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Tommy takes one last look at the bed before he leaves the bedroom and closes the door. He leaves a small gap, not comfortable with closing it all the way. He wants to, needs to, hear if something happens. If he wakes up, and needs Tommy.
It’s not likely. After he exhausted himself, crying himself to sleep, Tommy hopes Buck will sleep through the night.
Today was a lot, emotionally. It was draining. For everyone. But Tommy had seen the toll it was taking on Buck. Trying to stay strong for the past days, strong for Athena and May and Harry. For the rest of his team, even though everyone had someone to lean on. Buck had looked hopelessly lost. Alone. Drowning in grief and guilt.
Radiating desperation for someone to hold him for a second. To hold him together and tell him he didn’t have to stay strong. That he was allowed to grieve. That it was not his fault. And it broke Tommy’s heart because he didn’t feel like he could be that for Buck. Tommy had no idea where they stood now. And it was not high on the priority list to ask.
It hurt.
God, did it hurt.
Because Bobby was a good man. One of the best. And Tommy might not have worked under him at the 118 as long as the others, but in that time Captain Nash had made a big impact on Tommy’s life. Like he had done for so many others. He had seen in Tommy what Tommy himself hadn’t known he needed at the time. He had set Tommy free in more ways than Bobby couldn’t have possibly known.
And with a sickening blow, Tommy had realised earlier today that he had never actually thanked the man for that. And now he never will.
Seeing the 118 today, supporting each other, leaning on each other, hurt as well. He didn’t feel like he was supposed to be there. Not his place, not his family.
Of course, Howie had hugged him, Eddie had nodded to him, and Hen had told him she was glad he was there. That it was right he was there with them. But he felt once again like the intruder. The outsider.
Buck had only stared at him. Empty eyes, red-rimmed and dark circles. Tommy had wanted to walk up to him, gather him in his arms, hold him. Until Buck was ready to hold himself again. But he hadn’t.
Because he had no idea where they stood.
Afterwards came the wake at the station. It was beautiful. Well-organised. But Tommy mainly remembers that he hadn’t seen Buck eat a single thing the whole day. How he had stood ramrod straight, bound to break.
And break he did. Tommy had found him, outside. Around the corner, near the wash bay. Hyperventilating. Jacket of his dress blues ripped open and tugging desperately at his tie. Only then had Tommy finally allowed himself to step in. Loosened Buck’s tie with steady hands. Coached his breathing until the hyperventilating gasps turned into broken sobs. Wiped away the tears afterwards.
Somehow they made their way back to Buck’s place after the wake. Buck hadn’t said a word but he had looked at Tommy with those big teary eyes and Tommy had followed without hesitation.
Tommy tried to think it didn’t sting when Maddie looked genuinely surprised to see him when she came to check up on her brother.
In the evening he had ushered Buck into the bathroom to take a shower. Hoping it would make him feel the tiniest bit better. But with every sob he heard through the closed bathroom door, Tommy’s heart cracked a little more.
It didn’t take long after that for Buck to succumb to sleep, exhausted and all cried out.
“He’s asleep”, Tommy softly says walking into Buck’s kitchen, watching Maddie pack away the last of the leftovers in the fridge. Looking at her baby bump he realises he hadn’t even congratulated them. It doesn’t feel like the right moment now either. She lacked the pregnancy glow. And not just because of the gnarly scar across her throat that made Tommy wince. So much has happened in the last months. So much he missed from a distance.
“If you want to go home to Howie and Jee,” he started carefully, “I’m planning on staying here… to keep an eye on him.”
Maddie turns to him as he leans against the counter. For a moment she just stares at him. Intently. Like she’s waiting for him to give the correct answer to a question she didn’t ask but he is supposed to just know.
Whatever she isn’t saying, is speaking volumes. She raises one, unimpressed, eyebrow. The unspoken ‘are you really staying this time’ echoes loudly in the kitchen.
And he gets it. He broke her baby brother’s heart. It was foolish to think she would be happy to see him anywhere near Buck.
Tommy squirms under her gaze and swallows, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
The other eyebrow joins the first and he feels like no matter what he says to her, it will be wrong either way.
He wants to tell her that he doesn’t know what to do. That everything is messed up and nothing feels right. That he still has no clue where he and Buck stand but that everything in his body is screaming at him not to leave Buck alone tonight.
He doesn’t say any of that.
But at the front door, just before she leaves she turns to him, “he has a guest room now. At least use that.”
It feels like a consolation prize.
Hours later, in that guest room, Tommy doesn’t think he has been truly asleep when he hears the squeaky door opening. More stuck in that weird limbo between awakeness and sleep. Slumbering because he is so goddamn tired but too vigilant to truly fall asleep.
Soft shuffles of socked feet on the floor. The mattress dipping on his side of the bed.
Tommy shuffles backwards. The duvet lifts and in crawls a sleep-warm body. He hums as Buck curls up into an impossibly small ball against his chest, all 6”2 folded neatly together and tucked under Tommy’s chin.
A soft sniffle, followed by another, and another.
A wavering voice whispers, “can I please stay here tonight?”
His arms instinctively close around Buck, thumbs caressing the soft skin, nose buried in his curls. And as he feels Buck’s breath even out, his body growing heavier in Tommy’s arms, he can’t help but think,
“Please stay here forever”.