#hen and buck and tequila

[ikilledyvette]

I was tagged by @do-androids-dream-ao3acc for Six Sentence Sunday. This is my 9-1-1 "Buck and Hen Drinking Buddies" fic that I'm working on edits for.

She won’t let him look, which is ... pretty suspicious, actually. He tries to grab the phone, and Hen holds it up away from him, and they struggle until Buck falls off his chair and laughs so hard he forgets all about the text.

Eventually, Buck clambers back up and picks up the bottle of tequila again—but before he can even pour, Hen slaps her hand down over his glass.

“Uh-uh,” Hen says. “No. No more tequila for you, not until you give me something more to work with than I messed things up with Tommy.”

Tagging literally anyone who sees this and wants to play! (I get anxious about tagging people sometimes. But I really mean it: you wanna play, just say I tagged you. I like reading fic excerpts!)

[gotbuckleys]

denny’s got a school play and karen somehow ends up saddled with contributing to costuming but she’s way over her head and needs an extra pair of hands like yesterday and refuses to let the shitty PTA mums in on her struggle so she hits up the GC with a “do we know anyone 1. available and 2. creative” and buck replies with “tommy is taken but he is creative 😉” and karen sends back four eye rolling emojis before tommy calls karen with a “do you actually need a hand with something” and karen replies “that depends can you sew” and tommy surprises her with a confident “i can actually” and finds out tommy picked it up from someone’s wife when he was regularly going to the VA. hen comes home at midday to karen and tommy seamlessly churning out farm animal costumes on the kitchen island with megan thee stallion blaring out at 85db and she snaps a picture and sends it to buck who is still on shift and who immediately replies with “can you ask tommy to sew replica turn outs while he’s there im too scared to take my actual ones home in case it turns into another borrowing the fire truck situation” and hen is like “not before i convince karen to cut and hem her spare lab coat much shorter”

[alchemistc]

Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.

Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.

Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.

(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)

It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.

She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.

But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.

She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.

"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.

---

She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.

Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.

Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.

He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.

"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.

Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.

"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."

Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -

He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."

She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.

"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"

Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."

"And if I hadn't asked?"

She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.

Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.

He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.

The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.

"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.

"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"

"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."

That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.

"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."

His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."

Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"

Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.

"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.

___

She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.

Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.

"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."

Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.

"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")

Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -

Love is love, and all that.

"We, uh. We've been talking about it."

Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.

"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."

It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...

It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.

Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.

Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.

[champagnetommy]

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Tommy’s been staring at Evan from across the room and he’s so focused on the curve of his mouth, as he smiles at something Hen said that he’s startled when Bobby drops in the chair next to him.

“He’s easy to love,” Tommy says softly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He manages to tear his gaze from Evan so he can turn to look at Bobby, who’s looking at him with a gentle smile, like he’s realized something.

“People don’t always get that,” Bobby nods. “He’s come a long way, messed up more than a few times, but he’s never been hard to love. It’s why I gave him a second chance, or three,” he chuckles. “You’re good for him,” he adds.

“He’s good for me,” Tommy counters, but smiles wide, pink dusting high on his cheeks.

“I know you don’t need me to say it, but I’m proud of you, too, Tommy. I see everything you’ve accomplished, and you were already a good man when you were at the 118, but it’s nice to see you so settled, at peace,” Bobby declares with such conviction it makes Tommy throat constrict a little. “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m happy you and Buck found each other.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Tommy says, clearing his throat. “It means a lot. Having you-and Hen and Chim back then, gave me the courage to go after what I wanted. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I stayed, if I had found Evan sooner, been part of the family sooner,” he trails off, a little embarrassed at everything that spilled out.

Bobby claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “There are always a millions what-if’s, but if you ask me, I think you found each other at exactly the right time,” he offers. “You and I know anything can happen in our line of duty, no day is guaranteed. We gotta hold on to the good things.”

Tommy nods and if he didn’t know any better…

“You know I already have a ring, don’t you?”

“I had my suspicions, but now I know for certain,” Bobby grins, knowingly.

“Is that.. is that okay with you?” Tommy asks, pretty sure of his answer, but nervous all the same.

“You don’t need my permission, son,” Bobby starts, “but if you’re asking me what I think? Well, Buck’s judgement is pretty darn great, and I’ve never seen him so happy,” he gives Tommy shoulder a squeeze. “Besides, I told him I thought you were good for him months ago,” he shrugs.

Tommy’s heart soars. He knows Bobby cares for him, and the rest of the 118 welcomed him with open arms, but it still shocks him a little to have verbal confirmation of approval. “You mean the world to him, Bobby, so knowing you approve means the world to me,” Tommy admits.

It’s Bobby’s turn to look flustered, opting to smile and duck his head in bashful acknowledgment. He clears his throat, “Alright Kinard, go save your man. Looks like he and Hen found the tequila.”

Tommy laughs, seeking out Evan and sure enough, he’s already pouring shots. He shoots up to indeed save his boyfriend- soon-to-be finance, his mind supplies hopefully. They had a hike planned tomorrow morning and Evan would not be happy with himself if he was hungover for it.

Tommy pauses to steal another glance at Evan and he knows he must have the fondest, dopiest smile on his face.

“Oh you’ve got it bad,” Bobby chuckles, shaking his head.

“Like I said, he’s easy to love,” Tommy repeats his earlier statement. He feels a pull on his chest, as he walks over to Evan, like a string always leading him home.

I could find him, blind, he thinks.

[circledwithaheart]

update: now posted to ao3

Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.

"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"

The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.

"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.

They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"

Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?

The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”

Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.

“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”

Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.

"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.

The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."

"Buck."

Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"

"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."

Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."

They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.

