#if tim won’t commit to the vertigo of it all then i will take it into my own hands

[iinryer]

wip whatever! ive been tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire @bigfootsmom @pelorsdyke the past few days and im sure others i cannot recall even further back <3 ty for tagging me sorry I don’t always have stuff 2 share

(from chris comes home too soon fic, shortly after waking up in the hospital)

—

“Buck called…” Chris says it slowly, deliberately. He says it in a way that makes Eddie think maybe it’s not the first time Chris has told him, “He said you were hurt,”

Eddie swallows harshly. His eyes burn with tears he tries to blink back.

He has hazy memories about a call, and slipping down… falling from… he’s not sure. He wants to know, but he doesn’t want to ask his teenage son. Who’s here. Really actually here, in the same room as him for the first time in almost four months.

“You…” Eddie starts, voice hoarse, breath hiccuping in his chest, “how long…”

He’s not sure whether he wants to know how long Chris has been here, or how long he’ll stay. He still feels groggy and heavy. His thoughts are sticky, but he thinks he’s clinging to them with a better grip than he was earlier. He takes a deep breath. Feels a twinge somewhere for the first time. It hurts, in a far away kind of way, but it’s a sudden relief he didn’t know he needed. To be able to feel his body.

Eddie swallows, deciding it’s probably best not to have a heavier conversation before he’s fully present, and settles on, “How long have you been here…?”

Chris sits up straighter suddenly—that wary look still on his face, but there’s an alertness that wasn’t there before.

Alarm bells start going off in the back of Eddie’s head, somewhere muffled, but he can feel them. His brow furrows, a heavy arm trying its best to move across the bed to reach feebly towards Chris. His voice is raspy and thick around the tears he’s bit back, “Hey… what’s wrong?”

The smallest, shakiest voice he’s heard from his kid in years, says, “Dad?”

And then, Eddie’s horror, Chris’ bottom lip wobbles.

“Hey—hey, hey, Chris,” Eddie chokes, forcing his heavy, uncooperative hand over the edge of the mattress, “C’mere, you’re—you’re okay—,”

Chris lets out a gasping breath and lurches forward to, gently, ever so softly, grasp onto Eddie’s uncoordinated, reaching fingers.

They just look at each other for a moment. Then Chris’ brow furrows a bit, hesitating as his gaze drifts upward.

“Are you back? For real, this time?” Chris whispers, not crying, but still clearly distressed, “You were confused, before. You kept forgetting I was here,”

Tears well up in Eddie’s eyes, so suddenly, and with such ferocity it startles him. His first instinct is to shake his head vehemently and insist that no, he would never forget. He could never forget. But… He takes in Chris again. Remembers the way he spoke earlier…

Eddie takes a breath and claws at his residual grogginess, gives Chris’ hand a squeeze and says, “Yeah, buddy. I think—I think so,”

Chris nods slowly, still looking a little shell shocked, eyes drifting off to the side. Then says, “I’m supposed to call the nurse,”

Eddie wants nothing less than to have to deal with the medical staff when his son is right here. He’s here. But Chris looks shaken. Not just shaken, but shaken and containing it. And that breaks Eddie’s heart in two.

So Eddie just nods belatedly, clears his dry throat, and whispers, “Okay,”

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, looking at Eddie again. But before Eddie’s mind can catch up, Chris is reaching over to press the call button.

—

tagging @gayeddieagenda bc i want to see the thing you’re working on 🫵