#hen and chimney going 'someone should stop them' 'these two or those two?'

[eddiesilverstar]

oh okay, so you’re telling me that eddie joined an illegal fight club... because he couldn’t talk to buck???? he couldn’t see him, he couldn’t reach out to him, he couldn't talk to him about chris and everything he was going through…. he couldn’t even call him to bail him out of jail!! so eddie joined a fight club… because he was angry, because he was prevented to interact with his pal, his buddy, his buck…. and you mean to tell me these two aren't a thing??? okay

[quintessenceofdust88]

Gabby I am having a really rough couple days can I please have some 🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼 to cheer me up? 🥺🥺

Thank you!! 🩷🩷🩷

Hiii Liz! I'm so sorry you're having some rough days, darling 🫂🫂 I hope these blob sentences cheer you up, I made sure it's an extra soft found family moment! I'm always here if you need me, bby ♥

- 🍼 (cont. from here)

The teams, then, were divided; Karen, Maddie, Eddie and Athena taking over their girl’s nursery, while Tommy, Hen, Chim and Bobby are doing the boy’s. Tommy’s not sure if they’re doing any better than the other team at this point, but what he does know is that being there with his old 118 crew gives him an unexpected sense of nostalgia. 

As he watches Chim wave the crib manual at Hen, who’s insisting they can just wing it on their own, and at Bobby who says they’ll do better following it to the letter, Tommy can’t help a small smile. If someone told him all those years ago that these people would be at his home, helping him prepare a nursery for the baby he and his husband are having, Tommy would probably call them crazy (and have a small panic attack because oh god someone knew). 

And yet here they are. Bobby holding two screws in his hand and insisting that step one determines they sort the screws by number, Hen telling him that sorting screws by numbers is for losers, and Chimney already trying to join two pieces together even though they don’t even know if those are the right ones. They’re here, at his house, helping Tommy prepare a nursery for his son. And more amazingly yet is the way all of a sudden the three of them stop to look at him, and Tommy feels like he belongs. They never make him feel like he’s just Evan’s plus one, and that always makes Tommy feel good. 

“Well, Kinard? You’re helping or what?” Hen asks, raising an eyebrow. “Should we tell your son that his Papa just stood around while we did all the dirty work?”

“You’re gonna tell him that anyway” Tommy points out. 

“You’re not wrong”, Hen admits, and Bobby and Chim chuckle. 

“C’mon, Tommy, my grandson’s crib will not build itself and I don’t want to give Athena gloating power if their team wins.” Bobby begs, and Tommy does come closer, joining their discussion about how they should go about it. 

And while he does, that warmth in his heart just keeps growing, because yeah. These people were always family, he just needed eight years and one wonderful Evan Buckley to realize.

--

there you go darling, I hope you like it! Ily ♥

[redrosydiaz]

okay so it wouldn't be like a DIRECT au of it, just like a heavily inspired by, but BUDDIE TWISTER/TWISTERS AU:

so. buck is a storm chaser. he's got his team, him and a few others, and then abby, his girlfriend. they're working on trying to find a way to tame a twister — to get it to stop before it can start enough to do it's damage. they think they've finally got it, only when they go to put it into test there is a horrible accident and buck loses the whole team, except abby. the two of them are the only survivors. and it is DEVASTATING, but buck is like at least abby and i can lean on each other in our grief, we can get through this together. only abby quits. she quits stormchasing then and there and she leaves, just disappears, leaving buck alone with his grief. (if we want to be Extra Angsty, perhaps she even leaves with some sort of comment that implies she blames him for what happened).

so buck quits too — only it's not a permanent quit, of course. his sisters boyfriend, chimney, is a stormchaser, and when bucks home visiting maddie one day, chimney is there and he's talking about his teams plan (maybe his team was also after the same sort of twister tamer thing — maybe even based off of bucks teams initial research) and he's asking buck about it and buck hasn't thought about this stuff in a while (lies; he's thought about that incident every day since it happened.) but like enough time has passed that talking about it with someone else who's enthusiastic about the research rather than just interested in the tragedy of it all, starts to excite him a little too. and chimney tells him he should come with, when he and his team head out in a week. and after some Thinking and some encouragement from maddie, buck agrees and goes with chimney.

and so buck joins the 118 — consisting of chimney and hen and bobby (and maybe ravi too bc i love ravi okay). and it's good. they're a great team, brilliant, and they're all about helping people too. like, yes, their research is important to them, and they're fighting tooth and nail to achieve their goal, but they're put that on pause if there's even a chance for them to go help people evacuate or find shelter or clean up in the aftermath — and that's something buck really loves about the team. bc that's all he wants to do, help people. so buck fits right in with them and it's. it's fun, again. he did miss this.

and, of course, the 118 has a riiiiiival team — another group of stormchasers who are ALSO trying to find a way to stop the twisters before they can do their damage. they're both close, so it's kind of like a competition between them, which team will capture success first? but this team (not really sure who it'll consist of yet) but im undecided on if eddie would be the leader of the group or if he's just a team member, but. eddie dia,z with his sweeeeet texan twang, and his big cowboy hat and his flashy belt buckles and his charm, he's there. and their team is popular in the stormchasing world, and everyone's eyes are on them too.

but like it's always those two — the 118 and eddies team — at the forefront of it all, they're always chasing the same storms.

and both teams are on the cusp of a big storm, but the 118 catch wind that there's a small town in the path of this one, and they decide instead of following the twisters they're going to head to the town to help the people there. and they end up veering off the path and eddie notices and then HE finds out about the town and he tells his team they need to go help too but his team is like dude NO we gotta get to the twister, the 118 are gone so this is our chance to be the ones to test our tornado tamer solution, WE could beat them. and like eddies team has clearly lost the whole point of all of this — to save people. but HE hasn't, so he goes rogue and he heads to the town instead, where he finds the 118 and they're a bit wary of him at first bc it feels out of character for someone from his team to be here doing this rather than chasing the storm, but at this point im thinking buck and eddie have already had some conversations (MAYBE eddie has actually saved buck once already too so like that trust between them is already built) and buck just immediately starts shouting instructions and eddie falls into line with them and the two of them work flawlessly together and the rest of the 118 is like yeah okay he's good people and they welcome him in too.

and maybe eddies team runs into trouble too and eddie catches wind of it (he's still connected to their radios maybe?) and he's like fuck we gotta help them too so he and buck break off to go help that team (bc even if they're the 118's rivals and even if they're on the verge of the breakthrough the 118 has been chasing too, that doesn't matter rn. what matters is saving as many lives as possible) so the two of them break off to go help and they DO but eddies teams solution DOESNT work, but they took the 118's truck that was loaded with THEIR solution so buck and eddie let that loose and THAT DOES end up working and so buck and eddie save eddies team AND the town AND each other.

and, OF COURSE, through all of that buck and eddie fall in love, and in the end eddie ends up joining buck's team, and they chase storms together, and when they have bad days, when they have close calls, they're there for each other and they're not going anywhere, and they ALWAYS have each other's backs <3

[fears-and-feels]

Whumpril Day 30: "I'm/You're not going anywhere."

Fandom: 9-1-1 (Sequel to Day 29)

Pairing: Buck and Eddie

Summary: Buck gets a fever and Eddie has to assure him that he's not going anywhere.

(These are supposed to be a part of Whumpril, but I got ahead of myself and wanted to post them now ❤️ I'll reblog on the corresponding days next month ❤️ What happens in this fic is different than what happens in the show ❤️ :))

It had been a few days since the blonde had helped rescue Eddie from the cabin of the disgruntled Dad. Once the two got out, they had been taken to the hospital then sent back to LA for rest.

Eddie had to call his parents to tell Christopher he would be a few days late. When the teen pushed with questions, Eddie then had to break the news of what had happened.

Buck had been there for the entire call.

Eddie had to have surgery. Several ribs were badly fractured and the doctors wanted to make sure he hadn't punctured his lungs nor was he having any internal bleeding.

Buck had been there in the room when he'd woken up.

Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight. The doctors wanted to monitor him and make sure nothing progressed.

Even with the starts of a mild fever, Buck had camped out in one of those hard plastic chairs all night long.

When Eddie had finally been released, Buck had made sure he'd gotten taken back to his LA home and recovered his lost U-Haul. By then, the fever had gotten much worse, but Buck hadn't brought it up. He kept pushing everything down to make sure Eddie was okay.

Eddie had to be okay. He had to get Christopher. Buck could take care of himself later.

But now all that work was coming to a halt when his fever spiked.

Hen and Chimney had practically wrangled him into bed so he could rest. On the hopes the blonde actually listened, they'd hung threats of handcuffing his good arm in the air if he didn't listen.

With a huff and a pout, Buck stayed in bed and eventually fell asleep.

When he awoke, he had no idea where he was.

Buck had only been living in Eddie's house for roughly a few days. He was still adjusting to waking up there every day and not in the loft.

A layer of shadows crept in during the late night hour, making the space even more unfamiliar to his feverish mind.

The blonde crept downstairs. Again, nothing down here looked like the loft. Nothing looked familiar.

Then he bumped into something.

Buck placed a hand on the couch back to steady himself. Something about it triggered a memory in his mind.

"Buck, you hear from Eddie?"

"No. Should I?"

"No one's heard from him all day."

"He probably just caught up with something. Here, let me call him."

But Eddie hadn't picked up the call. Or the one after that. Or even the third. On the fourth missed call, Buck knew something was off.

He had gone somewhere after that? Hadn't he?

The blonde sluggishly moved toward the kitchen in the hopes of triggering another memory. Something that could tell him where he'd gone or maybe even where he was.

His feet felt the shift from hard wood to cool tile, but his brain took a minute to catch up.

By the time he stopped, Buck was mere inches from the dining table.

"Anything?"

"Still nothing Chimney."

"Police are out searching now. They'll find him."

"I hope so."

Eddie. He had to find Eddie.

Hadn't he snuck out after that call? Gone off in search of something?

Fever ridden blue eyes traveled across the table and up to the back door.

He saw himself snagging his keys off the dining table.

Him shoving them into his jacket pocket.

Him quitely stepping out the back door because someone else was in the living room.

Who had he been trying to avoid? And why? Had they been trying to stop him for some reason?

The same bleary eyes scanned the kitchen area before landing on an empty kitchen chair that had been left out.

The cabin.

The smell of dry grass around him as he wound his way closer.

The sounds of near death like quiet as he reached for the handle.

The air whooshing out of his lungs when he saw the strange figure making his way toward Eddie's beaten form with a crowbar.

Eddie was in danger.

Buck raced back into the living room. "I have to go find him."

"You're not going anywhere."

The blonde immediately froze. He knew who that was standing by the door. He'd seen him before.

The figure set down what he was holding. "Buck, it's me. It's Chim."

"Eddie."

"Eddie's okay. He was just getting checked out by the doctors to see how he was healing."

"Where is he?"

"He's just outside."

Outside. He needed to get outside.

Chimney must have seen it in his face because he moved closer to the front door. "Don't run. He'll be in here in a moment."

The back door.

"Just take a breath and sit---."

Buck turned and bolted.

He heard Chimney calling out after him then shouting to whoever was outside. But Buck didn't stop.

Eddie was outside. He had to find Eddie.

He wrenched the back door open so fast it rattled whatever was hanging on the walls.

He ran as fast as he could into the backyard and around the side of the house.

He heard several voices calling his name.

One of them sounded familiar.

The blonde froze. "Eddie?"

"Buck!"

Buck ran toward the voice. "Eddie."

"Buck!"

Buck's bleary eyes frantically looked around.

He heard Eddie talking to someone else before his voice called out to him again. "Buck!"

That's when the blonde found him supporting himself against the side of a car.

"Over here!"

A wave of relief crashed over Buck as he raced toward the ex-Army medic. "Eddie!"

A second later, Buck had the brown haired firefighter snagged in a one arm hug. Then he immediately broke into sobs.

For a few seconds, Eddie just stood there. Finally, he found got his one good arm up in a return hug. "Hey . . . You okay?"

Buck shook his head.

"What happened?"

"I lost you."

"You didn't lose me Cowboy." Eddie's fingers brushed up against his forehead.

