"âŠand I know it's not, like, the most grown-up decor, but I've decided that it's my house and I get to not care about that. Your mom says that it's like I'm living out the dorm room dreams I never got to fulfill since I dropped out of college-- which you shouldn't do, or at least you should think really hard about before you do it, but I think you're gonna have less of an urge to run away from home when you're big enough for that, yeah? So, that probably won't be a problem. Still, education is important, that's all I'm saying. Anyway--"
Eddie snorts gently to himself with a slight shake of his head, leaning into the wide kitchen island to wipe it down post-dinner while the sound of Jee-Yun's before-bed show filters in softly from the living room. Maddie and Chim's anniversary-- not the wedding one and not the got stabbed-slash-kidnapped before they could get to dinner one, but the first I love you's one-- means that Buck volunteered his babysitting services for the night.
How that ended up with Eddie also offering his services is honestly beyond him, but here he is nevertheless, already feeling the effects of being responsible for getting young children fed and bathed and put to bed sinking in as he cleans up.
He's pretty sure Buck is milking Nash's bedtime, no longer even pretending to read him a story but rather blathering on about all the little details of his new house that Eddie has already heard a dozen times over, but it's kind of too pleasant a background noise for Eddie to bother calling him out on it.
"I've been looking at all this art stuff for what belongs on the walls in a house like this, but really I'd rather the family pictures is what it comes down to, I guess. I mean, why wouldn't I wanna look at this sweet face every day, huh?"
Eddie glances at the video feed for the baby monitor to find Buck leaning over the railing, big hands gentle as he gives a faux pinch to Nash's cheeks. The little baby giggle is a perfect accompaniment to the sight and Eddie feels himself stop working more than he chooses to do so as he watches it all unfold.
He stands, dishrag still in one hand and counter only halfway clean, and he feels this breath come out of him all in one slow, consistent gust. Buck is humming now, too quiet for Eddie to catch more than the highest notes in a meandering tune of a lullaby, and Eddie is watching it unfold.
Buck is smiling so fondly down at his nephew, hair still askew from where Jee was playing with it earlier, and Eddie is watching it unfold.
Buck is there, in the next room, the way he always is.
Buck is breathing and his heart is beating and he's right there, a short hall away.
Buck is dragging Eddie into babysitting duties and batting his eyelashes until Eddie agrees to act as handyman around the new house and sitting quiet and unmoving in his grief on Eddie's couch until Eddie pushes a beer into his hands and sits down beside him thigh-to-thigh and--
Eddie sucks in a breath, small but sharp in the realization that he's gone without oxygen for longer than that bit of space between exhale and inhale to which his body is accustomed.
Buck is talking to his nephew again, a bit more of a whisper as he wishes him a goodnight, getting ready to leave the room and rejoin Eddie, only Eddie's eyes are welling up and his throat is tight and when he pushes out a long gust of air this time it's wobblier and carrying with it something Eddie hadn't even known had taken up residence at the bottom of his lungs.
The view on the monitor empties out and Eddie watches it unfold down the static tracks laid out in front of him: his own adoration, his own devotion, his own plain-and-simple love.
"Well, we knew that already, but why this time?"
Buck leans all long and easy in the entrance to the kitchen, grin wicked and fond where it curls up at the corner, and Eddie watches it unfold.
Because the tracks may be laid out in front of him, but he's certainly not in control of this runaway train.
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