"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.

~~~~~

As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.

Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.

He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.

Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.

It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.

I did, remember? It's better this way.

Sal attaches the picture this time.

Better for who, exactly?

The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.

He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.

"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."

[eddiazx]

blame it on the alcohol - evan buckley x reader

(because I was inspired by the episode of the Rookie)

It was awkward. It always is when the two of you were in the same room these days.

Buck and you had been broken up for three weeks, but the tension was still fresh and raw. The two of you didn't know how to navigate a professional yet friendly relationship. It would've been easier to avoid each other after the split, but you both worked at the 118 and considered the team like family, so neither one of you had the intention of leaving despite the weirdness.

Chim had suggested the team go out for drinks after a particularly gruelling shift. You would've declined, but frankly, you were tired of avoiding gatherings with your friends because of Buck.

When you knock back your 7th tequila shot of the night, you realize that Chim and Hen were singing karaoke on stage, and Eddie had stepped out to call Chris - leaving you alone at the table with none other than the man you broke up with.

Buck's blue eyes are clear and observing you steadily. Even in your inebriated state, you notice that he had been nursing the same beer for the past two hours.

You blame the tequila when you ask softly, "do you still love me?"

Buck inhales sharply at the unexpected question, but his eyes never waver from yours. "I never stopped."

You blame the tequila again when your eyes start to water. "You think we made a mistake breaking up?"

"Every single day for the past few weeks. I haven't been the same without you."

"Take me home?" You ask, and it's obvious you're not referring to your own too-quiet apartment, but about Buck's loft. Buck nods, signalling to the waiter to pay the bill, and mouthing something at Hen and Chim before he envelopes his warm hand in yours to bring you home where you belonged - with him.

The next morning, you wake to your head pounding and your mouth dry, but clad in Buck's sweater and loose shorts that he had urged you to change into last night. Your face is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat like all is right in the world.

When you roll yourself off of him to settle onto the pillow, Buck slowly blinks awake. His lips quirk up into a hesitant but stunning smile. "Morning. Do you remember what we talked about last night?"

"I do. And I don't regret it." You answer honestly.

"Good." Buck exhales in relief, before he presses the softest kiss onto your lips. He can't help but moan into the kiss; he went three weeks without your touch, so it was the perfect reprieve after weeks of loss and longing. You move to straddle his hips without breaking contact, his morning wood pressing just right against your clothed core.

"I missed you so much, you know that?" You murmur while rolling your hips against his.

"I missed you too. Last night was the best sleep I've had in the past few weeks. Missed having you next to me in bed." Buck admits, thrusting his hips upwards at your pace.

When your hips start moving faster, trying to chase the high, Buck presses his thumb against your clit through the layers of clothes, and watches in fascination as you come apart on top of him. He follows not long after, spilling into his boxers.

You get off of Buck almost immediately, and before Buck can be too disappointed, you're pulling him up and into the shower for another round of make-up sex.

[capseycartwright]

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it

ao3 link

Buck should – he should be freaking out, right? He’d lived thirty-two years of his life without coming close to kissing another man, and it should be making him freak out that tonight, he did – but Buck felt flooded with the oddest sense of calm he’d ever experienced in his life.

He’d kissed a man.

or - after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

Buck can’t help but bring his hand to his lips as Tommy leaves, fingers brushing gently against where the other man’s lips had been just a few minutes previously.

The other man.

Buck should – he should be freaking out, right? He’d lived thirty-two years of his life without coming close to kissing another man, and it should be making him freak out that tonight, he did – but Buck felt flooded with the oddest sense of calm he’d ever experienced in his life.

He’d kissed a man.

He’d kissed Tommy Kinard.

The giggle escaped his mouth before Buck could even try and contain it, and one turning into a fit of laughter faster than he could control, Buck unable to wipe the smile from his face as he grinned. He’d just kissed Tommy Kinard – and he’d really fucking liked it, actually. It had been different, that much he was certain of – the way Tommy had tugged Buck closer, two fingers under Buck’s chin, purposeful and confident as he responded to Buck’s weak attempts at flirting with a kiss. Tommy had been solid, under his trembling hands, broad and big and nothing like Buck had ever experienced before.

And he’d liked it.

Buck was moving before he could even really think about it, his feet somehow knowing where to take him, on autopilot as he slid behind the wheel of his Jeep, too lost in his own thoughts to realise that the radio had been switched to some criminally bad pop music station (Eddie’s doing, he was sure), the music background noise as he drove, replaying that kiss over, and over, the phantom drag of Tommy’s facial hair against the sensitive skin of his upper lip a feeling he was sure he could come to get very used to, if he was allowed a little more kissing.

Buck was parking up in front of Hen and Karen’s house before he even realised where he was – but, now he was actually thinking about it, he wasn’t sure where else he would have gone, there and then. Hen was – Hen was another big sister, to him, and a lesbian big sister at that, so she was the right place to come in the midst of his –

Buck didn’t want to call it a crisis. He didn’t feel like he was having a crisis. But he was definitely experiencing something – and Hen would understand, he knew.

Knocking softly, so as not to wake up Denny, Buck waited patiently for someone to answer. He hoped Hen would answer. He wasn’t sure if he had the words to explain to Karen that he needed to speak to her wife because he’d kissed a boy for the first time in his life, and he’d liked it.

“Buck?” Hen answered the door with a raised eyebrow.

“Tommy Kinard kissed me,” Buck blurted, because why beat around the bush, right? He might as well dive right into it. “Tommy kissed me,” he repeated, in an effort to sound somewhat less manic. “And I liked it. I wanted him to kiss me.”

Hen’s surprised expression morphed into something softer, and she gestured for Buck to step inside, closing the door softly behind him. Gently – always gentle, because Hen was the gentlest soul Buck had ever known – she sat him down on her couch, bustling around the kitchen for a couple of minutes before she reappeared with a steaming cup of tea.

“Chamomile?” Buck breathed in the familiar smell, knowing that Hen would have added honey – the good one that Karen always bought at the farmers market – the sweetness a familiarity he had come to be grateful for over the years. “No tequila?”

“This is a tea conversation,” Hen replied firmly, sitting next to Buck on the couch. “So. You kissed Tommy.”

“He kissed me,” Buck corrected, because he didn’t want to take credit for the way Tommy had leaned in and kissed him, confident in a way that Buck wasn’t – not yet, at least.

“And you wanted him to?” Hen repeated Buck’s own words back to him, gentle even in the way she pried.

“I didn’t know I wanted him to until he did, if that makes sense,” Buck’s brow furrowed. “I – I didn’t know why I was so jealous, that he was spending so much time with Eddie. I thought I was jealous that he was replacing me in Eddie’s life.”

“But that wasn’t why you were jealous?”

“It was, a bit,” Buck admitted with a grin. Hen laughed, and Buck felt himself getting comfortable, genuinely comfortable. He – he’d never talked to anyone about his sexuality before. An hour ago, he thought he was straight. “But I – I think I was jealous that Tommy wanted to spend time with Eddie, and not me.”

Hen’s smile was soft, her expression new – it was new, he supposed. He was Hen’s annoying straight little brother, deep conversations about queer identity were new territory for them. “Was it a good kiss?”

Buck let out a spluttering breath. “Hen!”

“Oh, come on! You look like you’ve sat down and had a beer with God himself Buck, I’ve got to ask if it was a good kiss.”

Buck had been kissed a lot in his life. He didn’t say that to slut shame himself – that usually earned himself furious glances from Hen, and Eddie – it was the truth: he had been kissed a lot in his life, by people he loved and by people he’d only just met – and kissing Tommy had been nothing like he had ever experienced before.

“It was a good kiss,” he admitted, worrying the corner of his lip, his face burning as he spoke. “It was a really good kiss.”

“It sounds like there’s a but coming,” Hen drawled, taking a long sip of her tea. She knew Buck too well, sometimes. He supposed that was why he came here, to her – he could have gone to Maddie, or Eddie, or Bobby, even, but Hen had been the person he’d come to. He needed to be seen, there and then.

“But – how did I not know? How have I lived thirty something years of my life and not known I’m into guys that way?”

That was the confusing part, Buck had decided – he had never really even questioned his sexuality, shouldn’t he have questioned it long before now? Spent years being tortured with this great big queer secret he was carrying around?

Hen was quiet, for a second, contemplative. “There is no one queer experience,” she began, pausing again. “Some people – they don’t know until they know. There’s no requirement to have your big gay crisis when you’re fifteen, Buck.”

“That’s the thing – I don’t feel like I’m having a crisis,” Buck sighed. “That’s what makes it more confusing.”