Buck jerked his head into the crook of the brown haired man's neck.

Eddie stayed quiet for a minute, switching to rubbing the blonde's back. He then spoke to someone next to them.

"He's burning up Cap."

A new set of fingers gently pressed into his forehead.

Buck jumped away.

Eddie's hand grabbed his good arm. "Wow wow wow, it's okay. It's Bobby."

Bleary blue eyes found the captain's concerned brown ones.

"You alright in there?" asked Bobby.

Buck didn't respond.

The older fire captain hesitantly reached forward. "I need you to come sit down."

The blonde yanked himself away from his hand.

Bobby immediately held it up. "It's okay. It's okay."

Buck scrubbed at his eye with the heel of his shaking palm. Breathing was becoming very difficult right now.

"You can stay with Eddie, but I need you to come sit down."

Why did he need to sit down?

Buck's body involuntarily sank to a sitting position on the ground.

Oh yeah. That's probably why.

Several faces moved in around him. Way too close for his liking.

Then one of them grabbed his good arm.

"No." Buck tried to fight them off. "Get off!"

"Buck, it's Hen." The hand returned. "We need to---."

Buck kept fighting. "No!"

"He's out of it." Another set of hands helped Hen. "Freaked out inside too."

The blonde swung a right hook in that direction, crying out in pain.

"Buck, stop." A third set of hands grabbed his shoulders. "You're going to hurt yourself even more."

"No!"

"Alright, everyone back up!"

A moment later, all the faces pulled back. Then Eddie disappeared.

"Eddie?" called Buck.

The brown haired man stuck his head out of the backseat of the car. "Buck, come on. We need to get in here."

Shakily, the blonde pulled himself up to his feet.

Eddie carefully slid along the backseat, making room for Buck to get in.

A moment later, the door shut trapping them inside.

It was dark in the car. Very little light shone in from the moon and the various street lights outside.

Buck scooted as close as he could to Eddie, ready to protect him if any of those faces came back.

He wasn't loosing him again.

"It's okay." Eddie's fingers squeezed his shoulder. "It's Bobby car."

"Bobby?" Buck's eyes furrowed together. "When did he get here?"

". . . Where are we right now?"

Bleary blue eyes darted around. "I don't know . . . All I know is that guy could be back soon."

"That deranged guy with the crowbar?"

"Yeah."

"Buck, look at me."

The blonde shook his head. He had to stay vigilant in the bumpy car.

The blonde's vision moved down. Wait, why was it bumpy?

He jumped at a sudden turn.

"It's okay." Eddie gently squeezed again. "We're just taking a drive with Bobby."

Buck relaxed a tiny bit when he realized they weren't in any immediate danger, but that was as far as he got.

"Look at me for a second."

Reluctantly, Buck peeled his eyes away from the seat and turned to look at Eddie.

Two warm brown eyes found his anxious blue ones.

Four fingers gently squeezed his shoulder.

One long thumb calmly came up to rest on his pulse point.

"Listen, that guy is gone."

Buck stayed quiet.

"He's in police custody. Once his side is healed up enough, they're going to put him behind bars. He won't be able to hurt me or you anymore."

Buck's bleary eyes drifted to his hands.

He heard Eddie begging behind him.

He felt his fingers grip a sharp piece of wood.

He felt himself roll.

He felt the piece of wood sink into flesh.

"I stabbed him."

"You did. You saved us."

"I would have been fine. Could have gotten out of here eventually."

"No ties here. Everything that matters is in Texas."

El Paso.

Buck shrugged out of the hold.

"What's wrong?"

"Christopher."

"He's in El Paso."

Eddie had been driving to El Paso the day he had been captured. His U-Haul was sitting outside the house.

The blonde clumsily scrambled for the handle. "You have to go."

"Go where?"

Buck finally secured the handle, but it wouldn't open. "El Paso."

"Wow there Cowboy." Eddie's fingers pulled his arm away the door. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But Christopher---."

"Will have to wait until I'm cleared by the doctors."

The word doctor immediately pulled Eddie's injuries into focus.

His face was covered in bruises.

His lip was badly split.

His left arm and right leg were wrapped in casts.

His movements made his face wince as they tugged on his ribs.

Buck looked down at his own right arm covered in plaster and a sling. He could feel his pulse painfully pounding on his own ribs now too. And the sore goose egg on the back of his head.

"I can't go anywhere right now."

The blonde deflated. "But you still have to go."

". . . I don't know."

Buck's attention immediately snapped back up.

Eddie sighed. "I was lying to myself just as much as I was lying to those renters. I do have ties here in LA."

"But Christopher's---."

"In El Paso. I know." The dark haired man turned his full attention back to Buck. "But the 118 is here. And so are you."

"I'm not a part of the 118?"

"You are, but you're also so much more." Eddie squeezed his bicep. "And despite what you might think or if you'll even remember this, it does matter what you feel about this whole thing. So you gotta be honest with me."

"Christopher needs you more than me."

Eddie shook his head. "He's a tough kid. He doesn't need me."

"I would have been fine. Could have gotten out of here eventually."

"Guess both of you have something in common," Buck mumbled while pulling his arm away.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Both of you don't need anyone. You'll be fine all on your own."

Eddie glanced up at the driver's seat then back at the blonde. "I do need you Buck."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is."

"Christopher needs you."

"He's growing up Buck. He's thriving all on his own."

"Which is why you need to be there."

". . . I don't know anymore."

Buck crushed any hope he had before anyone else could do it for him. There was a big part of him that wished the ex-Army medic would stay here in LA. But deep down, the blonde knew he would always regret it if he never went.

He'd always regret missing more of those special moments in his son's life.

So he pushed the brown haired man's arm away. "You need to go Eddie."

"I don't need to."

"But you want to."

Eddie glared. "What do you know about what I want?"

"Because I know you, and I know how much that kid brings you joy."

The brown haired firefighter went quiet.

"Eddie . . ."

The brown haired man finally looked back up. "What?"

Buck couldn't get his next words out. It was like something in his brain disconnected and he couldn't get it back online. All he could do was stare.

"Doesn't matter right now." Eddie reached for the handle of the now still car. "Your fever ridden brain doesn't even know what it's saying."

Buck snagged the brown haired firefighter's shirt. A shot of anxiety raced through him and his limbs felt funny.

"Let go Buck."

Buck's hand jerked and Eddie's shirt slipped through his fingers.

Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave.

The rest of the blonde's muscles immediately went stiff and jerked. An odd feeling of déja vu crept up his stiffened spine.

Had he felt like this before?

"Buck?"

I can't answer. Why can't I answer?

Buck heard a shout in the distance, but everything now sounded like it was underwater.

A vice like grip landed on his elbow, yanking the blonde close enough for the figure to pin him in place via a bear hug.

Buck's brain couldn't process what was being screamed at him. He could hear it, even as darkness started creeping in, but not respond.

He also understood enough that that voice wasn't Eddie's. It wasn't familiar to him at all.

Where was Eddie? Hadn't he'd been right there? Had he really changed his mind about El Paso?

Why was it suddenly so hard to think? Why was his body so stiff?

He felt the grip tighten. That didn't feel like Eddie. That didn't feel like anyone he knew.

Another shot of anxiety. The man must have found them. He got Eddie again.

Sure enough, Buck was strapped down. He desperately tried to get his body to respond to anything, but it was still not working.

Buck felt his body being moved and he finally managed to croak out, "Eddie."

But there was no response from the dark haired firefighter.

Slowly but surely the darkness overtook the blonde's vision until it finally won leaving him with one thought.

Eddie's gone.

[cfdbuckley]

Hiding a wince when Eddie said he'd gotten lucky with Shannon, Buck didn't quite know where the reaction came from but he did know it wasn't one he should outwardly have. He wasn't jealous of Eddie, necessarily... or was he? Did he wish he'd found someone young and was still with them? And had a kid? The fact that Buck never imagined those things for himself, since he still practically felt like a kid up until Abby made him think not, but then why did it bother him that Eddie said it?

The thought prickled in his brain, and he thought he caught a glimmer of it, "what if you were meant for somebody else, Eddie?" but it was quickly dashed away and he set to thinking about the question posed to him. (Un)fortunately for him, he didn't have to come up with an answer, since the other two were still more than willing to jump in for her.

"No chance. She quit her reliable job, packed up everything of importance to her, and went to Eat, Pray, Love in Europe? With a bunch of hot, cultured guys with accents? Sure, Buck is plenty special to us, but considering she only asked him out after she saw him and those baby blues on the television? She just needed him to reawaken her libido before-"

"Chim." Hen's voice was somehow gentle but firm, as even she saw he was going too far. Sure, neither of them liked Abby very much for hurting Buck, but bashing her to that extent wasn't supposed to happen around Buck. Clearly Chimney had gotten so focused on telling it to Eddie that he had let the very real fact that Buck was right there slip right out of his mind.

Buck was holding his mug like he was one Herculean squeeze from cracking the ceramic in his hands, eyes focused far off on the rafters. He took a big swig of coffee, which he then clearly regretted by the look of pain on his face as it burned down his throat and set the coffee down. "Gonna see if Cap has that chore list done yet." He said as he hopped to his feet and moved like only someone with his long of legs could to the stairs and down, not looking back when both Chimney and Hen sent slightly out of sync but still matching toned "Buck!"s after him. Hen turned her head to give a disappointed, withering look at Chimney who weakly shrugged. "It's been months. He needs to stop acting like she was his one shot at love."

Seeing Hen and Chim's reactions to the start of the conversation had Eddie intrigued but also a bit scared. However, he gladly accepted the cup of coffee and gave a brief nod of thanks in Chimney's direction. Eddie didn't think that he'd need the boost of energy to hear Buck's story, but he would need it if he was going to talk about himself.

Even though he was still forming his opinions about the rest of the members of the firehouse, and he knew that they were still forming an opinion about him too, Eddie already felt comfortable around them to open up a bit when Buck began to ask about his personal life, but the warm cup in his hands helped out some as well. "Yeah... we were both originally switches, but I was already thinking about enlisting and she was already pregnant, so it just made sense for me to take the Dominant role."

Listening to Buck's story was hard, just like Hen and Chim warned him it would be, but not for the reasons that they implied. While he was somewhat annoyed at the two of them for how they kept interrupting Buck while he talked, but he quickly began to think that they were doing it for a very specific reason.

They had to watch Buck go through all this first-hand, so it made sense that they would try to distract Buck with their brand of humor. Hen's words though, about being too young to really know who you should spend the rest of your life with and what role you'd take went right to Eddie's core. Of course there was no reason to try and dwell on it since it was too late for him, but at least Buck still had a chance.

"Well shit... that had to be rough to be that close to a claim for it to fall apart like that. Sorry you had to go through all of that, but like Hen said, just means it wasn't meant to be, but are you for sure she's not coming back and expecting to just pick things up? And yeah, I've been with Shannon since I was 16, so I guess I just got lucky and things for out."

If there was one thing Eddie knew for damn sure is that he wasn't lucky and that things haven't been working for a while, but he's always been a fighter. If he had to fight to keep his family together, than that's what he was going to do.

[littlespoonevan]

Hey do you have any buddie fic recs?

i sure do!!! there have been so many incredible fics posted recently that i'm still trying to work my way through them but here are a few that i've read in the past two weeks that i've absolutely adored:

cause i'm tired of sleeping alone by rarakiplin (gmontys) (@hoediaz)

Buck goes on dates now.

Not often, and never with the same girl twice in a row, but he goes on dates.

And the thing is — the thing is, Eddie can’t be mad about that, because he goes on dates too.

-

or, five (ish) times eddie and buck go on dates with other people, and one time they go on a date with each other

never want for more when you're near by @hattalove

And Buck had, honestly, just about kept it together through the drive and the wait before Chim opened the door and this particular bout of nausea. He doesn’t have it in him to hold it in anymore, has to tell someone, so he takes a painful breath and says:

“I slept with Eddie.”

