start quick enough. He knows the bar, has driven past it a few times in passing. His mind is on autopilot, his limbs moving automatically. He’s not entirely sure he won’t break a few traffic laws to get to Buck as quickly as possible. He knows Athena is already there, along with other police officers. But it should be Eddie. It has to be Eddie. 

He barely stops the car before he stumbles out of it into a sprint. It’s dark, the moon blurred behind smoky clouds. There's a street lamp not far away, but its sputtering orange glow doesn’t illuminate nearly as far as it should. He sees several flashlights not far off, can hear people shouting, calling Buck’s name. Buck’s not going to answer, though. 

Without any gear or provisions, Eddie turns his phone flashlight on and uses it to watch his footing until he reaches Athena and the small group of police officers. 

“Eddie,” she says. Eddie can barely see her, but he can picture the kind of look she has on her face. 

“The others are right behind me. Have you found him?” 

“It’s difficult to find much of anything in this dark.”

“Okay, well, we just need to look for any dirt that looks displaced. Or, like, a mound or something, something .” 

“We’ll find him,” Athena says. “Start looking.” 

So Eddie hunts. His phone light doesn’t extend more than a few feet in front of him. He’s functionally useless. He isn’t going to find Buck. 

He’s counting every second in his head. 180,181,182…

A blinding beam of light knocks the numbers out of Eddie’s head. He squints against it, like the sun has fallen to earth to help him.

When his eyes adjust he sees the fire engine, its headlights on. Bobby, Hen, and Chimney all holding massive flashlights. The entire forest is lit up like it’s midday. 

“Keep looking!” Bobby yells. Eddie switches his phone light off and scours the ground ahead of him. With the light everything is so much clearer. He spots tyre tracks that lead off further into the trees. Taking off in a sprint, he separates from the group and follows them. It’s only one set, so either they kept going forwards, or they never left. 

The prints end abruptly, but Eddie sees it. The forest ground upraised unnaturally.

Eddie moves, quicker than he ever has before. He collapses to his knees by the dirt and buries his hand to the wrist in it. He claws and digs and scrapes and yells. He yells for Buck, and Bobby, and Athena, and Buck. He feels the earth embed itself under his nails. He scratches himself against debris. He hears commotion behind him. He can’t stop digging. Buck is right there, under his hands, waiting for him to pull him up. 

“Shovels!” Someone shouts. Eddie’s being pushed out of the way. He growls, something carnal from the depths of his anguish. He fights against the arms of someone trying to take him away from Buck. He scratches and claws and maybe he bites, he isn’t sure. 

He’s flat on his ass, a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, hair tickling his cheek. 

“It’s okay,” Maddie says. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Eddie sags against her. They watch them dig, and dig, until their shovels meet resistance. And then they’re yanking and pulling and dragging and all of a sudden there’s a hand, and an arm. 

Bobby pulls Buck out of the ground and falls backwards onto the dirt with him limp in his arms. 

No one wastes any time. They crowd around him like a flock of buzzards to a corpse. No one lets Eddie in. He’s a trained paramedic, he can help. He needs to help. 

He doesn’t think he’d be much use, dirty hands and shaking breaths. He stays with Maddie on the sidelines, helpless to do anything but watch. He can’t even see Buck. He needs to see Buck. He needs to look Buck in the eye and tell him he loves him. 

The beeping of his own heart beat has become a familiar sound for Buck to wake up to. His senses come back one at a time. The steady beeping of the heart rate monitor. The antibacterial smell. The bedding itching his back. The taste of his desert-dry mouth. When he finds the strength to peel his eyes open, the bright, unwelcoming ceiling is the first thing he sees. When he tilts his head to the side, Eddie, asleep in the plastic chair, is the second. 

His brain sort of feels like someone stuck it in a blender a couple times, then blow torched it for good measure. His tongue sits so fat and heavy in his mouth he’s not sure he’d be able to make any coherent words. He reaches out, ignoring the bandages around his wrist, and rests his hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie jolts, like he’s been electrocuted, and sits bolt upright. FOr a moment he looks frightened, a deer caught in the headlights. Like he wasn’t expecting Bcuk to wake up. 

Then he smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing Buck has ever seen. The relief glistens in his eyes. 

“ Buck .” He pushes the chair forward and clasps Buck’s hand in both of his, bringing them up his mouth like a prayer. 