At least – at least if he was having a crisis, he might be able to put words to the strange mix of feelings churning in the pit of his stomach, none of them bad, all of them unfamiliar.

“How do you feel?” Hen asked, giving Buck a gentle nudge.

He –

How did he feel?

Buck felt like he was on cloud nine, for one. He was still replaying the kiss with Tommy over, and over, in his head, remembering the way Tommy had lifted Buck’s chin, the way Buck’s heart had thudded to what had felt like a dramatic stop as the other man had moved closer, Buck forgetting how to breathe for a second when Tommy kissed him, soft, and gentle. He was excited, too, thinking about Saturday at eight. What would he wear? Where would Tommy decide to take him? Should Buck offer to pay?

Buck felt – well, he felt like every part of himself he had never understood had clicked into place, the puzzle that made up Evan Buckley finally taking shape and making a picture Buck could see himself in. Buck felt like everything in his life made infinitely more sense now, strange interactions and friendships making more sense as he looked back on his life with queer-tinted glasses, hindsight lifting a haze of confusion he’d carried with him for his entire life.

Buck felt –

“I feel like I can breathe properly, for the first time in my life,” he finally managed, tears rolling down his cheeks before he could even attempt to blink them away. That was the truth of it – Buck felt like he could breathe, his chest free of the strange tightness he’d felt for as long as he could remember. Buck felt like he was free.

Hen’s watery expression reflected his own, her voice gruff with tears as she spoke. “Welcome to the club, Buck,” she smiled, reaching for Buck’s free hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “We’re happy to have you.”

Buck couldn’t help the half sob, half giggle that escaped his throat as he let Hen’s words wash over him. All his life, he’d been searching for a place he belonged, bouncing from job to job, bed to bed, and state to state, all in a desperate search for belonging. He’d found it – mostly – with the 118, but there had always been something that was missing, something he’d never had the words for.

The something was this – queerness. He was a part of a community he knew would fill that missing piece in, colour it in liberation and freedom and wrap him up in something bigger than himself.

Buck leaned into Hen’s embrace, his tea long forgotten on the coffee table, Hen’s warmth more of a comfort than the chamomile could ever be. “I’m so happy to be here,” he replied wetly, Hen’s arms wrapped tightly around him, and, well -

It was the truth. He was happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time. The happiest he’d ever been in his life, maybe. Happy, and free – and bisexual. Evan Buckley was bisexual. A bisexual man who had a date on Saturday, but he’d have time to freak out about that later.

For now, he was going to enjoy the way breathing came easier than it ever had done before.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Ravi the matchmaker

based on this and for @thecarrott who loved it

Ravi fixes his shirt, loving that Buck and Tommy decided to semi-formal style for their wedding and he didn’t need to sweat in a hot uncomfortable suit, staying near Buck and watching Tommy cry, when Buck said ‘I do’.

And now time for his best man’s speech.

“Ladies and gentlemens, for those little who don’t know me, I'm Ravi. Once I was a probie who was trained by Buck and now we’re partners on heavy rescue. But the reason I was chosen by Buck is not just it. You see Chim, as he said, was the reason this couple whose love we celebrate today,” Ravi raises his glass to shit grinning Buck and Tommy whose two pairs of  bright and happy eyes, but red from a lot of happy tears, “met almost three years ago. And I,” Ravi proudly smiles. “was the reason they,” Ravi looks at kids, “hang out one night and leave each other wanting more and pining with the idea that it’s not done yet,” everyone laughs.

Then Ravi blushes, sending hate look at the Buck, “but I also the reason they got back together. And even though without me they’d be pining for god knows how long, they still with another best man bullied me into telling you the whole story. So prepare to laugh. And remember I had a lot of tequila in me thanks to one Evan Buckley… Sorry Buckley-Kinard. ”

-

Two years ago

“And that is h-h’w Hen and Karen’ found the way to each other again…” Chim hiccups, “and here we are,” he makes fake bows when Eddie starts applauding.

Ravi smiles at the happy couple, hoping to one day be as happy as them. It’s sweet to know you’re so loved.

But Ravi sees how the smile on one face doesn’t reach the eyes of one person who tries hard to hide it. Buck. The person who got really quiet during the whole story, looking lost, and taking two more shots, as if trying to get away from something.

Ravi knows from what. He saw Buck look at Tommy’s number during the night several times. All the time closing the contact information, before opening it up again.

That won’t do it. Ravi saw them together, listening to Buck talking about Tommy and saw the way Tommy smiled when he saw Buck that night in the bar weeks ago.

If those old schoolers won’t grow up and talk, it seems Rvai had to make them.

“Hey, Buck, my phone’s dead. Is that ok if I’ll call my sister to come and get me?”

Man just nods, opening up his phone, and Ravi smiles at him, patting his shoulder.

“Thanks, man you’re the best.”

Ravi doesn’t sway when he’s walking. But just barely. Two or three last shots were too much. But Buck paid, so it’s fine.

Quickly making sure Ravi’s alone outside, he opens the phone, finding the number he needs.

Please, don’t be on shift

��‘Van?” a sleepy voice answers, “what’s wrong?”

“Tommy, it’s Ravi,” Ravi makes his best sad voice, but then thinks that it’s unfair to say ‘it’ to Tommy even for a second. He can’t say that Buck’s dead. Not even for a moment to get them back together. What if it’ll break Tommy’s heart? 

But he needs a plan. And quickly. He remembered Buck’s home screen. Buck holding baby Han, smiling like it was him in labor and now has his baby in his arms.

The lamp bulb brightens up.

“Tommy, Buck’s in labor. It’s yours baby. There were complications. The baby and Buck need you.”

Silence.

Ravi checks that the call is still there.

“Chim told you how he got Hen and Karen back together,” Tommy asks without any sounds of him moving to get here and Ravi feels sad. Doesn’t he love Buck even a little bit?

“Yes.”

“And how much tequila did you have?”

“Much.”

“Yeah, I figured. But you had this bright idea on your drunk head. I was mentally building the crib for a second on a sober one.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with my plan,” Ravi pouts. It was a good plan if only he remembered that Tommy was around when Chim did it to Hen and Karen.

“Ravi,” Tommy seems to try and control his laugh, “Evan is cis man. He can’t get pregnant even if I’d give my best shot,” Ravi’s pretty sure he hears the whisper ‘and god did I give it my best shot’.

Blinking, Ravi feels like wires that tequila unplugged in his head are plugged back. He can’t stop himself from laughing too loud.

“Oh fuck. Please can you not tell anyone?”

“Nuh, Ravi, sorry, when Evan tomorrow will ask me what made me come and talk with him, I’ll tell him the truth. But I promise to keep it from Chim till the wedding.”

Ravi can live with it.

“Wait, you will talk to Buck?”

He hears a deep exhale that sounds too hopeful.

“You wouldn’t try and matchmake us if there was nothing for me to hope about, so yes. I’ll talk to him. Now go and give Evan his phone back. And delete this phone call.”

“Yes! Good luck, Tommy.”

Ravi does as he’s told, deleting the call history and then calling his sister, faking to everyone that she was not answering the number for a while.

Buck🦌

Next evening he has the new texts sitting in his notifications.

Thanks, Rav❤️

You can’t imagine what it means to me

Even if I can’t believe you said Tommy that I was in labor 🤣

-

Everyone in the room laughs too loud and Ravi can’t feel bad because that evening might have actually never happened or happened not soon enough if he didn't.

And he definitely is ok with some other people's jokes because it’s him who is going to be the godfather of baby girl Buckley-Kinard that is expected to be born next month.

He’s sure he and Skylar Robbie are going to be huge friends.

[saveyourblood]

The Exit (Evan Buckley x Reader)

Summary: “She isn’t as good as me,” you say. It isn’t a question. It isn’t even a taunt — it’s a simple fact. The one where you and Buck were together, now you're not, and you're cycling through the five stages of grief.

Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: mild violence, toxic(ish) relationship

“There’s no way he moved on that quickly.”

Denial. 

Hen just looks at you. You take another sip of your drink. 

She successfully convinced you to go out after work for the first time in months. Unfortunately for her, that doesn’t mean you’re good company. Your only plan for the night is to get so drunk that you can get his face out of your head. 

“It’s like I always say: Men ain’t shit.”

“You literally never say that.”

“I don’t have to, because they ain’t shit,” Hen grins. 

You try to smile. God, you wish you could. You’re pretty sure that night stitched the corners of your mouth into a permanent frown. 

“I just can’t believe it,” you mutter. You signal for the bartender. 

Hen sighs. “Look, babe, there’s no way that relationship is going to last. She’s a rebound.” 

“You think he’d introduce us to his rebound?”

“The whole point of a rebound is that you don’t know it’s a rebound,” Hen explains. “Buck thinks he loves her because he still loves you, and that love doesn’t just… disappear. It has to go somewhere.”

“Why can’t I have it?” 

Hen sighs again, a sad smile on her face. 

“Maybe I was just a really shitty partner,” you cede. “Maybe if I could be better, we could be better.” 

Bargaining. 

Hen’s in the middle of a sip, but she shakes her head anyway. “No, that’s not what happened.”

“I don’t even know what happened. I think that’s the worst part. I mean, here’s this man that I think I’ve been in love with for the last three years, and the second I mention the word ‘marriage,’ he runs for the hills.”

“He’s got some personal shit to work through,” Hen says simply. “Shit that you can’t fix.” 