Chimney brightens. “Oh, con—“ he stops himself when Buck whines. “Not congrats?”

in which buck gets drunk and sleeps with eddie. except does he?

as easy as defusing a bomb by iriswests  (@evanbucxley)

His Google search history leading up to Hen and Karen’s vow renewal looks like this:

How to stop being attracted to your best friend Why am I attracted to my best friend Why am I attracted to my best friend + man Why are arms so attractive on men How to make my house carry-proof How do I tell my best friend to keep his shirt on Why does my best friend keep yawning Yawning remedies Dry lip remedies Slip-resistant dish gloves Slip-resistant dish gloves floral pattern

And then he just spent the next hour finding and ordering stupid dish gloves for Buck, because Google, it turns out, does not always have the answer, and leaves Eddie with more questions than before (like: does Buck have sleep apnea, actually, and if so, should he be seeing someone for it?).

--

or; buck moves in with eddie while taylor finds a new place, and prompts what feels like puberty 2.0 for eddie diaz.

Blame It On the Alcohol/Halloween Candy/Mistletoe/Etc. by @hmslusitania

Eddie doesn’t consider the repercussions of his actions until two weeks later. It’s Sunday, and Christopher had spent the previous day working on a school project at Ava’s house, and now over their pancakes, Christopher is just…staring at him. “What?” Eddie asks, reaching over to ruffle Christopher’s curls. “Not enough blueberries?” “Did you kiss Buck?” Christopher asks. Eddie freezes and he’s pretty sure he sounds like he’s being strangled when he asks, “Did I what?”

OR

Five times Buck and Eddie kiss for perfectly platonic reasons and One time it's none of those things (Spoiler alert: It is never any of those things)

All Tomorrows Come From Yesterdays by allisonRW96 (@homerforsure)

“I want that,” he says quietly. “I want that so bad it hurts sometimes. And I don’t think I’m ever gonna have it.”

In the aftermath of a breakup, Buck attends a wedding.

Patch by @wilddragonflying

Change a few things, and what if it wasn't Hen and Chim Jonah captured?

What if it was Buck and Eddie?

said i couldn't stay, but it's different now by @hattalove

“I think,” he says, watching Karen pull Hen out onto the dance floor, their eyes never leaving each other’s, “I think I’m just—sad.”

Maybe. That feels like a close enough word to describe this gaping maw right in the center of his chest. It’s only really there sometimes, taking little bites out of him, easy enough to ignore, but today is worse.

“About being single at a wedding,” Eddie says, not a question.

Buck shrugs. “Sounds stupid when you put it that way.”

or, the one with the four weddings (feat. a drunk karen wilson, shania twain, a single cheerio, and some confessions over cubed fruit).

baby, we can make it (if we're heart to heart) by lecornergirl (@clusterbuck)

“I lied,” he says, the words coming out ragged. “Earlier.”

“What did you lie about?” Buck asks. His tone is mild, edged with curiosity. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

For the space of a heartbeat, Eddie considers changing course. Considers backing out. Considers making up something inconsequential. But the lump in his throat has a mind of its own, and the words come out anyway.

“When I said I’m not in love with you.”

with my heart pounding (down that broken path) by farfromthstars (@buckactuallys)

And it’s been less than an hour since they arrived, and over a year since he last saw his son and grandson in person, but already Ramon feels like he keeps saying the wrong things around Eddie. He doesn’t mean to, but Eddie already seems angry at him, seems angry at him most of the time, and he’s just not sure why. It’s in the way he looks at him sometimes, his snippy comments, and painfully obvious in the way he’s so different with other people, especially Christopher, his abuela and his aunt. Ramon knows that the four of them have spent a lot of time together since Eddie moved Chris and himself to LA, but it still hurts a little that his own son is this close with his mother and sister when it feels like he can’t even talk to Ramon past superficial small talk.

~

Eddie's visit through his father's eyes.

we've got tonight (who needs tomorrow) by rarakiplin (gmontys) (@hoediaz)

Buck nods, rolling his glass gently between his palms. “Do you think you’ll ever have that? What Hen and Karen have?”

“You asked me that once before, you know,” Eddie says, and maybe he hasn’t fully grown out of deflection. Buck’s head turns toward him, a small little smile that means he remembers. “I said I hope so.”

“Has your answer changed?”

“Has yours?”

A scoff, Buck’s gaze tearing away from Eddie’s to return to his glass, where his fingers tap uselessly against the side. “I guess I’m not sure I’m built for this kind of love. The epic, all-consuming kind, I mean. Maybe I just have to be okay with — something I can live with, you know?”

-

or, eddie and buck sleep together at a wedding, but it's a little more than that

when i die alone (i'll be on time) by catching_paper_moons

“You good?” Lucy asks. Buck swallows, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“Yeah.” His voice cracks on the word. “Yeah, I’m off shift in 30, so.” He sends her a smile. “I’m good.”

Lucy frowns and takes a seat next to him. “You seem a little…” She trails off, waving her hands in front of his face. “You know.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, blinking. “Uh-huh.”

“Down.” She turns to face him. “You gonna go see your boys after this?”

(or 5 times buck has a talk about life with everyone but the person he should talk about life with, and one time he finally does)

you can also find all of my bookmarks here! i only ever bookmark fics if i want to reread them or recommend them so there are plenty of other gems here 💖

[some-little-infamy]

stubborn, even in death

(a 6x10 coda based on the 6x11 sneak peek) (Read on AO3) During the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, all Eddie felt was the distance between him and Buck. It was a matter of feet but it felt like there were oceans between them, nothing but a void of space that muffles the sounds of Hen and Chimney in the back. Even Bobby’s voice speaking from the seat next to him is muffled by Eddie’s racing pulse thumping in his ears, echoing inside his head.

Echoing a heartbeat that Buck doesn’t have.

Eddie barely gets the ambulance into park before the driver’s-side door is open and his legs swing out and onto the pavement below. He barely registers the action, moving on auto-pilot until his eyes land on Buck as they wheel him out of the back.

Buck.

Evan Buckley, silent and still: two things Eddie never would’ve associated with the man before now.

“Chim, I’ll take over.”

Eddie does his best to keep his voice even, pushing down the panic and desperation he feels throughout every square inch of his being. If he seems too emotional, or too unstable, they won’t let him close. Bobby made that much clear when he told Eddie to drive.

The time spent driving was enough to calm him, but now Eddie needs to be closer. He needs to help.

He needs to save Buck.

It’s different, somehow, with his hands on Buck’s chest. Everything feels that much more real, and Eddie isn’t sure if that’s good or bad just yet. Buck’s chest remains defiantly still, refusing to rise or fall.

Evan Buckley: stubborn, even in death.

No.

The thought chokes Eddie, cutting off his air, his own breathing tight and strained as he tries to pump life back into Buck’s heart and push air back into his lung. Eddie closes his eyes, willing the nearly deafening thrum of his own pulse into Buck through his hands, the press of palm to chest, praying---

“We got a pulse!”

Eddie could collapse right then and there with the relief those four simple words bring.

A pulse.

Life.

Not death.

Buck isn’t dead.

Eddie hadn’t realized how much he was subconsciously preparing himself for that possible reality - one where he had to explain to Christopher that Buck wouldn’t be coming over any more, one where he went with Bobby to break the news to Maddie and Buck’s parents who are in town to visit.

One where Eddie loses every chance he convinced himself he’d have in the future to be honest with Buck about his feelings.

But just when hope begins to flood through Eddie again he’s reminded of the severity of the situation by the words of those around him. Bobby tells the nurses about Buck’s medical history and allergies and the nurse promises them that they’re going to do their best. It’s the promise of someone who knows there are no guarantees, not when it comes to an injury like this.

Their best isn’t enough. It should be Eddie in there with them, following through the doors all firefighters know they have to stop and leave their patients at. Except this isn’t just another drop-off for them to walk away from.

This is Buck.

This is family.

“Do more!” Eddie shouts, feeling helpless and frustrated as he watches Buck disappear around a corner.

The silence that follows his broken yell is more deafening than anything Eddie’s ever heard.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

[creativeashproductions]

Streetdogs and Chest Compressions // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Reader reconnected with her estranged younger brother in the cruelest of ways as the 118 is called the scene of three young men suffering after eating streetdogs. Unfortunately, this is how Buck meets the future brother in law he had no clue even existed.

Warnings: Swearing, family problems (aka estranged), withholding personal information, angst, medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 4.7k

A/N: This fic is a crossover between Julie and the Phantoms and 9-1-1 in which Luke, Reggie and Alex eat the streetdogs in modern times. Don’t worry, someone still dies. Reader’s nickname is Spitfire 

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It seemed Los Angeles was taking pity on the 118 with not even a single fire to be put out or medical needed. It was slow. Painfully slow, and you weren't even halfway through the twenty-four-hour shift. Hen and Chimney had taken the circular table for a card game, Bobby was reading a new cookbook. Eddie's Abuela had brought Christopher to the firehouse for his online schooling, the Diaz's wifi was malfunctioning. Buck and you had snuck off the bunk room to catch some sleep.

"Lazy movie day?" Buck asked with his arms tightly wound around your hips. Your form almost rested entirely on his front due to the narrow bunk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You replied to the content man underneath you. You could only hum as he shifted to kiss the top of your head, "Now shh. I want to slee-"

The bell sounded before you could even finish your sentence, "And what I didn't want to happen just had to spite me."

Buck and you hurried to quickly pull on your turnout gear before hopping into the respective seats you used. Eddie across from you, Buck driving with Bobby in the Captain seat. Hen and Chimney in the ambulance tailing you.

"We have three males in their late teens. Ate hotdogs in an alley before collapsing in the process." Bobby informed his team all the while he watched the road, "One is profusely puking, one's unconscious, and the last one is stable."

"Thinking it's food poisoning? That sudden?" Buck inquired with a swift glance from his position of driving. Bobby shrugged in response just as Buck eased the fire truck to a half near a crowded alley.

You were the first one out of the firetruck with your medical bag and halfway to the alley before the team could get out.

"Make some room!" You shouted among the heavily populated area, curious about the medical emergency.

Everything slowed down as you pushed between the last two people into something you called your worst nightmare. Three teenage individuals settled on their sides in unconscious states had been a fixture in your youth. Your eyes stayed pinned on the prone figure of your little brother.

It was like being underwater. Nothing could be heard, and it felt like you were in the process of drowning. It was the first time seeing Luke since you stormed out of your family home back when you were eighteen years old.

It was the same old unchanging story playing for months now with only the new addition of an audience. It was the middle of a blistering summer in Los Angeles, but it was the most heated in the Patterson household. You'd been at the movies with your best friends while your mother, Emily, was putting your laundry away.

Emily's hand had bumped your dresser by accident in her process of closing your socks drawer. The Patterson matriarch and her husband would never invade their children's rooms, but her keen eye had noticed the pamphlet; nothing serious like teen pregnancy but it was surprising.

Emily was holding a recruitment pamphlet for the Los Angeles Fire Department marked with your handwriting. Her heart dropped in sync with the front door slamming shut.

"I'm home!" You called out from the entrance. You didn't hear as your mother wandered into the open space. Her eyes flaring in both anger and fear; when a person is scared, they lash out.

That's what Emily did.

"What is this?"

Your eyes found the item in her hand that genuinely made your blood freeze in your veins. This was not how you'd wanted her to find out about your career decision.

"I'm applying. I graduated high school, and hopefully, I'll be train-"

"Like hell, you will! You're going to college and getting a real job! This won't take you anywhere Y/N Y/M/N Patterson!" Emily snapped just as Mitch came through the back door with your ten-year-old brother Luke.

"What's going on?" Mitch questioned as soon as he felt the tension between mother and daughter. Luke was quiet amongst the adults speaking.

"Your daughter isn't going to college. She's going to be a firefighter.

"Spitfire?"

A smooth hand startled you with the clap on your shoulder and Hen looking at you, "Are you okay?"

"I-" You shakily attempted to speak but alas had to be gently settled on the ground before you keeled over and hurt yourself. Your uniform, long sleeves this time, felt constricting as the guilt nearly swallowed you whole.

"Hey, Cap? I think I know why those three are like that." Buck called out from a sketchy grill by an even sketchier condiments table. The table being a rusted Oldsmobile manned by a greasy dude and his girl.

Even from a distance, you could smell the chemicals wafting off the unsanitary set up that would put a health inspector in a casket. 