“Hey. How long was it?” 

Eddie swallows, clears his throat. Buck feels it against his fingers. 

“A day and a half. You were unconscious for just under five minutes with, um, with no oxygen going to your brain.” Eddie blinks hard a few times, squeezes Buck’s hand a little harder. 

“It was touch and go for a while. Doctors weren’t sure if there was going to be any lasting… brain damage.” Eddie looks at him piercing, like he’s trying to peel back the layers of Buck’s skin himself to make sure he’s alright. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I’m thirsty, and I feel a bit foggy. And my chest hurts. But apart from that, I think I’m okay.” 

Eddie nods and lets one hand go of Bucks to grab a cup of water. He watches Buck down it silently, then reaches over and wipes a droplet of water from Buck’s chin. For a moment he just holds him, two fingers against Buck’s jaw. Then he frowns. 

“What is wrong with you?” Eddie says. He doesn’t raise his voice, but Buck knows him well enough to tell when he’s pissed. 

“What’s wrong with me? I woke up like a minute ago, how can I already of fucked up?” Buck whines, a little petulant. 

“You can’t just tell me you love me and then nearly die , Buck! That’s not fair.” 

“Oh,” Buck says dumbly. A part of him had thought he might have imagined all of that. Guess not. 

“Yes, ‘ oh ’. You’re not getting away with it now. You have to face me.” 

“I wasn’t trying to get away with anything,” Buck says softly. Some of the fire dampens in Eddie’s eyes. He looks so tired: there are dark circles under eyes that look slightly bloodshot. There is a coffee stain on his top that doesn’t look fresh, which means he hasn’t changed clothes in a while. Which means he hasn’t gone home. 

“I just… I didn’t want to die without you knowing. How I felt. How I feel.” 

Eddie swipes his cheek roughly with the back of his hand. Buck pretends he doesn’t see the tears.  

“So you were okay leaving me with that? How did you expect me to keep going , knowing you had loved me, and I was never going to be able to say it back.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t really thinking properly. On account of the lack of oxygen.” Eddie hits Buck’s arm lightly, but Buck can see the uptick of his mouth. When Eddie looks at him again, it’s so earnest, so honest and open and raw that it cuts straight through Bucks flesh and muscle and tendon and bone and hits him straight at his soul. 

“Can you say it again?” Eddie asks, so quietly Buck almost doesn’t hear it. “Now that I know you’re okay.”

With no little effort, Buck heaves himself into a sitting position and turns to face Eddie fully. He gestures for Eddie to come closer, and he does, getting off the chair and perching on the bed. They’re inches apart. Eddie seems almost hesitant to touch him, so Buck does it for him. Taking Eddie’s hands, he rests them on his shoulders. He feels Eddie clamp down, finally coming back to himself. He strokes his thumb up and down against the hospital gown. Buck cups Eddie’s face between his own hands, like he had wanted to. It feels like holding the entire world, holding whole universes in his palms. He can feel Eddie’s day and a half old stubble scratch lightly against his skin. He swipes both thumbs across his cheeks, picking up tracks of tears he won’t let fall. He looks Eddie in the eyes. He needs to make sure Eddie hears it. 

“I love you,” he says. “I love you and I’m in love with you.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches. 

“Are you going to say it back?” 

Eddie closes the gap between them in silence, pressing his words against Buck’s lips. Buck knows he smells, he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a day and a half. It can’t be pleasant. And yet it’s the best kiss he’s ever had. 

He wraps himself around Eddie, letting him consume him until all he can smell is Eddie’s skin, and all he can taste is Eddie’s mouth, and all he can feel is Eddie’s hands around his neck, his body pressed against him. Buck's own hands stroke through Eddie’s hair, devoid of any product and cotton soft. 

Eddie pulls away, barely. Their foreheads are pressed together, their lips brushing lightly against each other. They sit in the moment, breathing each other’s air. 

“I love you,” Eddie says. “So much. More than I thought was possible.” 

“I love you,” Buck says, because he needs the last word. “We can love each other now, it’s okay.” 

Eddie buries his head in the crook of Bucks neck, his nose pressing up against Bucks pulse point. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You have me forever.” And it’s not a promise Buck can make, not in their line of work. But he does it anyway, and he vows to keep it.