“But why couldn’t he let me at least help him? Isn’t that what a partner is supposed to do?” 

Hen plays with the napkin on the bar in front of her. “Buck’s never had a real partner — not until you came into his life. I think underneath the macho firefighter charade is a boy who’s just… scared of how he feels.”

“He doesn’t know how he feels,” you scoff. 

The bartender wordlessly fills the empty shot glass in front of you. You take it the second he’s done pouring it, wincing as it burns your throat. 

“Maybe that’s what he’s scared of,” Hen says softly. 

“He can’t be that scared: he has a girlfriend,” you retort bitterly. You push your empty shot glass around aimlessly before quietly adding, “I’m so tired of feeling this way.”

Depression.

You won’t be reaching Acceptance anytime soon, so for now, you cycle through the other stages of grief… except for Anger. 

You and Anger either don’t get along or get along far too well. You and Anger is either tequila and lime or tequila and a goddamn blowtorch. Anger gets you everything you want or it ruins it, and there’s no in-between. You’re not friends, not even close; Anger is your shadow, nipping on your heels, ready to strike in the right lighting. 

You look over your shoulder at the pool table. Buck and Eddie are taking turns shooting, and off to the side sits Taylor. 

You don’t get what Buck sees in her, yet you absolutely get it, and it’s an infuriating paradox. She’s a news broadcaster, but she looks like she could be a model. Where you have scars and curves, Taylor is clear and straight-edged. She flips her long red hair over one shoulder, and even under the shitty bar lamp, it shines. 

It’s the right lighting. 

You push yourself away from the counter and hop out of your seat. You march across the bar, far too steady on your feet considering how much you’ve drank. It’s as if Anger, which usually follows behind you, is propping you up and pushing you forward. 

Taylor sees you first, because of course she does. She smiles a little as her eyebrows furrow. It’s juvenile, but you kind of want to punch her in the mouth and see what her perfect little smile would look like with a fresh painting of blood over it. 

“Is everything alright?” She asks innocently. 

“Yeah, just… Buck, can I talk to you? Outside?” 

Buck, who’s lining up a shot, looks up. His mouth opens slightly before he forces it closed, his jaw clenching in the process. He quickly shoots, the cue ball bouncing off the side of the table before hitting another ball. He doesn’t even look to see if he made the shot; he stares at you the entire time. 

He stands up straight, rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah.”

Buck leads the way. If Anger wasn’t following you so closely, you’d feel Taylor’s gaze burning a hole in your back. 

It’s cold outside. Not unseasonably, considering it’s February. Hell, it’s not even actually cold; you grew up on the East Coast, so where you’re from, winter chills you to the bone. Here in LA, winter is more like a breath of fresh air from the summer's unrelenting heat. 

Buck crosses his arms over his chest. He’s from the East Coast too, so you know he isn’t cold.

“What’s up?” He asks.

You laugh. Like, actually laugh. You haven’t done it in so long that you almost forgot how it sounded, how it feels. You missed the rumble in your chest and the shaking of your shoulders. You missed laughing, and you missed laughing with him. 

Buck isn’t laughing, though. He’s just staring at you. 

“You know what? Nevermind,” you chuckle, turning on your heel. 

You take a few steps down the sidewalk before Buck calls after you. “Where are you going? You’re the one who wanted to talk!”

You stop dead in your tracks, any trace of a smile leaving your face. 

Buck shifts behind you. He’s close enough to hear but not close enough to feel. 

“Does she know?” You ask, back still turned to him. 

He shifts again. You let the silence deafen you both.

“...It hasn’t come up.”

You laugh again. It isn’t genuine this time. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

You try walking away again, but Buck grabs your arm. It feels like his fingertips are made of fire. You spin around to face him, causing him to let go. His jaw is set again. 

You grab fistfuls of his shirt, spinning him around and pushing him against the brick wall of the neighboring building. 

Anger. 

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me,” you growl. “You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

Buck keeps fucking staring at you. He raises his chin a little, but he doesn’t try to move your hands. 

“You are so full of shit, you know that?” You continue, shaking your hands a little before letting go of his shirt. 

“You’re drunk.”

He can smell it on your breath. He can’t possibly know you well enough to know you’d never say any of this sober. Because sure, you were together for three years, but you’re not together anymore. One of the reasons for that has to be that he doesn’t know a damn thing about you. 

“You’re still full of shit,” you repeat. Even you can tell that it isn’t as convincing this time. You take a step back; being this close to him is making your stomach turn. 

Buck pushes off the wall, towering over you. “How? How am I full of shit?” 

“You’re a liar,” you say, tilting your head up to stare at him. You won’t let him intimidate you. 

“A liar?” Buck challenges, getting closer to you. 

Anger. Anger. Anger. 

You put your hands on his chest and push him against the wall again. You aren’t strong enough to manhandle him — to a certain extent, he’s letting you push him around. That pisses you off even more. 

“You lied to me for three fucking years straight,” you hiss. 

“How?”

“You told me you loved me.”

Your voice wavers, and you can’t stand the sound of it. You clench your jaw and take in a breath, which you let out shakily. No fucking way are you going to let yourself cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve your tears. 

“You told me you loved me, and when I wanted more, you ran,” you say, pausing to swallow. “You told me you loved me for three years, and not even three months later, you’re showing off your new girlfriend.”

If only for a second, you swear his vision drops to your lips. Buck goes right back to staring at you, though, and you see his jaw pop — he’s getting angry. 

Good.

“Are you ever gonna tell her?” You challenge. You lean in, the gap between you growing shorter every second.

His jaw doesn’t relax. 

A chuckle escapes you. Of course he isn’t. 

You put your hands on the wall, inches from Buck’s waist on both sides. You lean in, turning your lips to his ear. “Remember this, Evan Buckley: everywhere she touches you, I was there first.” 

Buck grabs your face with one hand, and your brain short-circuits. Your chin is tucked between his thumb and index finger, the rest of his fingers resting on your cheek and neck. He pulls you back first, then turns you around until it’s you who’s pressed against the wall. 

Then, he kisses you. His hand stays where it is while the other pins your hip in place. The kiss doesn’t feel like it used to; it’s somehow worse yet better than when you were together. There’s no trace of love in the way his tongue slides across yours or the way he takes your lip in between his teeth. Everything about this is so rough, so raw, so needy.

Eventually, Buck brakes away but keeps his forehead pressed against yours so hard you think it might leave a bruise. He huffs out a few breaths that you gratefully inhale. 

“She isn’t as good as me,” you say. It isn’t a question.  It isn’t even a taunt — it’s a simple fact. Three months ain’t got shit on three years. 

“You just had to go and fuck things up, didn’t you?” He mumbles, voice gravelly. 

He’s kissing you again. Your head is fuzzy, and you know it isn’t from the booze. He’s pressing into you, but you manage to snake a hand in between your waists to palm him. He’s half-hard, and when you make contact, he lets out a low groan into your mouth. You swallow it whole. 

His words finally register. You squeeze him, probably a little too hard. He groans again, finally moving his hand from your face to the wall behind you for leverage. 

“I fucked things up?” you challenge quietly. Your hand hovers over Buck’s crotch, and he leans closer, desperate for any connection. “You’re the one who ended things.”

“You’re the one who wanted to change things,” Buck argues. 

His head dips, and he starts to kiss your neck. You let out a small sound at the sensation, biting your bottom lip to quiet yourself. You’re still pissed at him, but you continue palming him through his pants, which earns you another groan. 

“I brought up the idea of a future, and you ran,” you say between heavy breaths. “You’re more scared of change than you are being alone. It’s pathetic.” 

Buck bites the skin above your collarbone in protest to your words. You wince; it’ll definitely leave a mark. 

The weird thing about your relationship with Buck is that it never really felt like it ended. At least, that’s how you took things. One second, you were happy, and the next, you were moving into a studio apartment that wasn’t his. There was no funeral, no eulogy, just a loss so deep that it gave you whiplash. You didn’t bury your relationship under six feet of dirt; you buried it under six feet of snow. You buried it alive. And the snow is melting. 

Buck’s hand sneaks under your waistband, and it’s as if the alcohol in your bloodstream burns off. You’re left sober, staring at a sickening reality: this is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Even though it feels so fucking right, it is so fucking wrong. 

Both of your hands find his shoulders. You push him away, not as roughly as before, not even with a lot of force. Really, all it takes for him to pull away is the change in your demeanor. 

“You have a girlfriend,” you whisper.  

You still don’t think it’s fair that he got to move on so quickly. Buck is flying down the freeway and left you at an exit miles back. He’s moving on way faster and way better than you ever could. It doesn’t feel fair. But then again, it doesn’t matter what you feel. Because there is no ‘you and Buck’ anymore: it’s Buck and Taylor, and somewhere in the backdrop, there’s you. 

Your hand finds his wrist, which you pull away slowly. You press your lips together, then let out a sigh. “You should probably get back to her.”

Acceptance.

[shitouttabuck]

this could be the year for the real thing

buck/eddie | 1.7k | 7x06 coda(ish)