"One's waking up!" Chimney spoke from the slump of pink and denim fabric. A curtain of blonde '90s style hair mussed on his head.

"Look, Y/N, I need you to dig deep to help these three boys. They have long lives ahead of them and need our A-game." Hen spoke with her hands, already checking one of the teens for broken bones.

Your eyes closed with a deep breath before you moved towards the boy on the other side. Eddie shifted to allow you room to check him over.

"Strong pulse. Breathing is good." You clinically informed your team, "Eddie can-"

"What happened?" The gruff voice spoke from behind you. As expected, Alex's voice had deepened in the years you'd gone without seeing Luke or his friends.

"You got this one?" You asked Eddie without waiting for a response; you were by Chim's side with a soft smile. Alex's eyes widened momentarily, "Hey Alex."

"Y/N?" Alex nearly gasped in shock. His shock seemed contagious as your entire team from the 118 caught it, "What's going on?"

"You ate some bad hotdogs and needed our help. We're gonna get you to the hospital. I'm worried you ingested battery acid." You spoke, understanding that Alex would prefer details instead of the lack thereof. Even from an early age, he'd been anxious.

"Oh. Are the guys okay?" Alex softly asked with his eye blinking as a strand of his blonde hair caught in his eyelashes. You slowly nodded in response without really knowing the status of Reggie and Luke.

"Eddie, Buck, can you get him loaded in the ambulance?" You called over your shoulder once you'd finished your thorough examination of Alex. The sound of boots on the hard ground appeared before they appeared.

Eddie and Buck swiftly loaded him on a gurney, but Alex's eyes widened, "Why are there two hot guys touching me? Oh my god. Do you see the cute guys too?"

You snickered as Alex's failed attempt at a stage whisper, "Yes. Alex."

"I've been blessed as a gay man." Alex breathed with a cute little grin plastered on his face, "Maybe I should eat more streetdogs-"

"NO!" Eddie, Buck, and you collectively shouted in response to Alex's delirious comment. He was loaded into the ambulance beside Reggie's gurney.

"I'm gonna jump in with the other guy in the ambulance." You quickly informed your boyfriend and Eddie. Each shared a look before Eddie slammed his fist on the back of this ambulance. It rolled away, and you jogged to the one Hen was driving.

Buck was there giving you a hand into the back of the ambulance with one of the other paramedics. You couldn't meet his eye when you were staring at the unconscious but thankfully alive body of your little brother. Your eyes couldn't be pulled away even as the ambulance started driving away.

Buck momentarily stared after the leaving vehicle until it turned a corner leaving him with his crew and questions. Eddie kept by Buck's side on the return to the firetruck in unusual silence. It wasn't often that Buck was quiet.

"What do you think that was about?" Eddie inquired as the truck pulled onto the street to follow the ambulances to the hospital, "Y/N knew the conscious one-"

"-and the one in the ambulance she jumped in. Kept staring at him like he'd disappear out of her sight." Buck supplied, staring out the window to the passing buildings. His blue eyes are unable to focus on the looks Bobby was sending.

Bobby attempted to bring Buck into a conversation, but each attempt was a failure. Neither Bobby nor Eddie knew how to make him feel better or why he was feeling off. 

Whereas you kept a hawk-eye on your brother's stats the entirety of the drive. The ambulance had only just entered the parking lot when his stats dropped. A long beep sounded, alerting you that Luke's heart had stopped.

"Goddamnit." You swore as you started leaning over Luke to start compressions. In order to continue compressions, you clambered into the gurney as the back doors opened.

"Hold compressions!" Eddie exclaimed once, seeing the situation, "No pulse."

You continued even as the gurney entered the hospital, and a doctor was there, "We got it."

You did as the doctor had subtly implied by climbing off the gurney, leaving the medical professionals to continue. You followed your brother's unconscious body to the surprise of the 118; you had never tried to follow the patient. It was more of Buck's issue.

"Y/N, our job ends here. You know that." Bobby spoke with Hen, Chimney, Eddie and Buck flanking his sides. Your e/c eyes shifted between the brown of your Captain's eyes and the blue of your boyfriend's eyes.

"It doesn't end when I just did compressions on my little brother." You informed him, "Write me up. Suspend me if you want, but I need to be in there."

Bobby's eyes softened, "Your shift is almost over. Just come in early on your next shift; you can make breakfast."

"Thanks, Bobby." You softly informed the man who'd become both your boss and a pseudo father. He only nodded in response with your friends beside him with different expressions, "I should get in there."

Without waiting for another response, you'd already entered the ER through the ambulance bay sliding doors. You went straight to the nursing desk with sure steps.

"Hi, I was in the ambulance that brought in a young male teenager. Shaggy brunette hair, caucasian. He was in a separate ambulance from his two friends." You spoke once the head nurse had turned his attention to you, "He was getting compressions on his way in. Name Luke Patterson."

"Are you asking as a paramedic?" Jude questioned with his fingers tapping the keys of the computer. 

"No. He's my brother." You sighed, bringing the sympathetic brown eyes of Jude to look at you. The look changed a degree when he read the sentences on the screen.

"Are you aware your brother ran away from home? There's a social worker on her way."

Your jaw dropped in surprise, "Ran away? He ran away?!"

Jude flinched at the screech of words you accidentally released to both your and Jude's horror in the quiet ER. Jude turned the screen to show a digital missing person's poster with your brother's face on it.

"He's awake." Jude supplied, having deciphered and guessed correctly you'd gone a while without seeing your brother, "I'm off shift now, but I can bring you to him. I'll let the social worker know."

The nerves grew each step closer to the room your brother was stationed in for the time being with Reggie for comfort in the neighbouring bed. Part of you wished Luke would be asleep to avoid the confrontation about to happen. Only Luke's hazel eyes turned to see him in his pause of puking.

"Hey." You softly breathed into the quiet room. Luke's breath caught in his throat, "You ran away?"

"Guess we're more alike than we thought. We both run when it gets tough." Luke's words were all snark and poison to your heart. His hazel eyes glaring into your own eyes with anger that covered up the pain, "Hope this is just a delirious episode."

Your eyes squeezed closer, "Luke-"

"What? Are you gonna apologize for abandoning me? The only reason you're reaching out is that you happened to be the medic!"

You could physically feel your heart clench, "No. I tried reaching out. Mom and dad don't answer the phone. You didn't have a phone, and like hell, they'd give me the number either. The letters and-"

"Excuse me? Ms. Patterson." Both Luke and your attention shifted the entrance. A well put together woman stood with a clipboard, "I'm Beth. A social worker and I'm afraid you aren't allowed to speak with Luke alone."

"I'm his sister."

"Barely." Luke hissed, avoiding looking at you by looking over at Reggie, "I'd like to be alone."

"I can respect that. Here's my number if you need anything, Luke. Seriously, night or day, I'll answer. I know how it was living in that house, but you have someone to run to. Me." You firmly told the stubborn teenager, "Listen to Beth. You can't live on the streets Luke, it's not fair to you or anyone else. I'll ask my friend to keep an eye on you."

Had you not noticed Luke's jaw clenching, you'd have thought he hadn't heard you, "Whatever."

"Beth, have Reggie or Alex's parents come yet?"

Beth nodded, "I'm not supposed to reveal that, but yes Mr and Mrs Peters are talking to the doctor. Alex was moved into a room. They'll all make a full recovery."

You cast one last look at your little brother curled up in the hospital bed, a stark similarity to the night you returned home, only for your things.

It wasn't an accident you chose to return to your childhood home on Thursday night with the schedule on the fridge memorized. Every second Thursday, your mom attended the PTA meetings for Luke's school. Your father would be home but most likely asleep in his recliner, but if he was awake, it wouldn't be bad.

Your father was more lenient than your mother, even if he shared the same mentality.

"I was wondering when you'd come back," Mitch spoke from his recliner with the side table holding his drink. A glass of your mom's homemade lemonade, "Your mom-"

"I'm not staying." You firmly spoke on your way to the hallways where the bedrooms were positioned. You could hear the soft steps of your father's well-worn slippers.

"What?"

"Look, Dad, you can't leave the house, but I can. I'm not staying in this place with her stifling ideas. This is my life. Just because she decided to be a stay at home, mom doesn't mean she gets to make my decisions and live through me." You informed the man while shoving clothing, items, toiletries, among other things, in the suitcase.

"Y/N, firstly, that is not how to speak about your mother. She sacrificed to take care of this family. Luke looks up at you, don't give him a bad impression of our family."

"No."

"If you walk out that door without apologizing, then you are not welcome back until you do so." Mitch's voice came out in that fatherly authoritarian tone. The no-nonsense look in his eye nailing the coffin in your decision.

"I'm not apologizing for choosing a career of helping other people. Of being a step for someone to live and not die. So what if it's not a teacher, a lawyer or some other bullshit 'acceptable' career. I love you, dad. I love mom too and Luke. But I'm not subjecting myself to a desk job with no drive in it."

"Where will you stay?"

"I have a place. I'll call to talk with Luke. I won't 'poison' his mind with ill thoughts of mom. But I won't lie to him either."

Mitch was stock still as you glanced into the bedroom next to your childhood bedroom. Luke's room was still decorated with spaceships and stuffed animals. Your eyes watched the rising of Luke's back as he breathed from his curled up position.

You couldn't help but walk to kneel at his side. Your hand brushed his soft hair from his forehead. You drank in the look of pure content and innocence on his sleeping face.

"Y/N?" Luke mumbled with his bleary eyes blinking, "You're home."

"I have to head out. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Luke spoke mere seconds before his breathing evened out once more.

That was the last night you'd been in the home. Luke sat next to the landline phone the next night, waiting for a call that never came. Your parents had unhooked the line. Luke sat on a stool beside it for weeks before his hopes soured.

If only you'd known leaving your parents would mean souring your relationship with your brother. Than maybe you would have reached out for his benefit and your self-proclaiming selfishness

"Thought you'd need a ride," Buck spoke from his position leaning against the wall still in his uniform. There was definitely a new tension in the air between you and him, "We'll grab our things from the house than go home."

"Thank you." You softly spoke to Buck. The weight of keeping your family secret dragged your shoulders down. You couldn't help but wonder if this was gonna cause a fracture in your relationship.

"No matter what. I'll always be here." Buck told you with his arms coming to wrap around your shoulders. He led you through the ER, you'd waved at the shocked parents of both Alex and Reggie, "Who-"

"Luke's friends' parents."

"Okay, so your family lives just outside of the city in Los Felix?"

"Feliz. They live in Los Feliz, from what I know. I haven't been back since I was eighteen." You chuckled, "I want to stress that my parents are abusive or neglectful. Not even bad, but my mom had this idea of what my life should be like."

Buck hummed with his right arm around your waist, and his left casually balanced on his outstretched leg. A bottle of beer loosely gripped in his left hand.

"How old is Luke?"

"He'll be eighteen in August. When I left, he was ten." You mused, leaning into Buck's side, "I think that's why Maddie and I get along so well. We're both big sisters with a significant age gap to our brother."

Buck hummed, "Why did you keep it from me?"

"It hurt. It still hurts just thinking about it. They unhooked the landline the night after I went back for my things." You recalled the agony at having an olive branch snapped off, "I promised to call Luke, and I wasn't able to; they'd disconnected the landline. Imagining the look of hurt on Luke's face was enough to keep me from physically reaching out."

"I wish you had trusted me." Buck finally admitted with the last swig of his beer in the middle of his words, "We're engaged. We're looking at houses, but you never told me about your parents. About your brother. Above your life before the 118."

"Buck. I trust you with my life." You urgently informed the firefighter. Your hands cupped his cheeks to ensure his eyes focused on yours. You wanted him to see the truth, "You are the most important piece of my life. You and the 118 made me feel at home from the moment I joined. Buck, you are my family."

That look courtesy of his parents' actions faded ever so slightly from his eyes, "You guys are my family too."

"I'd like you to meet my little brother when we can reconcile." You announced into the cool summer night. Your drink had been long gone in the process of working through seeing your brother again, "I never thought I'd see him as a patient I'd have to help. Seeing him pale and unconscious nearly destroyed me."

"But he made it."

