Chapter Text
“I said I was gonna get the groceries.” Eddie walks in as Buck is putting cereal boxes away in the cabinets.
Buck can hear his jacket hit the counter behind them. “Well, I was out,” he grabs the paper towel from the bag, “it’s fine.”
Eddie, walking to the side of him, opens another cabinet and takes a mug. “Doesn’t sound like it’s fine.”
Buck walks to the other side of the kitchen. Unconsciously moving closer to the exit. “I heard you finally got the call from El Paso Fire.” He turns to look back at Eddie. “Congratulations.”
“Who told you?”
“Let’s see, uh, Hen told Chimney that she wanted to throw you a surprise barbecue, Chimney told Ravi, and Ravi called me because he wanted to know if he should bring a gift.”
Enoch was dying, lying on the ground next to him, his heart out of his body. Buck remembers crying but feeling relieved because at least Simmons was alive, at least they knew where Fitz was. At least they were together.
Then Enoch told him. Because, while his friends had survived. The team would not. It would be their last mission together.
“I was gonna tell you.”
Everything after Bobby’s death has felt like a record player, stuck on the same four chords over and over again. The team was breaking up, the family going their separate ways.
“But you didn’t, did you?”
People arrive, so they celebrate; people leave, so they grieve. They do what they can with the time in between, but the cycle is always there. No one escapes it.
Not even him. Not even Enoch, not even Coulson, not Bobby, not Shield, and most definitely not the 118.
“No, instead, everyone has been tiptoeing around behind my back because apparently I’m too fragile to accept the truth.”
Like, he isn’t the only one this has happened to before. And maybe it is his fault. For not telling the 118 about his old team, or how they died.
“Can you blame us? Look how you’re acting now.”
“You really think I wouldn’t have been happy for you?”
“No, I knew you wouldn’t be, you’d make it all about you.”
‘Because he’s turned his back on us, Mack. Because something terrible happened, and he didn’t want our help getting through it.’
‘We’ve all been through terrible things, yet none of us turned our backs.’
He can hear Eddie still talking, but all he can think about is Fitz.
And maybe that does make him selfish.
“You’ve been spiraling since the funeral, and no one knows how to talk to you about it.” Eddie is close to his face. His eyes are angry and hurt. And Buck understands him, he does. The grief about not being there, the unpacked death of Shannon.
Eddie just doesn’t understand him.
“Well.” Buck starts to say, when Eddie places a hand on his shoulder. There’s a finger in Buck’s face.
“You’re not the only one who lost him.” Eddie backs away. “And we’re just trying our damn best to get through it.”
‘Fitz, he was sick for a long time.’
‘A moment ago, that’s the first time I said I love yo-’
Buck takes a breath. He knows Eddie isn’t wrong. Like how Fitz and Mack weren’t wrong.
He also knows that Eddie should know why. That this feeling isn’t new to Buck. That this type of loss isn’t new to Buck. That running isn’t new to Buck.
“Did Chim tell you about our talk the day of the funeral?”
“What?” Eddie leans against the counter, confusion entering his gaze. “He’s been acting weird, but we’ve all assumed that had to do with guilt. Did you say something?”
“Obviously, I said something, I just said we were having a conversation.”
“Not what I meant, Buck.”
The tense air is slowly leaving the kitchen after Eddie looks at Buck with exasperation.
“Yes, though, I did say something.”
“Something to make him feel worse, because I know we’ve been tiptoeing around you, but if you’ve been making Chimney, who already feels terrible, even worse, Buck.”
Buck’s hands go up, “No, nothing like that.” He can’t meet Eddie’s eyes as he says this. “I told him, fuck.” He shakes his head as he feels his face start to heat up.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him about my dad.”
“What good could come out of a conversation about Phillip Buckley?”
“Chim said almost the same thing.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, still surveying Buck with concern and confusion. “Well, great minds think alike.”
“Yeah, well, they also think wrong. I wasn’t talking about Phillip when I mentioned my dad.”
His eyes widen as they hear what Buck said. “Who could you have possibly been talking about then?”
“You know how you said the team doesn’t know how to act around me? How, I said, they think I’m too fragile?”
“Yes, but what does any of this have to do with Bobby?”
“The last time someone I cared about died, it was my dad. And the time before that, my boyfriend.”
“Buck-”
“No, listen to me.” He breathes harshly, staying near the door. “I already told Chimney this because I know how he’s feeling. Almost exactly.”
“You’ve never mentioned either of them.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hard to put ‘killer of my loved ones’ on a resume.”
“I bet that’s not-”
“I haven’t even told you how they died yet, Eddie.” There’s a tear running down his face; he can feel it, can taste the salt as it passes his lips.
It doesn’t taste the same as Eddie’s blood, or as his own.
“I still bet it wasn’t your fault. Like how Bobby wasn’t Chim’s fault.”
He’s walking back over to Buck as he says it. Holding a hand out in comfort. There’s a glimmer in his eyes that matches Buck’s.
He brings his hand down to Buck’s shoulder, the placement the same as a couple of minutes ago, the feeling different. The emotions are different.
“None of this is your fault. Like how none of this is my fault.”
His eyes wander across Eddie’s body. The hand clasped onto his shoulder, the look in his eyes. The love.
Fuck, Buck wants to kiss him.
“Eddie?”
“Buck.”
There’s barely a light on in the kitchen, it’s dark outside. The world feels like it just ended, but also like it’s about to begin.
Buck’s hand goes to Eddie’s neck slowly, as if he were asking for permission.
Buck hears a sigh of relief from Eddie.
And kisses him.