Eddie can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this horrifically hungover. His pre-teenage-pregnancy body bounced back blessedly quickly from tailgate parties and keg stands and beer pong tournaments, but after that? His cousins threw his bachelor party before he married Shannon, which involved a lot of mixed liquor, and then there were a couple miserable nights out after she left him, and now, last night, him and Buck the sole bachelor party members standing after Chim didn’t show up.

This is his worst hangover, because at least all the other times he wasn’t seized with worry about one of his closest friends and regret that he and Buck hadn’t noticed the empty hotel bed the night before. The nausea from hell doesn’t help, either.

Chim’s safe now, under the careful monitor of Cedars hospital staff and Maddie no more than three feet away from him at all times. The relief is a palpable thing, and Buck offering him a steaming paper cup of green tea soothes the churning in his gut a little bit, too.

He takes a sip and sighs gratefully, slumping against Buck in the hospital waiting room chairs when he takes the seat beside Eddie.

“Still queasy?” Buck asks, voice a rumble.

“Mm,” Eddie says, “back-to-back shots of tequila and sambuca are not it.”

Buck shudders beside him. “Don’t,” he begs, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I’m still very much in range of hurling.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eddie’d only managed half a banana when he went home to shower and change, but he knows Buck’s been with Maddie most of the day, and when it comes to taking care of other people, he sometimes forgets about himself.

“Had a granola bar,” Buck says, eyes still closed. “Can’t—don’t wanna think about food yet.”

His stomach chooses then to grumble audibly, with traitorously comedic timing, and Eddie snorts. Buck opens one eye to grin at him.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says, patting his belly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t, huh? Then I guess she’s not interested in stopping by the juice bar on Sunset on the way home? Some sweet, sweet smoothies, all that fresh fruit and hydration, don’t even have to chew…”

Buck’s stomach rumbles interestedly and they both laugh.

“That sounds—so good, actually,” Buck admits. “We can pick up the peanut butter one for Chris, he’s always hankering—”

He breaks off as Hen appears at the end of the hallway, looking around and hurrying over as soon as she spots them. Eddie doesn’t think anything’s wrong—she’s beaming—but he and Buck sit up quickly in their seats anyway.

“Ugh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s dizziness at the sudden movement wholeheartedly agrees.

“We’re having a motherfucking wedding,” Hen grins, tugging them both to their feet, uncaring of their delicate dispositions. “Right here, right now.”

“Hospital wedding?” Buck asks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, okay, what do we need—who do we call—fuck—”

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Hen smiles. “Just get friends and family over here, Karen’s gonna pick up Maddie’s dress, I’m gonna call Bobby, and we’re having a wedding.”

Buck’s already pulling up a copy of the guest list on his phone, squinting at it and muttering names under his breath.

“You boys got this?” Hen asks while dialling Bobby.

“Yep,” Eddie gives her a mock salute. “We’ll split the list and make some calls.”

He types out half the names Buck reads off to him in his notes app, and the two of them work through them methodically, calling Chim and Maddie’s nearest and dearest for this impromptu ceremony.

“Chris will kill us if he misses it,” he says suddenly, and Buck looks up at him, mid-text.

“He’s with Isabel, right? Pepa’s place is only a ten minute drive from here.”

Eddie nods. “I don’t have my car, though. You drove me.”

Buck tosses him the Jeep keys. “I’ll finish calling people, you go get them.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and nearly bodies himself with the instinctive urge to lean over and kiss Buck on the cheek as he stands. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, because it’s an urge he fought and failed about thirty times last night, Buck’s sweaty skin pressed to his, salty under his mouth every time he dropped an innocuous, friendly kiss to his face with nothing but alcohol in his veins.

It hadn’t seemed out of place then, everything shiny and bright, Buck leaning right back into him.

Now, under the fluorescents of the hospital, organising a makeshift wedding for their family? Eddie doesn’t think it would land quite the same.

“Back in twenty,” he tells Buck instead, and has to physically tear himself away from the smile Buck turns his way, warm and golden under the harsh lights.

Chris and Abuela are delighted to be included, and, true to his word, they’re back at the hospital as the rest of the guests begin arriving, too.

Eddie’s—okay, he’s not going to say he’s not a crier, it’s just that his best friend is Buck, who cries at anything remotely tearjerky, so in comparison, Eddie’s not a crier. Now, though, they’re both very much damp-cheeked, much like everyone else crowded into this hospital room, watching Maddie and Chim exchange rings and vows with little Jee between them.

They’re a family, have been and would still be even if they never got hitched, but the fact that Chim refused to wait another few weeks, another few days, another minute before marrying Maddie? Eddie’s chest aches in the best way, and he slings an arm around Chris, and, before he knows he’s doing it, he looks for Buck.

The ceremony’s over, and Buck’s grinning at his phone, and Eddie pats for his own automatically, anticipating a goofy text.

But Buck’s edging backward, slipping out of the room, still grinning at his phone, and the ache inside Eddie spreads like an inkstain, blotting his insides.

And then Buck reappears with Tommy, which Eddie knew he was going to do, because who else would have Buck smiling at his phone like that, leaving his sister’s wedding even for a minute. Not me, Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t.

He’s not ready to make sense of the churning inside him—he doesn’t think he can blame the hangover for this one—when he clocks Tommy’s soot-stained everything and the way Buck’s own smudgy face matches like a puzzle piece.

He sees the way Chim notices, and Hen and Karen, Bobby’s eyes going wide and then soft. He sees the way Margaret Buckley doesn’t even attempt to school her face into anything but distaste and he hates her, but Buck’s not even looking at her. He’s looking at Bobby, and then he’s looking at Chim, and he’s smiling, this wide, guileless spread of happiness across his face.

Eddie’s helpless to smile too, the churning too complicated to parse beyond easy joy at every step of Buck’s sexuality journey, and this second-hand relief he’s not sure he’s got any entitlement to—he doesn’t, does he? Sure, he can be relieved that Buck doesn’t feel like he has to stay closeted, that everyone who matters loves him just the same, but he doesn’t get to feel like any of the relief belongs to him. Not now.

Not—yet.

Tommy’s made his way to Chim’s bedside to congratulate them properly, and Buck’s squeezing through the guests to get to the Diazes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Chris. “Hi, Isabel.”

His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.”

Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat.

And beside the joy and the second-hand relief, there’s—this sense of profound loss. This emptiness, a space inside him he didn’t realise Buck had been occupying all this time. And now it’s like Eddie’s entered the room, finally, but the door is swinging shut on the far wall and Buck’s footsteps are echoing softer and softer as he leaves. Eddie’s late, he’s missed something he didn’t know was waiting, much less had a timeline on it.

The room empties out slowly, everyone giving the Buckley-Hans some space to rest, and Buck disappears down the hall hand-in-hand with Tommy.

“Y’all ready to go home?” Eddie asks Abuela and Chris. “We can get take-out.”

“Is Buck coming?” Chris asks.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie glances down the hall. “Although—” he pats his pocket, retrieving the Jeep keys, and startles when Buck appears by his shoulder.

“You have my keys,” he informs Eddie, stretching his hand out for them. Eddie drops them in his palm dutifully. “Juice bar? The fancy one on Sunset.”

Chris whoops excitedly, and Eddie smiles, even as his brow furrows.

“You’ve not got a hot date?” he asks Buck quietly as they walk to the exit.

“I drove you,” Buck shrugs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, stopping Buck with a hand at his elbow. “I think we can manage getting a cab.”

“I seem to recall you promising me a ‘sweet, sweet smoothie,’” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You tryna stiff me, Eds?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Uh—do you wanna ask Tommy along?”

“Nah,” Buck says easily. “Maybe another time. He’s just gotten off shift. I’m seeing him tomorrow, anyway.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods slowly, ache bittersweet. “Just us, then.”

Buck beams. “Me and my boys,” he crows, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him forward so he can wrap the other one around Chris. Isabel makes a noise of offense, and Buck hastily amends, “Me and my boys and Abuela. Dream team!”

Christopher groans at the very public embarrassment and Abuela smiles indulgently at Buck and Eddie lets himself get pulled along, safe in this room in his heart that won’t ever be empty, even if Buck’s not filling it in the same capacity as Eddie’s getting ready to allow himself to want.

It doesn’t matter. The door on the far wall’s not quite swung shut after all; it sits ajar, crack of light and Buck’s love spilling through. Maybe one day he’ll come back through it. Maybe one day Eddie’ll follow after him enough to ask.

[ikilledyvette]

Fandom: 9-1-1 Chapters: 1/2 Rating: M Relationships: Buck/Tommy, Buck + Hen, Buck + Eddie Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hen Wilson, Eddie Diaz, Tommy Kinard Additional Tags: Angst & Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Queer Feels, Drinking, Triggers, Trauma, Panic Attacks Summary:

