#im writing this instead of an essay due tomorrow but idc bc i love this

[chronicowboy]

When Buck shows up on the Diaz doorstep with a vacant frown, Eddie is struck nauseous by the wave of hope that crests in him and the swoop of deep concern in his stomach. He leads Buck into the kitchen without a word, sets him down in a chair and fetches them both a beer from the fridge. He pops the caps off, sets one down in front of Buck, and retreats to lean back against the counter just in case this isn't the conversation he thinks it is.

They drink in a stifling quiet. Eddie watches every tiny micro expression that twitches across Buck's face, catches every tic of his fingers and jump of his leg. He watches and waits and most of all he sees.

"I misunderstood," Buck murmurs eventually, and Eddie has to physically bite down on the hope that rears its head at the words. He thinks back to a pink and yellow heart, an assignment failed correctly in Eddie's opinion.

"How so?" Eddie pushes gently when Buck wavers. Buck's eyes meet his then, for a single moment, heavy with something beyond the fizzle of a three-week-old relationship.

"I never actually asked her out." Buck takes another swig of beer, shakes his head. "She asked me for coffee that first time, but we really only talked about me."

"And the lightning?" Eddie asks. Buck nods.

"And then, we kept meeting up." Eddie holds a gulp of beer in his mouth to distract himself from the sharp stab of pain behind his sternum. "But we kept getting interrupted every time I tried to find out more about her. Every time I tried to talk about more than my death."

"Maybe the universe was screaming at you?" Eddie suggests just to hear Buck's huff of disbelieving laughter.

"Yeah, well, it was wasting its time." Buck leans back in his chair, takes a deep breath. "Natalia said enough for the universe."

Eddie swallows another mouthful of beer, washes his heart back down his throat and into his ribcage for safekeeping. He'd known, of course. He'd known this was going to happen. Eddie sees Buck, so of course he sees Buck's relationships too. He saw Buck still pining after Abby even when it was clear how it had already ended. He saw Ali's hesitance in the hospital waiting room and just knew this was too much for her to handle. He saw Taylor from the very beginning. And he saw Natalia too, even though he didn't really. But he knew a death doula asking death's best friend for coffee couldn't end well.

"I actually managed to ask her out on a date at lunch today." Buck sighs, deep and turbulent. "She was very nice about rejecting me. Seems, she thought I knew this was more of a professional interest than a personal one." He scoffs, drops his head into his hands. "Thing is, I know that now. Not just because she told me, but because I realised I was only really using her to come to terms with... everything?" He brings his head out of his hands, sets his chin on his palm, gazes up at Eddie with something breathtakingly honest in his eyes. "I just... I thought she could make my death mean something. I needed it to mean something."

"Buck," Eddie sighs, sits himself down in the chair opposite, "you know that's not how it works. There's no rhyme and reason to death. As much as we might want there to be. You can look for a reason all you'd like, but that's how people drive themselves insane." Eddie folds his arms over his chest.

"But I survived, Eddie," Buck says it like he's pleading, "surely that has to mean something."

"And it does," he concedes. "It means you're still here. With the people who love you." And maybe that's too honest for the quiet of the kitchen at half ten, but Eddie finds he doesn't care when Buck looks at him like this. He sits upright, braces himself on the tabletop. "You think any of my near deaths meant anything?" Buck flinches a little at that, looking down at his bottle chastened.

"I don't know." He shrugs. "But the helicopter brought you home, right? In the end?"

"Well," Eddie swallows every drop of bravery he can muster, "maybe the lightning brought you home too. In the end."

"Eddie," Buck breathes, "what?"

"You came here, Buck." Eddie smiles weakly, lets his eyes speak for him. "You came home."

Buck opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, clenches his jaw shut. He glances around the kitchen, drinking in every inch of it, the square spoon in the drying rack that Eddie knows Buck brought from his apartment, the collection of kitschy, overpriced zoo mugs in the cupboard Eddie had left open at the knock on the door, the Hildy coffeemaker that had been one expensive prank.

"I came home," Buck repeats softly. His eyes find their way back to Eddie's. "And I fell asleep on the couch."

"Yeah," Eddie breathes a soft chuckle, "you did."

"Oh."

"The couch will be waiting for you, Buck." Eddie stands, drops his empty bottle into the recycling. "Whenever you're ready, the couch, the home, the kid, all of it, it'll be waiting for you."

"When I'm ready?" Buck croaks.

"When you're ready." Eddie smiles. "We've got time, so take it."