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"Buck."
A hand over his bouncing knee, and Buck looks up from the locker bench, at Eddie in his civilian clothes, brows furrowed in the way they get when he's deciding how worried to be.
"Oh, uh, sorry--" Buck pushes himself up, finishes buttoning up his shirt. "We-- ah, we're still up for dinner today?"
Careful eyes, soft voice. Buck doesn't love it when Eddie feels the need to be gentle with him, but only because it's still disconcerting for people to notice when he needs it. "Yeah, man, if you're still up for it. Christopher's been angling for that sushi place that doesn't deliver to our house."
Buck chuckles despite himself, a huff of a thing that is almost reflex, at the thought of his favorite kid in the world. Then, the thought of another kid: golden hair, wide smile, falling into his arms like he trusts him. The way Buck had let him down, the way he always does eventually.
A blink, a shake of his head. He looks up at Eddie, and knows he's been silent for a beat too long.
"You know I'm always up for seeing Chris," he says, honest. That gets a smile from Eddie, in the way that only things to do with Chris (and with Buck and Chris, though Buck tries not to think too hard about that) do.
"I know," he says, and reaches out his hand. Buck remembers that hand on his shoulder, stopping him in place. He watches Eddie's face carefully, the subtle lines of tension in his body. He exhales, takes Eddie's hand.
Chris pretends not to light up when he sees Buck, the way he always does, but something about his bitten-down smile hits Buck extra hard today. He can't help the hand that runs through Christopher's curls as they huddle on the sofa to order food, even as Chris squirms away.
He's been doing that less, lately, probably still a little tender after New Mexico and all that's followed. There's something sort of wonderful about this, his returning teenage angst, proof that he's finally feeling safe enough to be stubborn again.
Buck's heart squeezes a little at the thought, at the knowledge that Christopher feels safe with him, and when he looks up Eddie is already watching him, eyes knowing.
"Ugh, you're b-being clingy," Chris complains, when Buck pulls him under his arm again without really meaning to. For a moment, Buck just wants to hold him close, make sure that he's safe and warm. For a moment, he remembers sitting beside Christopher on a bed and telling him that his dad was hurt.
He hadn't been there when Shannon had died. Some part of him will always feel guilty about that.
"Sorry, kid, it's been a long day," Buck says, squeezing him closer for a moment. "You're just gonna have to put up with me."
Chris rolls his eyes, but stops squirming quite as much, allowing Buck to be embarrassing in that way of his that always reminds Buck of the sweet kid he'd met all those years ago.
Eddie stays quiet, something complicated in his expression. Normally, Buck loves every one of Eddie's expressions, wants endlessly to dissect every corner of them. Today, he thinks--
"Don't--"
And can't quite meet his eyes.
He should've known, though, that Eddie wouldn't be able to let things rest. Eddie follows him into the kitchen after dinner, leaving Chris on the couch absorbed in his cellphone. Buck, breaking down containers to put in the recycling, doesn't look up at him.
"I'm fine, Eddie," he says, because if he doesn't say anything Eddie will do that thing where he looks at him, silent and worried, until Buck feels like he's killed five consecutive puppies.
Eddie crosses his arms, leans on the counter. "You've said that before," he points out, because Eddie is incapable of not finding the darkest allusions in every conversation. "Didn't go great."
Buck sighs. "Connor and Kameron dying won't make me relapse, Eddie."
"You know that's not what I mean." Eddie waits Buck out patiently, until Buck folds himself back up, catches his eyes. "C'mon, Buck. Nobody's gonna blame you for feeling some kind of way about what happened. It's a lot for anyone."
Buck turns on the faucet, watches the water run over his palms. "What about you?" he asks. "How are you feeling?"
"It's not about me, Buck," and, there, there was the catch in Eddie's voice, the thing that Buck could focus on.
"Eddie," Buck says. "Come on. A kid losing his parents in a car crash? I'm not the only one who's been a little clingy with Chris tonight."
"So you admit that you're not 'fine'."
Buck sighs. "Obviously not, Eddie, but you aren't, either."
He turns off the faucet, the kitchen is silent. They both look at each other.
"It's not fair, what happened to that kid."
Eddie's eyes are faraway, and Buck steps forward, puts a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "It's not fair what happened to you, either."
A small spasm of emotion. "At least I had Chris."
"And Chris had you," Buck says. A moment of silence. He knows Eddie can hear what he's not saying: And who does Theo have?
"They didn't find any relatives for him?"
"Not in this state, from what Deidra said." Buck shrugs. "Connor was-- well, that whole group I'd been traveling with didn't have great relationships with our families. Kameron, she....didn't mention any family, either."
He should've asked, while she was crashing with him. He should've done something more.
"Well," Eddie says. "At least you were with him all the way to the hospital. It's not nothing, making sure that that kid wasn't alone any step of the way."
"Yeah, but--" Buck leans back, looks up. "I kept thinking-- you were there for Chris. It should've been one of them with Theo. It shouldn't be me. I'm not--"
"His dad?" Eddie crosses his arms. "You're not." he agrees, and something about the matter of factness of his words feels like setting a bone, hurting and healing all at once. "But you saved him, Buck. Just like you saved Chris. And you were there for him. No matter what you are to him-- you're that."
Buck closes his eyes. "I don't know if that's enough," he admits, feeling like an open wound. "I-- I wasn't there when they needed my help with Theo, before. I wasn't there for Chris, when he needed me, when you needed me--"
"Buck--"
"I just-- I wish I could do more, but I don't know what else I can do." Buck looks into the living room, at Chris, grinning down at his phone, earbuds blasting music that he should probably tell him to turn down, for the sake of his eardrums.
"Buck."
Palms on either side of his face, and Buck blinks down at Eddie, who has a stubborn set to his lips. "You were there for Chris, and for me." He says, unequivocally. He turns to look at Chris for a moment, then back at Buck. "That kid," he says. "That laughing kid, who never has to worry about whether or not someone will be there for him-- that's because of you, Buck. You and me. We did this together."
Buck wants to close his eyes, but Eddie is looking at him, and Buck has never quite been able to look away first. "And I don't know what's going to happen with Theo, but I know that you gave him that, too: someone who is in his corner, no matter what. Someone who sees what anyone else would think is too much, and decides to love him anyways."
And, oh, Eddie can't have known about the words that spilled from the locked box in Buck's chest all those years ago, but he says them anyways, like they're a given. Like this is just who he knows Buck is.
"So don't tell me that you weren't there for him, for us," Eddie says, steady and a little furious. "Because you were. You are."
The sharpness of his tone fades into the silence of the kitchen, the hum of electricity. Buck thinks about trust, a small body in his arms, a steady hand waiting to catch him. He looks at Christopher, grown and golden, thinks about a child that was loved, despite everything.
He wishes he could go back a day, sit at that sun-lit table, chocolate milk still sticky on his skin. He wishes he could tell Connor and Kameron that Theo would be trouble, yes, but that he would be alright. That he just needs someone to see him as he is, to hold him steady, to love him anyways.
Here, Eddie's thumbs sweep over his face, a child Buck has loved like his own beating heart waits for his terrible, emotional parents from the living room, and Buck allows himself to feel the ache.