But see, when he had the ... the thing, the panic thing ... it wasn’t really about the sex, like. Tommy probably thought it was about the sex. Tommy probably won’t ever have sex with him again, and it’s—well, that’s fair, but it’s also not fair. Buck likes him so much. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But it did happen. And yeah, it happened because of the sex, but that’s not what it was actually about. It was more just ... poorly timed. Sex-adjacent.

(Or—Buck is incorrectly convinced he’s ruined everything with Tommy and brings the problem—and a bottle of tequila—to Hen's door.)

[princessfbi]

Not So Hidden (Anymore) 

Tommy kissed him once then twice, tasting the tequila and limes beneath the distinctive taste of Buck on his lips. Tequila, huh? He’d heard stories of the trouble Hen and Buck had gotten up to when left unsupervised with a bottle of tequila. He shot Karen a grateful look. “Thanks for calling me.”

Read on Ao3

Rated: G | One Shot | Words: 2,070

[ambernotember]

wip wednesday

tagged by @setmeatopthepyre

They’re silent for the rest of the drive to Hen and Karen’s house, which Tommy vaguely remembered from a few long ago 118 hangouts before Bobby had started at the station. Chimney, Hen, Sal, and himself, celebrating getting rid of another captain waiting out retirement, out on the porch so baby Denny could sleep, at Hen’s place instead of the bar so she could still celebrate with them.

Karen was waiting when they got inside, two mugs of coffee and a bottle of tequila on the table.

Hen checked her phone. “Ravi is almost here. Tommy, be nice to my wife. Karen, do your worst.”

“Her worst?” Tommy stared at Hen, more than a little worried.

“Clearly we’ve all been missing whatever’s going on here,” Hen waved at him, which he took to mean him-and-Buck, “and Karen’s about as neutral a party as you can get and still talk to someone who has at least a bit of an idea of what’s going on.”

“I really don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” Tommy said, wondering if he could get his keys back from Hen.

“You’re miserable, he’s miserable, I think there’s lots to talk about,” Karen said, guiding him to a chair.

“He wasn’t supposed to be miserable,” Tommy said before he could think about it.

“Dumping him wasn’t supposed to make him miserable?” Hen asked, eyebrow arched.

“I, I didn’t dump him, I broke up with him.”

A horn honked outside. “That’s Ravi. Good luck with this one.” Hen leaned in to kiss her wife goodbye.

… it seems like a lot of people have been tagged/posted already today. If you see this consider it a tag for you!

[tanktopdiaz]

since there's some mayravi love going around the dash i'm going to put into words this thought. i have a buddie wedding-finale lead up to pitch. s10, main ravi, reoccurring may, guest star albert through the season and one episode wonder guest star adriana diaz. (this got long, soz)

breadcrumbs: may keeps finding reasons to not be around when bobbys around - she'll leave dinner when bobby gets off early, she'll invite athena out and about instead of going to their place, she'll come to the station but only when bobbys out, suddenly have an active social life with her new coworkers so she's always 'in a group chat' and 'has an event to go to, just this after work thing'. played off as a joke by athena that she's got a man under wraps. better be a good one, she says.

it's mentioned by chimney that albert is in town for the wedding but he's couch hoping between the hans and his friend's places. eddie says one of his sisters was staying on their couch but she ran off to his other sister and they're sharing a hotel room - which he's fine with, they still live on south bedford and she's a decade younger than everyone so he gets it, but he misses her. chimney can not relate.

ravi is really nervous and twitchy when bobbys at the station and he's like, sucking up but in this weird way where he's always volunteering for cleaning duties or the more laborous rescues. they get a very nice bonding moment after a rough shift that gives ravi the horrors and the whole time ravi looks pinched as fuck, totally uncomfrotable, but he relaxes by the end of it. one day he's scrubbing the engine and athena brings something for bobby and ravi's tripping over his feet greeting her and she's looking at him, hand on her hip, playful and teasing smile while he keeps trying to be normal. bobby comes up behind him, hand on his shoulder. 'ah, thena, leave him alone' he'll say, 'ravi's a good kid.'

two episodes before the wedding: episode opens on ravi's morning routine - he ends it in the kitchen over a cup of tea then in comes albert han. canon besties albertravi. ralbert? alvi? albert had plans but they fell through, ravi has work so they can't hang. he's like oh ill just come! then he goes and drops hints he wants to hang out with chim and jee, chim doesnt pick up on it. alarms go off, none of his people are man behind.

buck's not at work because he's going supersayain clipboard buck style on the wedding planning and this is eddie's last shit. bobby is in mother of the bride mode and barely leaving the kitchen and/or loft, chim and hen are reminiscing on their weddings with eddie, and ravi is staying Away doing Chores. in walks may. ravi tenses up where he's mopping the floor, starts pointing her around the place like 'this is the bay, and that's the ambulance dock, that's the locker room, this is the gym, you know what a loft is? we have one of those!' then they look up and eddie chim n hen are hanging over the blacony looking at them. may blushes bright red. then bobby 'hey what are yall looking at' comes to the balcony and 'may! thank you for bringing [whatever]' then he goes down to them and may meets him halfway up. eddiechimhen keep looking at ravi. smiling this specific smile. he huffs an goes back to his Chores.

albert doesnt want to be at ravis. he goes to some places he used to go to when he lives in LA but nothing is similar. night comes and he stumbles on this bar, goes in and orders a beer. cute girl to his right. she's pounding back tequila shots and muttering to herself. gorgeous actually. he overhears her muttering to herself, interjects with a casual deadpan joke to something she said. she laughs. he laughs. they talk. he's feeling put out because he misses the city he doesn't recognize, she's also from out of town. oh. talks about how she loves the city and realized once she was here that she misses her family. she's got a brother in LA. here visiting. no biggie. he says right. same, btw. no biggie. she buys him a shot. they get on really really well, he likes laughing with her. she says, we could maybe. ya know. find somewhere new here, for the both of us. fade to them making out in the elevator.

episode before the wedding: alberts back at ravis now that ravi's off shift. albert overshares about this awesome girl he met and they hooked up and she ghosted him afterwards. he's kinda sad about it. ravi's all twitchy and says it's just the adrenaline dying out from work. he's gonna catch some sleep. looking at his phone the whole time he's talking.

bucks at bathena's doing some prep. really, he's trying to get away from maddie. he's clipboard buck but her wedding kinda fell through so she's overcompensating too. it's a whole thing. he's sitting at the table waxing poetry about eddie and here comes may. she hugs buck and athena then when she notices bobby she says hi and doesn't engage. bobby doesnt mind bc he's zerod in on this food prep. athena and buck both Look At Her. she rubs her neck. ok im going to get my dress and go. (she's one of bucks groomspeople) bobby pipes up 'oh may? no plus ones, right? i want to make sure i've got enough pigs in a blanket to go around.' athena and buck turn to her with identical expressions like comically. 'i dont remember may did you rsvp with a plus one?' may goes red as a tomato. 'nope! no plus one! your numbers are right bobby! i'll see you later!'

rehearsal dinner, eddie's sisters are supposed to be there but apparently they both got in a fight with his parents so of the four only the older sister (sophia) shows, the others gone off and licking their wounds. we know his parents, buck shares that the youngest (adriana) is kind of a hot-head. 'you two would get along,' he tells may as a jokey joke. it's a big moment for eddie, coming to see this family around him, his family. a-plot shit. albert and ravi are sat next to each other and may is on the other side of the room and they never interact. albert stands behind may stands behind hen stands behind maddie on bucks side. eddies side, it's chim and karen and his sisters. oh shit, adriana isn't here. bobby, the officiant who's pairing them off, pulls ravi up and saddles him in front of sophia. 'adriana's paired with may, so just slip on in there and, uh, hold her place while we do the run through. i trust ya, kid.' lines them up behind the entrance, athena plays the the procession music and bobby starts leading them through how it's gonna go, humming and nodding and throwing around directions. chris isn't a groomsperson, instead working directly under bobby the whole time because he wants creative control and also the ability to sit back and play his switch with no consequences.

when it gets to ravi and may's turn to meet in the doorway, time stands still. the church light behind ravi has a beautiful halo-like glow on him . disney prince curls all in his face. may's hair swoops back from an non-existent gust of wind, she's got a soft blush and she looks up at him with big beautiful eyes. 'hi.' 'hi.' they're staring at each other. there's little angels singing inthe background. then ravi stumbles, because sophia shoulder bumps him, and then bobby's calling out 'ravi! may! come on!' and so ravi holds his arm out and may takes it with a 'sorry about that' and he says 'no problem, my lady,' or something equally honeybun sweet and when albert does the same to sophia he breaks his neck looking back and forth between them

wedding (finale/two parter probs knowing tim): typical creepy crazy a-plot emergency. i cannot put into words how bad i want a blizzard-type weather event emergency. so we'll go with that, sure. but also it's like not affecting them that much? this is my vision...i do what i want. they're all there and alive. and drinkin.

next time we see alvi/ralbert they're at ravi's place and albert's talking about his hookup again, ravi's not really paying attention. albert says 'so no plus one?' ravi looks to him panicked, says nothing, scene ends.