"He texted me 'didn't die' with the rock 'n roll hand emoji." You deadpanned, recalling the emotional two days for news. You were kinda shocked that Luke had even reached out at all.

Buck couldn't have successfully hidden his laugh if you weren't currently leaning against his body.

"So Albert found an apartment. He won't be moving with us." Buck changed the subject with the same ease he'd always held at knowing you. This was just another one of the moments you were thankful for having him by your side.

"So now there's not a reason to search for a bigger house?" You questioned with a crease between your eyebrows.

In the last two years, several significant changes have been impacting all areas of your life, especially the personal aspect. Buck had proposed during a picnic hike about a year ago with the mutual agreement for a long engagement; his parents didn't believe it was for anything other than pregnancy. Additionally, working in the same firehouse made planning difficult and then your apartment lease bringing the conversation of houses.

Originally Albert would rent part of the home out, so it needed at least three bedrooms.

"I mean, we don't have to not look. We've talked about children and settling down." Buck softly offered with a hesitant smile on his face, "I wanted to talk to you about it, but do you think we could talk about a possible time to start trying-"

"Y/N?"

The two adults went on high alert as Luke wandered into the gated garden your apartment building had. Buck's arm slid off your body as soon as you climbed to your feet at the sight of Luke.

"Luke?" You softly gasped, revelling in the sight of your little brother. Physically he looked fine with the addition of bloodshot eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I-I didn't have anywhere else to go." Luke choked out, sliding the battered old backpack off his shoulder onto the duffle at his feet. Luke's hazel eyes glimmering in the setting sun, "I got into a fight with mom and dad."

"Please tell me you didn't run away again." You heavily sighed in your movement to grab his backpack from the ground. Buck was quick to grab the duffle bag from the ground.

"I'll get the air mattress. Let Albert know not to bring his date home." Buck murmured in your ear low enough only you could hear, "I'll heat up the leftover Chinese."

The Patterson siblings watched as Buck entered the opening to the back of the building's secured backyard. Luke's backpack slung over his shoulder, and the duffle in his right hand.

"How did you find where I live?" You asked the emotionally seventeen-year-old with those puppy dog eyes. The eyes with the colour you wished you had inherited instead of your e/c.

"I saw 118 on the inside of the ambulance. I found the firehouse, and after procuring 'evidence', one of the paramedics told me where to find you." Luke shrugged, "I would have gone to Bobby's garage we use as a studio, but...he bailed on us. Reggie tries to get away from his place, and Alex's are assholes."

"The Peters are still married?" You scoffed, recalling the tense moments between little Reggie's parents. A cloud followed the couple around everywhere they went together, and Reggie was always caught in the middle.

"If-if this overstepping, I can find another place-" Luke began to respond on the walk down the inside hall to your apartment door.

"And make my struggle with the cursed object redundant?" Buck joked from the kitchen with a plate filled with warmed up food. Maybe the universe had a plan when Buck accidently over-ordered food from the restaurant.

"Luke, just stay here. You can have something to eat and rest up. But we need to talk about this. Running away is never a solution to your problems." Your stern voice reminded you of your mother when you broke the rules, "You need to let mom and dad know you're crashing at my place. They don't know my address."

"We got your back." Buck cemented to the quiet teenage boy that he saw a lot of himself in. A little kid living in the shadow left by an older sibling, only Luke's still lived.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a shake of your head, "I'm sorry. Buck, this is my little brother Luke. Luke, this is Evan, my fiance."

Luke's eyes widened at the title, "Hi."

"Everyone calls me Buck."

Buck, Luke, and you shared stories of your lives in the times you'd gone without each other while Luke ate. By the time he shovelled the last bite of chow mein in his mouth, you'd caught up enough for the time being. He used the shower and settled into the air mattress sheets on the floor a fair distance from the couch Albert slept on.

"So I guess we'll be finding that house anyway?" Buck inquired under the stream of water from the showerhead. His hands massaging the shampoo into your scalp, the action intimate without a sexual motive behind it.

"How-"

"I could see it in your eye. We can see if your parents would be willing to meet up to talk about Luke. Maybe have him stay with us temporarily, give them space without your parents not knowing where he is." Buck murmured as he caressed your sides with his calloused hands. His forehead leaning down on your own forehead.

"I haven't been home in years. I'm not sure how they'd take us stepping on their toes."

"Then we tell them how it is. Their decision drove their youngest child away, and that almost killed him. He's almost eighteen, and then he can make his own legal decisions. Be the person we both wish had been there when we were his age."

And that's what you did. Buck and you met up with your parents at your childhood home to your horror and Buck's delight. He'd never gotten to see pictures of a younger you, but Maddie had brought his baby pictures for you to see the first time you met her. While your mom had fixed some of her lemonade Buck had toured the photos hanging on the wall.

The conversation itself was tense and combative, but in the end, your parents agreed that they'd prefer Luke to be safe than missing. Life was looking up. 

"Hey," Buck murmured with his arms wrapped around your midsection. His blonde scruff scratching your cheek as he slumped over you, "Is that-?"

"Evie's babysitter?" You supplied with a raised eyebrow towards your now husband's laser focus on your brother.

After your relationship with your parents started healing, you had walked down the aisle in white to Buck. You had settled into the dream house with Luke taking one of the bedrooms. The other bedroom put to use when you got pregnant with Evelyn, Evie for short, to your shared joy.

"He likes her." Buck teased, watching the interaction between the two young adults on the main floor of the 118 fire house.

Eight-month-old Evie chewed on a rattle in the arms of her careful hold of her babysitter, but Evie's eyes watched her uncle. Luke, however, was focused on the beautiful and smart girl he knew from high school; they knew of each other but never acknowledged each other. Luke had already graduated when they first came into each other's worlds. Julie threw herself into babysitting to distract herself from both music and her mother's death.

"She's why the band doesn't practice in our garage?" 

"It's a whole thing." You mused with a shake of your hand, "She lost her mom and music. By complete chance, he walked in on her, singing a song to settle Evie. One thing led to another, and Luke formed Julie and the Phantoms with her, Reggie and Alex."

"They formed a band?" Buck beamed, hearing the recent news, "I thought they'd never find their way back to it."

Around the time of your wedding, Bobby had a family emergency involving his uncle Trevor and his cousin Carrie. You'd gone back to work shortly only to be called to the scene of a fatal accident, the victim being Bobby Wilson.

"Julie is Luke's ideal girl. Good with kids, kind, smart, shy, and shares the same passion for music. They bring out the best in each other. They brought music back to each other." You informed your husband with that lovesick grin that was resigned solely for his impulsive ass.

"Kinda like us?"

"Yeah. Like us."

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[stuckwith-harry]

Hide-and-seek

A/N: Oh, to be a chicken in times like these. (CW for discussion of death, nothing graphic.)

In the chicken shed it might as well still be the eighties, as though time had only gone on for the humans living in the house on the other side of the fence, but not in here, where the hens are quietly clucking and cooing and enjoying their naps, until Ginny shakes a handful of lettuce in the air like an invitation, a beckoning – then they come hurrying towards her, beaks tearing greedily at the green leaves.

When the hens have had their fill, Ginny looks over the gaggle of bickering ladies and finds her favourite amongst them, Genoveva with her warm brown feathers and clever eyes, who yells and shrieks when Ginny lifts her up by her impossibly soft belly, crouching down in the chicken shed, and pulls the disgruntled hen to her chest.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you”, Ginny tells her quietly. She fishes sweetcorn out of the front pocket of her dungarees and holds her open palm out to Genoveva, not flinching or grimacing when the sharp beak leaves little red marks on her skin as the hen gulps down her treat.

Ginny smiles.

The summer after her first year, she climbed into the chicken shed every day. She was soothed, then, by the arrhythmic clucking and the smell of fresh hay and the fact that the hens allowed her to share their company, that they did not recoil in horror at her sight.

It was her that named them, while she sat here for hours and hours with a chicken in her lap, more often than not Genoveva, who, for all her complaining, was easily the most patient of the bunch, and who nestles into her lap now, blinking slowly in the twilight while Ginny strokes her feathers, the burning inside her ribcage dull and pulsating like that of an infected wound.

Like it was her that took the damn Killing Curse to the chest.

“You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, she mutters, meeting Genoveva’s sharp eyes. “Nothing in those little heads of yours except earthworms and soft hay.”

She sits there for ages and ages like she did that summer, willing the comfort of the soft animal to sink into her like warmth. When she finally gets up to leave the chickens be, she tosses the rest of the sweetcorn into the hay (Genoveva looks utterly betrayed), fills up the grains in the feeder, and climbs out of the shed with the smell of warm feathers and wheat straw still in her nose.

“Chicken-feeding duty?”, calls a voice from near the house as she swings her bare legs over the wooden fence and strolls back towards the Burrow. When she looks for the voice’s owner, she discovers Ron, sitting on the weathered bench below the kitchen window.

“What’re you doing out here?”, she calls out as she comes closer.

“Hiding”, he says dully. “Mum’s crying again.”

Ginny feels something inside her chest take a tumble. “Is anyone with her?”

“Yeah, I’m not that much of a dickhead. Dad and Percy and Bill are all in there.”

“You’re not a dickhead”, Ginny says automatically, surprising them both. Then: “Mind if I stay?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

So she sinks on the bench beside him, joining him in his grim silence. They gaze aimlessly over the soft green hills all around, the shape of the lake like a blue thumbprint in the landscape, where they whiled away so many happier, warmer days than this, and Ottery St. Catchpole’s mismatched roofs in the distance, smoke rising from the chimneys.

Ron finally looks over at her. “Were you with the chickens this whole time? I thought you’d grown out of your obsession with them.”

Ginny musters up a grin. “Never. I love those stupid hens. That was just an elaborate ruse so I could hide in the chicken coop when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never occurred to any of you to look.”

“Well, you stopped growing at about five feet, I figure you fit right in.”

Ginny whacks him in the knee. In a true testament to the severity of the situation, Ron does not retaliate.

She tells herself it’s that, not how much they aged him, the few short months that he was gone.

It’s less blatant now that Mum has shorn back the unkempt mop of hair that was falling into his eyes and growing down the back of his neck like wild weeds when he walked through the secret entrance of the Room of Requirements with Harry and Hermione; now that he’s shaved the patchy stubble on his cheeks and his face has regained a little fullness. But sometimes she still looks at him and wonders how ten years have not passed since she watched him slip away into thin air at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“Did anything happen?”, she asks. “With Mum?”

Ron shrugs, expression blank. “Some fool said his name again. I never noticed how rarely we actually said the twins’ individual names until we had to break the habit of saying Fred-and-George all in one go. It’s like he’s Voldemort.”

Ginny doesn’t laugh.

“I know”, she mutters. “Don’t think it’ll ever come naturally.”

He nods mechanically. “Anyway – I made a run for it. I just couldn’t do it right then, having to comfort her and everything.”

Ginny looks over at him. “Funny, you’re so good at it.”

“You just say that because I make the best tea.”

“Well, you do.”

The same way that children can recognise each of their family members by the sound of their footsteps as heard through a wall, or the rhythmic pattern with which they knocked on the door, the Weasley siblings have learned to read each other’s silences since they’ve come home. Often now, they appear at each other’s bedroom doors at all hours of the night, shaken from nightmares or too restless to sleep or, rarely, weeping.

Most nights, two or three or four of them eventually find themselves in the kitchen, where Ginny turns on the lights, and Ron puts on the kettle, and they sit there and while away the small hours in each other’s company, in silence, in quiet understanding, in murmured chatter about nothing at all.  It’s good comfort, the idea that even after everything, there’s nothing in this world that a hot cup of tea can’t fix.

Ginny shifts on the bench next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. “Remember when that fox got one of the hens? I was inconsolable, and you were so nice to me when we put her in a shoebox and buried her behind the house, you didn’t even make fun of me.”

“You lot are different, that’s easy. I just can’t take it when it’s our parents.”

Ginny hums in understanding. “I think seeing Dad cry was worse for me. At the memorial.”

“Cheers, thanks for bringing it up again.”

She snorts.

“You’re good with Harry”, she says softly. “D’you miss him at all?”

He rolls his eyes. “He just sleeps two floors below me, it’s not like he died.”

