Teaser Monday - foundation
Teaser Monday... is that a thing? I'm making it a thing.
“I, uhm,” Eddie cleared his throat and waited until Chris had turned back to his homework and had put back on his headphones. “One of the guys from my old unit reached out.” Because he didn't want to talk about it but, well, if Buck could do the hard thing then Eddie owed it to him to try too. He frowned with his eyebrows and turned to face him, nudging the heat on the pan to a low simmer. Buck wasn't the type to do anything without expression, but he was much better at hiding than most people expected. He frowned down at his sock clad toes and crossed his arms for a brief moment. And then he blinked, his forehead wrinkled and he reached for him, loosely tangling their fingers together to rest on his thigh. “How did they, uhm… get your number?” Eddie swallowed and shrugged jerkily. “I haven't changed it.” “Should probably do that.” “It's easier than updating everything.” Buck conceded, or at least didn't argue the point, with a wincing, jerky shrug. “What's… what did you guys talk about?” “You,” Eddie shook his hand. “This.” He lingered the ring on his finger. It was a new routine, Eddie was sure, because Buck was always wearing the metal one when he was around Eddie. The only time he hadn't been was at the station, the silicone one snug on his finger but never quite looking correct against his skin. Buck smiled and Eddie smiled back with a groaning sigh, leaning forward to bump his forehead softly against Buck’s shoulder. He lingered there for a moment, reveling in the feeling of Buck’s fingers tangling with the hair at the nape of his neck. “His name is Bashir. He was…” There. Laughing one second and choking on his own tongue the next. Making his own sand angel with a blood red outline. “He was our translator.” “So he…” Buck swallowed. “Went on missions with you guys?” “Yeah.” Buck was quiet for a long moment, his hand slowly moving in and out of Eddie’s hair, his thumb tracing a line over the collar of his shirt. “Sorry, I… do you… want to talk to him again?” “I don't know.” “Because you don't have to, you know? You can… you're allowed to not want to.” “Bashir's a good kid. He… he bought Chris this toy. Some dolls and a truck, and… I think he still has them somewhere. He'd come by the med tent, you know? Because it was quieter and Samira knew some Arabic, so they could talk easier.” “You liked him.” Buck stated like it was the fact it was. Eddie shrugged and pulled back. “He was a good kid. Stupid smart too. English was his third language.” Buck was watching him, which was fair, Eddie supposed, since he was almost always watching him too. “You don't have to….” “I don't know how… to talk about this.” Eddie told his shoulder. “I know I should.” “I get it.” Buck shrugged softly. “Trauma is…” “I don't want to drag you into this.” “Pretty sure I want to be dragged everywhere with you.” “This isn't pretty, Buck.” “Neither was watching you get shot.” Eddie winced and reached up to rub at the spot the scar was. He could feel it under his fingers, puckered and pink. Completely healed now, but a reminder every morning that there had been a very good chance he wouldn't be. Ever again. “And I'm not saying that, like… I want you to do anything you don't want to do. But if you're going to do it, we should do it together, right?”