at the venue, bobby makes a joke about how ravi's been relieved of his duties since adriana showed. 'thanks for keeping may's company yesterday.' 'yes sir of course sir it wasn't a problem sir.' athenas like chilllll kid, we're not at the station. ravi says 'yes maam of course maam sorry maam' then scampers off to help. athenas watches him go, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched. 'hes a good kid,' she says thoughtfully.

ravi runs into albert. he's like 'you gotta help me stay away, man' and albert says 'yes ravi of course. follow me. i know where we can go.'

since the wedding party is kind of all encompassing, they have a big space with separate suites at each end some everyone can intermingle. or some shit idk. may and adriana hit it off and eddie says something to hen about how it's nice to see his sister and sister in law getting on. camera cuts to may wildly telling a story and this very pretty girl laughing along with her and. we, as the audience. oh we know. we know it. dramatic irony abounds as ravi and albert stumble into the large area. may looks over. adriana looks over. they both very quickly stop laughing. ravi stops dead in his tracks and pales considerably. albert knocks into his back, stumbles. everyone else is turned to them, looking back and forth.

next wedding scene. eddies still mad, adriana is hiding behind sophia whos yelling at her too, albert is hiding behind may and ravi. buck is holding eddie back and helping calm him down, but he also believes he and eddie cant see each other before the wedding so he's got his hand over his eyes and eddie's doing the same thing to appease him but he keeps opening his fingers and glaring at albert as he yells. preferably in spanish. 'YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER???' madney and henren are eating this shit up. 'im almost glad this happened,' may mutters to ravi as albert continues to cower behind them, 'now it'll be easier for us to...' and he says 'maybe youre right' and he like. tries to hold her hand WAHHHHH oh god theyre so cute. eventually eddie is lik im fine im better. adriana we need to talk.' and he glares at albert as he and adriana walk away. buck takes his hand off his eyes and takes a really deep breath and turns to albert. 'YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER IN LAW????'

then the wedding happens. at the after party, there's a group dance and ravi and may are next to each other during it in the background. adriana and albert reconnect. awkwardly apologize. he asks if they can start over maybe, so they introduce themselves to each other again with big smiles. she buys him a tequila shot. cut to chim and maddie standing away, looking at them, chim cheesing and maddie laughing.

may and ravi are talking over drinks, much looser than they've been. may compliments his suit, runs a hand down his lapel. he undoes a button with a wink. they laugh, have a drink. make it to the dance floor. music changes into something slow. they're already dancing so they. ya know. keep dancing. a hand on his shoulder. one on her waist. looking at each other. no words. 'we should-' 'no. let's stay here.' he looks up. bobby's watching them, stone faced. looks back down. gulps. 'yeah. yeah, ok.'

at the end of the night, albert and adriana sneak away in the background. bobby claps a hand on ravi's shoulder while they're cleaning up. 'lets you and i talk'

then s11 goes craaaaazzzzy w ravi trying to impress bathena and then ravi and may r both mains and albert is reoccurring (and have adriana move to la mid-season after he finally gets over their wild three-day romance)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 19th-25th 2024

I just realized this weekend that I'm gonna be away on a work conference the day of the premiere AND the next day 🙃 FML 🤦‍♀️

Complete

🔥 the kiln-blaze in my body by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Post-S4 | 17K | Explicit): It's nearly six months before Buck tells anyone.

Leveling Up by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Poker Date spec | 6K | Mature): When he rose to his feet, he found both Eddie and Maddie staring at him. “What?” “You, uh,” Eddie said, his eyes looking sort of glazed over. “You just did measurements by eye. And math.” “In your head,” Maddie said. “Huh,” Buck said. “Yeah, that was – weird.”

We blossom and ask no reason by lamardeuse / @lamardeuse (Canon Divergent, Florist!Eddie | 6K | Mature): “Hen!” Eddie turned at the shout to see a tall blond firefighter built like a brick wall jogging toward them. As he came closer, Eddie amended that to ridiculously pretty brick wall. Holy shit, now Eddie realized why those firefighter calendars were so popular.

🔥 The Definition of Love and All Things Ineffable by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (Post-S5 | 29K | Teen): Maddie asks him, like she’s been waiting to ask him, “Does Christopher call you ‘Uncle Buck’?” “No,” Buck answers. “Why?” “He called me Aunt Maddie. You’re far closer to him than I am. I thought if I’m his aunt, you’d have to be his uncle. Why wouldn’t you be Uncle Buck?” And Buck doesn’t really have an answer. It’s just. It’s wrong. He’s not Chris’ Uncle Buck. Maybe he should be? Maybe he’s supposed to be? He shrugs and uneasiness settles in his stomach. What more could he ever be to Chris but an uncle? ~ In which Buck processes his breakup, learns his place in his family, has a huge crisis of sexuality, and finds the truth about love beating in his own heart. 

🔥 counteroffer by buckleyseddie/ @buckleyseddie (Season 6, Getting Together | 25K | Teen): Or in order for Buck to make it up to Eddie, Eddie suggests that Buck gives him one hundred kisses. 

That's What Friends Are For by phdmama/ @phdmama (Friends With Benefits to Lovers | 4K | Explicit): Eddie shows up an hour later. He’s clearly gone home and showered, as his hair is damp. He’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt that Buck is pretty sure is his, and he smells of soap and bacon. No, wait, the bacon scent is coming from the bag of takeout containers he’s carrying in one hand. Buck’s eyes narrow at the sight of the object Eddie’s clutching in his other hand. “Tequila?” he asks, raising one eyebrow and then laughs when Eddie just makes a bitchy face back at him. “I mean, I’m in, obviously, but it’s like nine in the morning.”

Like Lovers Do by phdmama/ @phdmama (Accidental Sexting | 5K | Explicit): The thing is, Eddie knows Buck’s body as well as he knows his own, maybe even better. He’s seen Buck changing, averted his eyes from Buck striding naked into the showers in the locker room. Eddie has watched Buck push through a workout, he’s pressed his hands to Buck’s flesh as if he could stop the bleeding through sheer force of will. He’s woken up to Buck sleeping on his couch or stumbling around his kitchen, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he pulls out the ingredients for pancakes. All this to say, he’s seen Buck’s body a million times, in a million different ways. But not like this. Never like this.

Flickers of Fate by steadfastsaturnsrings/ @steadfastsaturnsrings (S3E15: Eddie Begins, Soulmates AU | 1,6K | Teen): "Did-Did the man who helped me pull out the dead solider survive?" Eddie mumbled, "He-He....said he was right behind me but then disappeared...Is he okay?" "There was no other man, Diaz, You were the last one out of the helicopter. You pulled out that solider all by yourself" The official standing over him responded, looking at Eddie curiously.

Spinning Out by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (S7 Spec | 2K | General): The sun always rises in the east and sets in the west. What goes up must always come down. And if Eddie Diaz is in a helicopter with his team, it must fall from the sky.

(put some music on) soft and slow by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Canon Divergent | 6K | Teen): He walks up the stairs to the loft, and finds himself facing the backs of four office chairs. Over by the kitchen counter, Ravi gives a signal, and all four chairs turn around in impressive sync. “Saw you on TV last night,” Eddie says, still grinning. “Something you want to tell us?” OR: buck auditions for the voice. it goes about the way you'd expect.

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 46K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

Buttons and Patience by Tizniz/ @tizniz (PWP | 2K | Explicit): If anyone asks, Buck will blame Eddie’s buttons. Whenever Eddie wore those damn Henleys, he kept them reasonably buttoned up. But apparently not tonight. No, tonight those buttons were undone and exposing tantalizing skin, golden in the dimly lit bar lighting, and exposing Eddie’s collarbones. Buck wants to bite. Hard. Or lick. He’s not picky.

among the hungry and the patient by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (PWP | 3K | Mature): “Wanna make out?” Eddie blinked. Understandably so, by the way. He licked his lips, frowned, and took a step forward. “Excuse me?” Buck inhaled softly, somehow encouraging himself even more. “I said, do you wanna make out?” OR: Buck loses his patience with Eddie and asks him to make out.

Once Is A Mistake, Twice Is On Purpose by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Friends With Benefits | 5K | Teen): “Friends with benefits.” “Yeah.” “Just sex.” “Just sex.” Buck confirms, nodding.

Take It by Tizniz/ @tizniz (PWP | 2K | Mature): “Take it, Buck.” Eddie tells him when they break apart, squeezing Buck’s wrists. “Take it all.” “H-huh?” “This is about you and your pleasure.” Eddie gives his wrists another squeeze before he releases them, humming once more in approval when Buck keeps his hands there, fingers curling around the edge. And then Eddie grabs onto Buck’s hips, pulling him forward roughly against Eddie’s thigh. “Take what you want. What you need.”

WIP

if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 4/16 | 15K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

🔥 a foundation of trust and love we cannot see by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (FWB, BDSM, Sub Eddie, Dom Buck | 3/17 | 62K | Explicit): “It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word. Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent. For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. “I can show you if you’d like.” Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 6/9 | 41K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 119/? | 357K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Re-Read