Ginny winces.

Ron does not miss the look on her face or the heaviness of her silence, as they have all learned to do, and asks in an unnaturally light tone: “How’re you coping with him waking up three times a night?”

He seems relieved, for a moment there, when she smirks.

“It’s not too bad, actually. At least he makes for a great pillow.”

Ron looks appalled. “What the hell happened to the camp bed?”

“Oh, we just keep that around for decoration now.” She grins, comforted by the opportunity to tease him. “And he doesn’t wake up as much anymore.”

His face lights up. “That’s good news, at least. Lead with that next time.”

“Oh, he’s just … stopped going to sleep altogether.”

“That really solves that problem”, he says darkly. “The idiot.”

“I don’t think it’s purposeful”, she says. “He’s always pretending to be asleep when I look at him, but I can always tell. And when he does doze off, I’ll just stir next to him, and that’s enough to wake him up again.”

“He’s a really light sleeper these days”, Ron says apologetically. “The worst camping trip in the world will do that to a person.”

Ginny grins faintly. “Yeah, he’s mentioned it.”

“He’s talking, then?”

“Hm-hm.” She wraps her arms a little tighter around her legs. “Which is good, I guess.”

He watches her for a minute, as though unsure what to make of her tone. “Anything on your mind?”

She laughs. “Anyone ever told you you’re turning into Mum?”

“Well, we’re here anyway!”, Ron says, ears flushing. “Spit it out, will you?”

“He, uhm –”

It has not occurred to her, until right now, how difficult it would be to pass the story on, even to someone who has heard it before. Harry handed it to her because she asked him to, and still it knocked into her like a wild animal, pouncing, the weight of it like a Hippogriff standing on her chest, pinning her to the earth.

“He told me about walking into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Ah”, Ron says hollowly. “No wonder you’re hiding in a chicken coop.”

She looks around at him. “It’s not Harry I’m hiding from.”

“But you are hiding”, Ron says wisely.

Ginny shrugs. “I dunno what I expected. Somehow I’d convinced myself I already knew the worst of it. Which, as it turns out, was a bit stupid of me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“I thought he was in on it. Ever since I watched him come back to life at Hagrid’s feet … I thought there was some sort of plan. But there wasn’t, or Dumbledore didn’t tell him, anyway. I thought he knew he was going to survive, and it turns out that, uhm – he didn’t know shit. He went there to die, for real.”

Ginny looks back at him, words coming faster now. “And I’m – I’m so angry, and I don’t know why. Or who I’m angry with. It can hardly be Harry.”

“In all fairness, I kind of felt like punching him when he told us”, Ron says quietly, and her mouth briefly twists into something like a smile. “If anything we should be angry with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, even – but they’re not within punching distance, so what are you gonna do?”

“If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead, I would kill him”, Ginny says. “I swear, I would kill him.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable”, Ron says good-naturedly, patting her arm.

“And Harry – Harry keeps apologising, and I don’t know what for.”

Ron’s expression is pained. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He sighs. She handed this to him, and now he is steeling himself to hand something back to her. She can tell.

“My best guess is … for not saying goodbye.”

Ginny does not look at him. Suddenly she is blinking rapidly in the fading light, sitting there as the blow rolls over her, something blunt and violent that should have broken her ribs like the impact of a Bludger; but there is no injury, only an ache that does not abate, that sits all around her, inside her. She doesn’t think it’s ever going to go away, all that hurting, writhing and straining inside her like a second skeleton.

“How could he have? We would’ve dragged him back to the castle by the damn hair.”

“Of course we would have”, Ron says robustly.

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach out to her, hold her, maybe. He seems to think better of it in the end, and she’s almost relieved, dreading what she’d do if someone hugged her.

It’s another thing that won’t ever come easily: showing up on someone’s doorstep, weeping.

“If it’s any consolation”, he says after a while, “I think that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ve been wondering”, she mutters. “Can’t think of very much that beats walking to your own death. No fucking wonder he doesn’t sleep.”

“It’s funny”, Ron says, “I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he seems alright, almost.”

Ginny shrugs. “Isn’t he always? Remarkably functional, considering.”

Ron makes an attempt at a smile. “It’s such a Harry thing to do, though, isn’t it? Always dying for other people. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Hardly just a Harry thing, it turns out.”

It’s all shit, she thinks when he looks at her. Being the person knocking at the door, and the one listening on the other side, opening it.

“He told me about Malfoy Manor”, she says softly.

“Ah.” Ron kicks at the dirt to his feet. “Well, then you know what keeps me up at night.”

“He said – he said you offered to swap places with Hermione. Let Bellatrix have you instead.”

“And? You would’ve done the exact same thing for him.”

Ginny almost smiles. He might as well still be the boy who stuck stubbornly by her side next to the chicken fence all night, when she couldn’t bear to head back to the house, in case the fox ever came back.

“Yeah. I would have.”

It settles on her shoulders as quickly and unnoticeably as night, rapidly falling all around them: everything she would’ve done, in a heartbeat, in an instant.

“I would’ve taken the forest, too”, she says, more to herself than to Ron. “I would’ve done it all for him.”

It seems significant, somehow, that Ron does not resist this. That maybe he knows what it felt like, to Ginny, when they walked out into the courtyard and saw Harry.

That, too, felt like a Bludger to the chest: the sight of him, a kid in Hagrid’s arms, his glasses askew. How she wished it was her lying there, dead in his place.

“Those two”, Ron says abruptly. “Some day they’re really gonna be the death of us.”

Ginny almost laughs.

“So you won’t strangle him for abandoning the camp bed?”

Ron eyes her for a moment, a sort of benevolent sternness in his expression – and Ginny was right, that’s all Mum. “Yeah, I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sorry, anyway”, she says, half-smiling. “For costing you your roommate.”

Ron sighs. “They grow up so fast.”

“And for all this, too. You were trying to hide, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. You had to find me eventually.”

[evanoracronwell]

I'll be holding on to you

Buddie♥

"Because, if he was going to fall, let it be Buck, the last thing he would see."

Also on ao3 (1/?)

Eddie is ... numb.

You see, he made a list, since he joined the fire department, he made a list of all the possible scenarios that could happen, and that would prevent him from coming home. For Christopher. Getting shot by a sniper who is targeting LAFD members was definitely not on that list. But then again, being buried in a well wasn’t either.

He can't help but see the irony in all this, however. Especially when he remembers the conversation he had with Marwani

"... at least no one's shooting at us ..."

And that the shot was in his shoulder, so, I mean, everything looks like a really bad joke.

Except no one is laughing. And everything hurts. Not in the beginning; in the first few seconds, everything is quiet and he feels numb. It’s the blood on Buck's face that awakens him, that makes the pain go deep into his bones. It’s Buck's lost, shocked look that makes Eddie realize what had happened.

The floor is the next thing he feels. Damn, he didn't remember that it hurt that much.

"... Eddie ...."

He recognizes the voice, it's Buck. His eyes search for him; it’s so normal, so natural for him to search for Buck. Always Buck. Lying on the floor with someone holding him, Buck is crying and struggling to get out of their arms, struggling to come to Eddie.

No. Stay there. Stay safe.

Eddie wants to scream; he needs to scream. He desperately needs Buck to hear him, so that Buck doesn't move, so he doesn't come to him. He needs Buck to be safe. It's the only thing that matters to him; Buck's safety.

"... let me go .... Eddie ... no ..."

Does he close his eyes? Does he lose consciousness?

Eddie doesn't know. For a few seconds, everything is a black, quiet blur. Then there is Buck again. Screaming for him, pushing someone off of him, going to Eddie.

No! Go back. Please.

He feels the pressure against his shoulder and lets out a grunt of pain. It hurt so much, he’s so tired.

".... no ... Eddie come on .... no ... please ..."

Please, don’t cry. I'm very sorry.

"... keep your eyes on me, Eddie ... you know the drill ..."

...be sure that you’re following your heart...

I'm sorry ... I was so wrong It was you. It has always been you.

And before falling into that endless blackness that is calling for him, Eddie looks at Buck one last time. Because if he is going to fall, then let Buck be the last thing he sees.

Buck is ... lost.

They only went to save a child who was being poisoned by his own mother. How did they end up here?

"Eddie ... stay with me, come on, eyes on me ..."

"Eddie, wake up."

"Eddie, don't do this ... come on, man."

How is that fair?

How did it all end up like this?

He remembers the noise, the lost look in Eddie's eyes.

The feeling of Eddie's blood hitting his face.

Captain Mehta's hands holding him against the concrete.

How he fought Captain Mehta, he fought to reach Eddie.

The bitter, coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

"Hey Eddie, just hold on, help is on the way."

"Stay with me, Eddie. Eyes on me."

Hands pushing him again away from Eddie.

Paramedics carrying Eddie away.

Buck remembers the cold ambulance walls.

The feeling that the hospital seemed to be getting further and further away.

"He's going into shock."

No. Eddie!

"He's coding."

Buck remembers tearing up his shirt.

He remembers starting the compressions himself.

Because no one was going to fight to bring Eddie back as much as Buck was.

And he fought, even when the paramedics told him to stop, even when they wanted to give up. Buck fought, even when he felt Eddie's ribs cracking, even when his own arms were getting numb and tired. He fought until the last second until he heard the beep echoing through the ambulance stating that Eddie was back.

And then they took him away, took him down a corridor where Buck couldn't follow and it's not fair. Eddie shouldn't go to a place where Buck can’t follow him.

They were just trying to save a child! How did they end up like this?

He sits on a chair somewhere in the waiting room. It's so hot outside, so why can't Buck stop shaking? Why is he so cold?

He needs to get up, clean up. He has blood all over his shirt; once it was white, but now it's just crimson. His hands too, and fuck, he imagines his face looks the same. And the taste in his mouth, like an old coin bittering everything inside him.

Would that taste ever go away?

Yes, he should get up. And he would do that ... if he could only move.

Bobby is ... confused.

When he entered the station to start a new shift he was faced with three things.

First, the captain's car wasn’t there.

Second, Buck and Eddie weren't there, either. Which was strange because they were never late, Buck, in fact, is always the first one to arrive.

Third, Chimney was walking back and forth holding his phone in his hands.

"Bobby. You won't believe it. That child we saw earlier, the one from whose mother was hanging from the balcony ..."

"...Eddie and Buck went over there with Captain Mehta..."

Bobby can't be surprised that those two got involved in something like that. Much less that they did it together. Buck and Eddie were always together. Bobby doesn't know why he had thought the two of them would never get along.

Of all the scenarios. Of all the possibilities. This was not what Bobby had imagined for his day.

One phone call. And everything goes to hell.

"Captain Nash, this is Captain Mehta from 133."

"... I'm sorry Captain, firefighter Diaz was hit by a gunshot ..."

"... he was taken to the hospital, Captain. Cedars-Senai ..."

"... Buckley was with him. No, Captain, Buckley was not hurt ..."

"... I don't know, Bobby. It didn't look good ... I'm sorry ..."

So Chimney is in charge of the Station.

"Let Hen know as soon as she arrives."

"Call us, as soon as you have news ..."

And Bobby drives as fast as possible, breaking all the traffic laws that get in his way.

And Bobby didn't expect that sight.

Buck, sitting in a chair, his body curled up as if he wanted to crawl into his own skin. Covered in blood. The look in his eyes, dull and lost.

"Buck ... son..."

"... I tried, Bobby ... I swear I tried ... he wouldn't wake up. I told him to open his eyes, I told him...but he wouldn't...and I....."

"... so much blood ... oh Bobby, there was so much blood ..."

"You need to clean up, Buck; come on son, I brought some clothes that were in your closet."

He helps Buck to clean up. Bobby swallows his own fear and pain and helps Buck. Because he sees it now, Bobby realizes that maybe it would have been better if Eddie and Buck had never become friends. Perhaps it would have been better that way.

"So, we can end up with two cut lines?"

Hen was right, wasn't she? There were only two scenarios if Buck had gone down that well. Either he was coming back with Eddie or he wasn't coming back at all. But now there was no well. Now there was a hospital room and the possibility of Eddie not coming back, again.

Buck survived being crushed by a fire truck. A pulmonary embolism. A tsunami.

