Eddie hasn’t said a word to him aside from on calls since Buck told the team the news halfway through their shift. Buck spots him on the weights in silence, he lays awake next to him in the bunks in silence, and come morning he follows him home in silence.
Eddie doesn’t wait for him to enter behind him and Buck has to open the door for himself. He turns the lock and takes a moment to press his hands against the hard wood in front of him. Chris is at school and the silence that follows them into the house is big and suffocating, the space suddenly too small for the two of them.
Buck watches as Eddie moves around, taking his bag and all but dumping its contents into an empty laundry basket. He disappears into his bedroom and returns a few moments later with an armful of dirty clothes. Buck’s eyes follow him as he heads over to the closet housing the washer and dryer. He tracks his movements as he goes through the motions of loading the clothes and then the detergent before taking his time adjusting the settings on the machine. Buck clocks the tension in Eddie’s shoulders, the tick of his jaw as he clenches his teeth.
The closet door clicks shut, muffling the noise of running water. Eddie walks down the hall, his shoulder brushing Buck’s as he passes and Buck’s hand shoots out to grab Eddie’s wrist before he can think better of it. It feels like holding onto an exposed wire.
“Eddie?” he whispers, a shot fired on the street in the middle of a sunny day.
“Hmm?” Three heartbeats thrum against the spot where Buck is touching him before Eddie pulls away and continues down the hallway. Buck takes his acknowledgment and runs with it.
“Are we gonna talk about this?” Buck leans against the kitchen counter and wills Eddie to turn away from the sink and face him. Instead, Eddie turns on the tap and runs his fingers through the stream to test the temperature.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Buck,” he says as he picks up a dish. He hasn’t seen Eddie this closed off since his breakdown and for some reason he feels nothing but shame for it. Buck walks over and grabs a towel. His arm presses against Eddie, a familiar warmth passing between them. It feels like a burn, a brand from the tension surrounding them, pushing the walls in too close. Eddie doesn’t move away. “You already said yes.”
“And you think I shouldn’t have.” It’s not a question but Buck finds himself holding his breath for an answer anyway. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Eddie’s jaw ticks again.
“I think that you haven’t thought about this at all.” Buck doesn’t think that’s fair. He’s done nothing but think about it since Jeremy asked him. “This new philosophy has you just saying yes to anything no matter the consequences.” He practically shoves the plate into Buck’s hands and grabs another. Buck thinks he can see Eddie’s hands shaking beneath the water. “I mean, Jesus Buck, it’s a baby.”
“I wouldn’t be raising it.” He ignores the dull throb in his chest that always follows that thought.
“Exactly!” Eddie turns to face him and Buck finds he can’t look anywhere else. Eddie’s eyes are golden in the light but his gaze can only be described as piercing. “Can you really imagine having a kid out there, your kid, and not being part of their life at all?”
“It wouldn’t be my kid, not really. People do this all the time, Eddie.”
Abruptly, Eddie drops the plate in the sink and turns off the tap with more force than strictly necessary. “I’m not talking about people, Buck, I’m talking about you.” He turns and rests his hip against the sink, arms crossed in front of his chest. Buck continues wiping non-existent water off the first dish. “It would kill you.”
“It wouldn’t,” he says quickly. Too quickly. He sighs, setting down the plate and resting his palms against the counter to steady himself. “You should have heard him. He feels like he’s failing Claire, not being able to give her what she wants.” Buck understands the feeling but he doesn’t tell Eddie that. “If I can help him, help them, then shouldn’t I?”
Eddie’s hand is suddenly on his shoulder, turning him so they’re facing each other. His eyes are sad now and Buck drowns in them a little. “It’s not your job to fix everything. I keep waiting for you to see that.” He takes a step closer, his hand squeezing Buck’s shoulder. Buck’s breath catches as Eddie’s thumb shifts to rest against his collarbone, looking up at Buck through his eyelashes. “You don’t have to keep giving away pieces of yourself and expect nothing in return.”
Buck sits with the words running over and over through his head and he almost misses it. He thinks maybe he imagined it until it happens again a second later. Eddie’s eyes slip down to Buck’s mouth, his tongue appearing for a split second to wet his own lips. The tension surrounding them snaps. Buck is swaying into his space before his brain can catch up.
Eddie takes a step back. His hand slides down Buck’s arm to cup his elbow, keeping contact between them, but the damage has already been done. Buck can’t breathe. Maybe if he doesn’t breathe time will stand still.
“Buck,” Eddie starts but Buck doesn’t let him get any further.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes as he shakes his head but Buck is already moving before he can even begin to wonder what it all means. Buck likes to consider himself a fighter but right now everything in him is screaming at him to flee. “I’m sorry,” he repeats and all but runs from the house.