🔥Plus or Minus by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (S5 | 10K | General): “Why are you cleaning out the kitchen? Why is my stuff in boxes?” Eddie slows, then stops. “Figured you’d want it back.” It’s quieter. Pained. When he says it. “I haven’t decided anything. So unless you’re kicking me out—” “Buck. Come on.” He’s not angry or snapping. It’s still quiet, and somehow that hurts even more. He’s resigned and defeated, and Buck is a scooped out, gutted, hollow shell. “I know how this ends the same way you do. You want to be loved, you want to be married. You’re going to leave. Might as well…” His voice cracks before he can finish and get it under control. “Shouldn’t drag it out.” ~ Taylor is offered a job across the country and asks Buck to go with her. Buck has to figure out if he wants to start over or if he has a reason to stay right where he is.

[capseycartwright]

i find your name, etched behind the frame

Buck had always felt like he belonged, in Eddie’s house. It was one of the things Eddie had noticed, right away, when they’d become friends – Buck had just felt like he belonged, right from the beginning, his spare sneakers next to Eddie’s own on the rack, Eddie’s wardrobe filled with Buck’s clothes, half the ingredients in the kitchen bought by Buck. He was such an integral part of their lives, and Eddie wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.

He didn’t want it to end.

coda for 8x09.

ao3 link

Eddie knows, logically, that it’s the tequila that’s making his brain feel fuzzy, but there’s a part of him that still blames it on how messy his head feels even when he’s sober – moving to Texas, all the life admin and decisions that come with that decision, it had been completely overwhelming, and Eddie’s brain sort of felt like soup, most days. The tequila was mostly to blame today, though. 

They’d gone to one of Eddie’s favourite restaurants in LA, a tiny, hole in the wall Korean place that Chimney had introduced him to that he’d miss when he was back in El Paso, and they’d followed that up with a trip to a painfully hipster cocktail bar that Buck and Hen had worked hard to convince them was worth a visit – it was instagrammable, which Eddie didn’t like, but he had to admit they made one of the best margaritas he’d had in a while. 

Bobby had driven them home, a fond look on his face as he made his stops – Hen, first, and then Chimney, and finally Eddie’s. Bucks? Buck and Eddie’s? Eddie wasn’t sure, yet: the sublease didn’t start for another two weeks, but Buck already spent nearly all of his time at Eddie’s place, so it had only felt natural for them both to be dropped off at Bedford Street, Buck humming under his breath as Eddie struggled with the keys. 

“You’re not being very helpful,” Eddie grumbled, when he missed the keyhole again. He wasn’t that drunk. He didn’t think he was, at least – but he wasn’t sure if they’d ended the night on five, or seven margaritas, so his judgement was somewhat impaired. As was his vision, apparently. 

“You’re not my landlord yet,” Buck teased, sticking his tongue out at Eddie in response to the glare Eddie shot his way. He took the keys from Eddie’s shaking hands, somehow managing to get the door unlocked, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled inside.

Buck had always felt like he belonged, in Eddie’s house. It was one of the things Eddie had noticed, right away, when they’d become friends – Buck had just felt like he belonged, right from the beginning, his spare sneakers next to Eddie’s own on the rack, Eddie’s wardrobe filled with Buck’s clothes, half the ingredients in the kitchen bought by Buck. He was such an integral part of their lives, and Eddie wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.

He didn’t want it to end.

He wasn’t ready for it to be ending. It was as if LA had been a brief sabbatical from the life that his parents were determined to have him life – he had his seven years of fun, in California, and now he was having to go back to Texas, to El Paso, to the place he had never felt like he was able to be truly himself in, and his parents were getting exactly what they wanted: Eddie, back on their doorstep, Christopher, living with them, Eddie proven to be a bad parent. 

“Incoming,” Buck half yelled, Eddie reaching out on instinct to catch the water bottle his best friend was throwing his way. 

“No beer?” 

Buck shook his head, slumping on the couch, his jacket tossed aside. It was new, Eddie noted – the denim had been soft, underneath Eddie’s fingertips as they’d hugged, earlier. “We need the water,” he hummed, chugging half the bottle in one go. “We had a loooooot of tequila.” 

Eddie shuffled toward the couch, deliberate as he sat down close to Buck, not wanting to leave an inch of space between them. He wanted to soak up as much of Evan Buckley as he possibly could, while he could – two more weeks wasn’t enough time to enjoy every good thing about Buck. He was – he was the best friend Eddie had ever had, and he was going to miss him in ways he was struggling to understand, or articulate. 

Leaving Buck felt like leaving behind a part of himself.

Buck let out a happy noise as he looked around. “I’m glad, that a stranger isn’t going to move into your house,” he admitted. “I – I like it here,” he looked embarrassed, as he made the admission, his cheeks pink – though, Eddie supposed, that could be blamed on the tequila too. 

Eddie looked around the living room, drinking in the view. This was the first house he’d ever really gotten to decide for himself. He’d grown up in a house that couldn’t really be called a home, his parents’ expectations a weight he had been forced to carry too young. He and Shannon had lived on-based, in military housing, which was frankly soulless. 

His little house on Bedford Street was the first house he’d picked out for himself, and for Christopher. He’d fallen in love with it for the natural light, the way the kitchen was bright in the mornings, sunny as he drank his morning coffee and watched as Christopher ate his breakfast. The living room was always warm, cosy as Eddie watched whatever documentary Buck had picked out for them, feet shoved under the thick, soft blanket Buck had insisted on buying him as he recovered from getting shot. 

Even his bedroom finally felt like his – put back together with Buck’s help, the walls painted a warm cream, Buck having bullied him into buying expensive linen sheets, and finally hang some décor on the walls. 

This was his home – and he was leaving it.

“Eddie,” Buck’s voice was soft, concerned. “You’re crying.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie couldn’t hide it, the tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want you to think it’s been easy for me, to decide to leave,” he looked at Buck, his best friend’s look of concern clear even through Eddie’s tears. “I wish I didn’t have to go.” 

“I know,” Buck reassured. “God – Eddie, I know, I know you have to go, and I’m sorry I’ve made it all about me, lately.” 

“I’m sorry I said that,” Eddie shook his head. “You have – you’ve got every right to be upset, Buck. I would be, if I were in your shoes.” 

“I just – this, your house, with you and Christopher – it’s the first time in my life I feel like I’ve had a place where I belonged,” Buck admitted, and oh, if that didn’t make Eddie want to stay – wish he could stay. “I know I’m a bit of a stray dog, but you and Chris adopted me, all those years ago, and I just – I wish everything could stay the same, forever.”

“You’re not a stray dog, Buck – don’t talk about yourself like that,” Eddie always hated the way Buck was so easily cruel to himself, dismissing his own feelings, making a joke out of the ways he was hurting. Buck never treated himself with the same kind of love, and kindness he treated everyone around him with, and he deserved that – to be treated with love, and kindness. 

“I am, a bit,” Buck hummed. “But it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find a good owner one day,” he joked, and oh, if Eddie didn’t want to beg for that to be him, for Buck to make his life with Eddie, to stay forever, here, in their perfect home on South Bedford Street. 

But he couldn’t – he couldn’t say all of that, and ask Buck to wait, not when Eddie needed to leave, he needed to get his son back. It wouldn’t be fair to Buck. Buck deserved better – he deserved more. He deserved better than Eddie, who was too scared to admit how he really felt, who was too afraid to ask for more than what he had. 

Eddie didn’t deserve Buck, but Buck was still the one coming home with Eddie – to a house that had become theirs, over the years, in every way except on paper – and now even that was solved, Buck’s chicken scratch signature on a sub-lease contract, a promise that the home that had given Eddie so much was in safe hands. The safest hands he knew – Evan Buckley’s. 

“I have to be with Christopher,” Eddie said, helpless. He had to be with his son. He’d missed out on so much of Christopher’s life already, he didn’t want to miss out on even more – even if that meant going back to El Paso, the one place he’d vowed he was never, ever going to willingly move back to. 

“I know,” Buck said, slumping slightly, so he could rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder, the kind of easy affection Buck so freely gave – with everyone, but with Eddie, most of all. “You’re doing the right thing, Eds. You’re a really good dad.” 

And a terrible best friend. 

“I’m going to come back,” Eddie sounded determined, even to his own ears. “I am, Buck. I want to come back to LA, with Christopher.”

Buck made an agreeable noise. “That’d be nice.”

Eddie knew Buck didn’t entirely believe him – and he couldn’t entirely blame him for that, either. Buck had been left behind so many times in his life, of course this just felt like it was happening all over again, with Eddie doing the leaving this time. 

Leaning his head against Buck’s, Eddie let himself sink into the couch, the combination of alcohol and pure tiredness making his eyes heavy. He almost wanted to force himself to stay awake, to soak in every second he had left with Buck like this, but tiredness was winning out over his own stubbornness – like it was for Buck, if his best friend’s slow, easy breathing was anything to go by. 

Slowly, selfishly, Eddie allowed himself to curl into Buck’s side, Buck a study, safe presence beside him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Buck,” he admitted, Buck’s soft snores the only reply he got – and well, maybe that was for the best, because he wasn’t sure even Evan Buckley had the answers, this time.