But he wouldn't survive losing Eddie.

[diazboys]

i like watching the days go by with you | 2k words | buddie | pre-relationship, domestic fluff | ao3

written for Eddie Diaz Week 2021 | Day 2: “This is nice.” + soft

.

A quiet but persistent buzzing noise coming from somewhere behind his head is what startles Eddie awake. He peaks one eye open but his vision is still fuzzy from sleep so he almost knocks over the lamp as he tries to locate his phone. Eventually, he manages to silence the alarm. With a sigh, he falls back onto the pillow, blinking and waiting until he feels awake enough to roll out of bed. The curtains are slightly parted and the already bright L.A. sun is creeping up the floorboards, painting a narrow path across the bed and widening up on the wall behind Eddie. He smiles to himself. 

At the beginning of their group sleepover — or quarantine, if you wish — in Buck’s apartment Eddie made a small comment that getting blinded by the sun first thing in the morning wasn’t really his favourite thing to do. Since then, the curtains were kept shut every morning. Sometimes, when Eddie stirred awake as Buck was getting up, he saw his friend walk towards the window to peek outside. And every single time he parted the curtains just the tiniest bit, mindful of Eddie’s half-serious comment. The thoughtfulness made Eddie’s heart soar. 

This whole living at Buck’s place thing has been… interesting so far. The sleeping arrangements seemed like a challenge at first but they’ve dealt with it pretty quickly. On the first day when they showed up on Buck’s doorstep, he had an argument with Hen about giving her the bed. Unsurprisingly, Buck lost and Hen happily took the couch. Chim, only slightly less happily took the mattress they've placed downstairs. There was a perfectly good mattress waiting for Eddie in the loft as well. 

But the problem was that… he never really used it. That first night they were all tired after their shift, Chim and Hen already snoring quietly downstairs. Eddie moved over to the corner of the room, with every intention of crashing there for the night. But then Buck made a casual comment about the bed being big enough and that they could share if Eddie wanted.

And Eddie wanted. For a lot of reasons. Though the one that sounded the most reasonable at that moment was the fact that the bed was way more comfortable and required much less preparation than the mattress. And Eddie’s brain was too tired to tell him why sharing a bed with Buck was a dumb idea. ‘Having some kind of not-strictly-platonic feelings for Buck’ would definitely make it to the top of the list. But there was no list at the time, so Eddie just snuck under the covers on the left side of the bed that Buck left for him. They were both out within minutes. 

And then Eddie just… didn’t bother with the mattress. Even though — or maybe because — on that first morning he woke up well rested and content, with Buck’s arm thrown loosely across his waist. It was nice. It took all of Eddie’s willpower not to roll over, closer into the warm embrace. Neither he, nor Buck commented on it and they let it be. Eddie was more than sure that Hen and Chim noticed — they noticed everything — but except a curious glance or five every now and then, they didn’t say anything. They kept up the whole thing even when Hen decided to go back home to Karen and the kids. Chim took the couch instead, his mattress had been put away. And Eddie stayed in Buck’s bed.

So here Eddie is now, sprawled on said bed with a stupid smile on his face, staring at the curtains like it’s the best thing ever. It certainly is great and lets him wake up without feeling like someone’s flashing a torch into his eyes. But it’s not directly responsible for the stupid smile, he must admit. 

It takes him another minute before he finally wills his body to move. The right side of the bed is already vacant when he rolls over onto his stomach. He sends a glance downstairs. Buck is bustling around the kitchen, earphones in so he won’t disturb anyone. Eddie is pretty sure that he’s listening to this science slash comedy podcast he’s been obsessed with lately. He can’t really remember the name but he’s pretty sure there was a “fish” in it.

With one more content sigh, Eddie rolls out of bed and makes his way downstairs barefoot. As he walks closer, his brain recognises the scents coming from the kitchen. Coffee and something delicious that smells of tomatoes and fresh basil. His smile grows even bigger. He’s spent enough mornings here to hope that there’s a cup of freshly brewed coffee waiting for him as well.

Before Eddie can make a beeline for the coffee machine and check, Buck turns to take something from the kitchen island. His eyes skip to Eddie and his whole face lights up in a smile. Eddie’s breath hitches but he reciprocates the gesture. How can he not when Buck is looking like that, all happiness and soft curls? Eddie’s right hand twitches by his side. There’s a sudden need in him to run his fingers through Buck’s hair, to see if it’s as soft as it looks like. To stop himself from doing something stupid, Eddie grabs the barstool and sits down. He stuffs his hands under his tights, for good measure.

“Morning,” Buck greets, taking his earphones out and putting them in his pocket.

Before Eddie can say anything, a cup of coffee is placed right in front of him. He inhales the scent and lets out a happy little hum that makes Buck laugh.

“Hildy sends her regards,” Buck jokes, laughing even harder at the unimpressed look on Eddie’s face. 

Really, it’s about time Buck let that go. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he had been startled, hearing a strange voice saying “Hello, Eddie” as he walked into the kitchen that first morning. And he already apologised for the mug he dropped. To Buck’s credit, he did disable the voice greetings after that. Now the cursed machine was just… quietly lurking from its place on the counter.

“Thanks, Buck,” he says sincerely after all, deciding to ignore the comment. 

Buck only shrugs with a smile and turns back to whatever is sizzling on the pan. Eddie wraps his hands around the mug and takes a sip. Another content hum escapes his lips before he can stop it.

“This is nice,” Eddie says.

He’s not even sure what exactly he’s referring to. The coffee, the slow and calm atmosphere of the morning, the sight of Buck in a soft hoodie, pushing an omelette towards Eddie? The domesticity of it all that makes Eddie’s heart ache? It’s all of it and probably more. If only Christopher was around to join them in the kitchen right now, to ask for pancakes for breakfast and complain about his online classes or tell them about the dream he’s had. Then, Eddie would be completely and thoroughly happy. 

And this is a thought that both excites and terrifies him at the same time.

But it’s a bit less scary when Buck is standing right in front of him, his big arms resting against the counter as he leans forward. He’s looking at Eddie with those soft eyes and a beautiful smile on his lips. The only thing Eddie can do is to stare back and hope that his face is better at controlling his emotions than his heart is.

It would be so easy to just lean forward a little and—

“God, you two make me miss Maddie even more,” Chimney says from somewhere behind Eddie’s back.

His sudden appearance startles Eddie enough that he pushes a fork off the counter. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter and he quickly ducks to retrieve it.

“I’ll start giving you plastic utensils at some point, I swear,” Buck says, shaking his head at Eddie. His eyes are laughing, though, so Eddie knows he’s not being serious.

“Oh fuck off, I apologised for that mug already. And it was just a fork this time, don’t be dramatic,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him but he’s smiling as well. Then he turns and adds, “Morning, Chim.” 

Chimney is freshly showered and pours himself a cup of coffee. He’s also watching them with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile on his face. Eddie tries his best to ignore that, just like he ignored Chim’s comment. 

“Um, so,” Eddie starts, wanting to steer the conversation onto a different track. “What facts did they have today?” he asks, pointing his chin at Buck’s phone laying on the counter. Just like he expected, there’s a paused episode of that No Such Thing as a Fish podcast.

“Oh, did you know that there is a type of pasta that only 3 women in the world can make?” Buck’s eyes light up in excitement. “It’s some fancy one they make in Sardinia and it’s called threads of God. The recipe has been passed from mother to daughter for ages.”

“What if they run out of daughters and have a son?” Eddie asks.

“It’s fine, cause the recipe isn’t even secret or anything,” Buck says, pointing the spatula at him. “It’s just a pain in the ass to make. They’ve been trying to teach people how to do it but it’s just hard enough that most of them just give up.”

Chimney chuckles at that around a mouthful of omelette. "You should totally try. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd manage to do it, out of sheer stubbornness."

And Buck — both because he's interested and because he rarely steps down from a challenge — reaches for his phone and starts googling for the recipe and reads out whatever he finds.

It sounds really interesting. And not only because Eddie has a soft spot for Buck and the little tidbits of information he gathers and then excitedly shares with everyone who wants to listen. Eddie always does. Some people just shrug or roll their eyes at Buck, but Eddie really admires his interest, the childlike curiosity about the world that Buck has. There are so many things Eddie admires about him.

All things considered, Eddie shouldn’t be surprised that somewhere along the way he has fallen in love with his best friend.

It catches him a bit off guard, being able to put a name to the feeling that has been blooming in his heart for so long. But it doesn’t make him panic, at least no more than having feelings for his best friend already did. It’s more of a relief, really. It all makes sense now. 

Eddie doesn’t even realise that he’s been smiling and staring at the half-eaten omelette in front of him until his phone buzzes with a new text message. It shakes him out of his thoughts and he opens it to find a photo from Christopher.

"Everything okay, Eddie?" he hears Buck ask.

Raising his head, Eddie is met with a slightly worried gaze. He smiles, showing Buck the text he's just gotten.

"Yeah, Christopher's just complaining about his history assignment," he explains.

Buck chuckles at the photo of Chris' pouting face as he holds a history textbook and 'There's too many dates!' with a row of angry emojis written underneath. "We should FaceTime him later. I miss that little rascal."

Eddie doesn't point out that they've done that barely two days ago. Instead, his smile grows bigger as he agrees. He knows for a fact that Chris misses his Buck just as much and that the two of them have been texting a lot.

For some reason, Chimney sighs, rolls his eyes as Eddie glances at him, and leaves the kitchen with his coffee cup still in hand. Eddie's not sure what that was about. He doesn't have time to dwell on it though, because Buck drops on the barstool next to him with his own breakfast, their knees knocking together as he makes himself comfortable. Sipping the last of his coffee, Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to stop a smile.

He really could get used to spending all of his mornings like this.

[dammit-neal]

*Gasp* And They Were NEIGHBORS! A Buddie Neighbor AU

This fic is dedicated to @agentmarymargaretskitz who sent me the original prompt (as well as so many others when I wasn’t feeling well, seriously can’t thank you enough and I will respond to each of your asks, I’m just savoring them) and to @justsmilestuffhappens who I have been mutualling back and forth with for a REALLY long time (Hi! Nice to meet you, I love you already!) and wanted to see this prompt happen!

***

“I SWEAR to god, Buck, if I hear even one more word out of your mouth about this guy and his kid I will throw you over this balcony!”

“But Hen--”

“He’s gorgeous, I know! And his kid is the cutest thing since puppies! We get it! Now stop talking about it and do something about it!” Hen sounded mostly exasperated, but dare Buck hope he still heard a little fondness in there as well?

He smiled. “Right. Okay.” Silence followed as he wracked his brains. “Wait, what should I do?? This guy doesn’t know me at all, I haven’t gone over yet to say hello, I’m so worried about being awkward or overkill--”

“Overkill? You??” Chimney chuckled from across the firehouse loft where he was playing the pinball arcade. 

“Hey!”

“In all seriousness, Buck,” Chim turned and addressed him, his smile gone from teasing to kind. “You’re gonna be fine, just go say hi. The sooner you get it over with, the less awkward it’ll be. Also, remember you still gotta find out if he’s interested. And available too; if he’s as hot as you say, he could already be dating someone.”

“Oh shit! Wait, what if he is?” Buck put his face in his hands and groaned. “Urgh, what should I do?”

“Why not take over some of those cookies I taught you how to bake last week, Buck?” Buck raised his eyes to Bobby, who was watching him with a small, patient smile. “Nothing out of the ordinary about bringing some baked goods to a new neighbor. It’s a great way to introduce yourself and get in their good books.”

“Okay!” Buck nodded. “Can you help me bake them again, Cap?”

Bobby's nodded, already headed for the pantry. “Of course.”

***

Eddie sighed. He was so glad he moved but it didn’t stop the process from being hell. It had been a long day job hunting and he still needed to find a good school for Chris. At the moment, Chris was in the living room, watching TV.

Eddie got up and went over to the fridge, digging around for the Tupperware of dinner Abuela had sent over and transferring it to a pot to reheat. Soon the smell of delicious posole filled the house and he sat, taking a moment just to savor the scent and feel just a bit more at home.

He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“No rest for the weary.” Sighing, Eddie stood and shuffled over, glancing through the peephole. A tall man stood there, his hair short and neatly slicked back. He was shuffling back and forth awkwardly, a covered plate in his hands. 

Who is this? Eddie opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh hey!” The man’s eyes lit up and he looked Eddie up and down. He was a bit taller than Eddie and dressed sharply in a firefighter’s uniform. Eddie instantly became aware of the ratty sweatpants and loose Henley he’d thrown on as soon as he’d gotten back home and how mussed his hair likely was from running his fingers through it in frustration. Weirdly though, the man’s smile didn’t dim. 

“Hi, My name’s Evan Buckley, I’m your neighbor! Apartment 2B.” He smiled, eyes lingering on Eddie’s for just a moment too long, before he jolted and laughed awkwardly, lifting his hands up. “Cookies! Uh, I mean, I made cookies for you.” The man lifted the cloth off the plate and a heavenly smell wafted from  a pile of delicious looking cookies. “They’re chocolate chip macadamia--wait, you don’t have any allergies right? Or gluten intolerant or anything? Or, shit, are you vegan? I should’ve asked, there’s eggs in here...” Evan made to cover the plate again, but Eddie put out a hand, stopping him. He couldn’t help grinning at the guy--the way he rambled, his bright smile. 

“You think I’m gonna let you walk away with those now that you’ve offered? They smell great, Evan.”

“Oh thank goodness!” The smile was back and brighter. “And, uh, feel free to call me Buck, all my friends do. And welcome to the neighborhood! It’s nice here, everyone’s polite, except Mr. Grivary in 4C, he can be a bit--but of course you don’t want to hear me rambling...” The guy blushed and Eddie felt his own smile widen. This man was adorable.

“Actually, that sounds like useful information Buck.” Eddie remembered Abuela’s dinner and held the door wider. “I’m not really a cook myself, but we have my Abuela’s posole for dinner, would you like to join us?”

“Yes!! I mean,” Buck blushed again and cleared his throat. “Yeah sure, if it isn’t any trouble...”

***

Buck felt like he’d barely fallen asleep when his doorbell rang.

“Hmm?” He mumbled at the door. Which of course could not be heard by whoever was on the other side. They rang the doorbell again.

“Ugh, fuck... Yeah, coming!” Buck dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the door, glancing through the peephole. He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face as he caught sight of golden brown curls, red glasses, and the world’s cutest smile. 

“Chris!” He pulled the door open. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I’ve got news!” Chris giggled as he carefully walked into Buck’s apartment and sat himself down at the kitchen table. Buck automatically reached for his crutches and propped them against the chair. It was hardly the first time Chris had come to visit; he came over often to play games, tell Buck about his day, or help him try out a new recipe. “Our school is holding a bake sale on Friday.”

“Those are fun.” Buck sat down across from Chris, voice lowered conspiratorially. “What are you making?”

“That’s the thing.” Christopher’s tone turned sad. “The teacher said it has to be homemade and Dad’s been stressing out about it. He’s super busy with his new job and I know he wants to help, but... He burned water once. Just water.” 

“Aw man.” Buck put in every effort not to laugh, but a giggle still escaped. “You want me to help you put something together, take the pressure off your dad?” Christopher nodded happily and Buck reach for his notebook where he carefully documented all of Bobby’s recipes. “How’s cupcakes sound, Superman?”

In short order, they had all the ingredients lined up on the counter, and Chris was comfortably seated right next to the mixer, ready to dump in anything Buck handed him.

“...And then, only after that you want to add the dry stuff. I don’t really know the science behind it yet, I just know that it works. If I do find out, I’ll tell you.”

“Okay. Buck?”

“Hmm?” Buck consulted Bobby’s notes carefully and measured out a cup of flour, handing it over to be added to the mix.

“Where did you learn how to bake so well? Did your mom or dad teach you?”

Buck grinned. “Nah. My captain at the fire station is the best cook I’ve ever met. Everything I baked for you guys I learned from him.”

“Oh.” Christopher reached out a hand for the second cup of carefully measured flour. “Are your parents also bad cooks like my dad?”

“Well, no. My parents are nothing like your dad.” Buck sobered. “My mom cooked a little for us, but mostly we ordered in. And she never... uh, she never had time to teach me or Maddie. I didn’t have a complete homemade meal until I started working at the 118.” He shook his head to clear the thoughts and smiled at Christopher. “But now thanks to Cap, I got an almost-dad who cooks for me every day! And now he’s teaching me so I can do it one day for my kids, if I’m ever lucky enough to have them.” 

Christopher thought for a second, absently reaching for the teaspoon of baking powder and adding it to the mix before saying. “I already have a dad, and I don’t want to trade him for anything. But... Could you be my second dad?”

Buck looked up from the salt, startled.

“Like a cooking almost-dad who teaches me how to cook just like your Cap does for you? I want to be able to help Dad so he stops feeling so bad about not cooking.” Christopher was smiling at him, waiting for a response. Buck looked away quickly and took a deep breath, clearing the sudden thickness in his throat and blinking away wet eyes.

“Y-yeah, sure, Chris. I’d be happy to.”

 ***

Eddie arrived home from work exhausted. As he approached the door, he noted how quiet the apartment sounded. Usually that meant that Christopher was hanging out by Buck’s, but Buck’s apartment was also quiet and dark. Hurrying toward the door, Eddie fumbled with his key and jerked it open as fast as he could--

“SURPRISE!!”

For only two people, Buck and Christopher still managed to startle the shit out of him.

“Fu-fudge! Guys what the hell...!”

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Christopher called from the table.

“Happy birthday, Eddie!” Buck was bent over something, his broad back blocking whatever it was. Then he rose and stepped away to Christopher’s side. He grinned, cheeks slightly flushed. “It’s not perfect, Cap would’ve done it better, but I’d say for Chris and I’s first ever layer cake it’s pretty darn good!” He and Chris high-fived each other as Eddie stepped closer.

The cake was lopsided, and the icing oozed down the sides a bit and on top... was that the number 32?

“Chris did all the writing,” Buck added proudly. “As the mastermind behind this, it was only right that he got the honors.”

“What do you think, Dad?” Chris’ voice bubbled over with delight.

Eddie looked up. They were both watching him, eyes bright, smiles wide, waiting on his response. I think--no, I know have the best kid ever.

And the best Buck.

Eddie couldn’t contain the huge grin that broke out on his face. “It’s perfect.” He looked a them, eyes meeting Christopher's, then Buck’s. “Thank you.”

***

“So when do I get to meet her?” Abuela was layering a container with tamales, her back to Eddie.

“Who?”

“The person you’ve been sharing all my cooking with.” Abuela’s tone brooked no nonsense. “The person who makes you smile to yourself every time you think I’m not looking.”

Eddie startled. “Oh, Buck? He’s not... we’re not--”

“Nonsense, mi amor.” Abuela chuckled, clamping the lid down on the container of tamales and handing them to Eddie’s slack hands. “If he isn’t, then he should be.”

Eddie stopped where he was. Abuela is right. Chris adores him, I adore him... What am I waiting for?

He reached for his phone and sent out a text.

To: Buck

From Eddie:

Abuela made tamales. Come over tonight? 

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Missed High Five

911/Buddie

For @buckleysjareau who asked for Buck giving Eddie flirting lessons <3

If he was going to blame anyone, he would blame Chimney. No, he would blame himself for listening to Chimney. What did he know about dating anyways? Sure, he and Maddie had been through hell and were still going on dates and discovering things they loved about each other and seemed to be genuinely happy together. But that was a fluke, obviously.

Just ask them out. The worst they can do is say ‘no’ and then you can move on.

Horrible advice. In point of fact, the worst thing they could do was not ‘say no’. They could laugh in their face; they could say yes to avoid conflict; they could ask for a transfer and they’d never see each other again.

Maybe Chimney’s advice would be different if he knew that he was telling him to ask out a coworker.

Either way, it was definitely Chimney’s fault, and not the extra shot he’d done at the bar while they were all out celebrating Albert’s birthday.

“It’s weird, right?” Hen tucked into his side as he lounged at the edge of the party. “Not knowing any of Albert’s friends?”

Eddie shrugged to avoid admitting that he was incredibly uncomfortable. “That seems to be the way with us, though. Any excuse to get together.” He took another swig of beer, eye catching sight of the object of his interest dancing with a few of Albert’s coworkers. “Or maybe it’s just weird because we’re making it weird.”

Hen followed his line of sight, chuckling when she found Buck twirling a young woman who was clearly starstruck by the older man.

“More like we have the common sense to know when the age gap is too wide.”

Just ask them out.

Chugging the last of his bottle with an audible gulp, Eddie kept his eyes squarely on his target as he slammed the glass on the bar behind him. “Then I guess I’d better go save him.”

Eddie hated the dance floor; there was a reason he’d been avoiding it all night. It was overwhelmingly hot and crowded and too loud to hear anything beyond the pounding of the bass under their feet. He’d never held much love for clubbing in his twenties and he certainly held no affection for it now. He was here to celebrate the birth of a mutual acquaintance and save his best friend from embarrassing himself from being too nice to realize when he was being hit on.

How the mighty have fallen, Chimney had teased him the first time the waitress at their usual place pouted over not getting his number. Buck hadn’t even noticed that she was dropping obvious hints about what time she got off work and whether his apartment was close by. He’d just answered her questions respectfully, turning back to his conversation with the table until Chimney had finally slapped him upside the head for being so oblivious.

None of us what Playgirl Buck to make a reappearance but that was just pathetic.

Eddie had never seen the so-called ‘Buck 1.0’, only the lovelorn 2.0 who’d lost his girlfriend long before he realized, and struggled to find solid ground in the midst of rediscovering his priorities. He liked that Buck – there was a reason they’d become such fast friends – but even he had to admit that the man had lost his game.

“Eddie!” He couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face when his friend shouted his name over the thrumming music. “Come join the land of the living.”

“Actually, I came to drag you back to the land of the dead. We’re taking Christopher to the zoo in the morning, remember?” Buck seemed to miss the way the woman he was dancing with instinctually stepped away at the mention of the little boy. Eddie did not.

“Fine,” the blond sighed, though his face showed no signs of being put out. That was something that Eddie had admired in his friend from the very beginning: his unabashed love for Christopher. That kid was possibly the most loveable creature on the planet but the way Buck cared for him was a beacon in the darkness of space. “I’ll just say ‘bye’ to Albert.” With that, he’d disappeared into the crowd, leaving Eddie surrounding by sweaty, noisy, thrumming twenty-somethings, without anyone to save him.

Okay, so the music wasn’t that bad. And the crowds – while plentiful – were keeping a respectful distance (he wasn’t getting jostled about, nor was he being judged for using the word ‘jostled’). In fact, it had a pretty good beat to it. He could probably find the rhythm and dance to it, if he wanted to. It wasn’t awful in here after all.

The hand between his shoulder blades made him jump. “Ready to go?” Oh, thank goodness.

With one last wave to his fellow old fogeys at the bar, he followed Buck out of the crowd and into the cool night air.

It was always cooler outside than in some noisy club but in point of fact, it was a warm California summer, dulled by the lights of the city which overtook the starless black sky. Nevertheless, Eddie found himself drawn to Buck for warmth (or so he convinced himself). It had nothing to do with the comfort and ease he felt with the other man, content at his side in a way he never realized he could feel with another person.

He’d accepted some time ago, that he was ready to begin dating again. Life after Shannon was still boiling over with guilt and loss, but he had started to wonder – thanks to some helpful sessions with his work-mandated therapist – that sharing that grief with another person would help the healing process. So, he’d begun to look at the world with fresh eyes; almost immediately, those eyes had fallen on his best friend. The man who’d been by his side since their first meeting, protecting his son, comforting him through unspeakable loss, leaving (as they always did) but coming back.

He couldn’t quite put a word to how he felt for Buck, but if there was going to be a reason to reenter the dating pool, it would be to figure out what that word was.

So, yes, he may have found comfort in leaning against Buck’s side long ago, but he was now acutely aware of how often he did it, and how much he enjoyed it. It wouldn’t be a grand feat to place his arm around the other man’s waist, or let Buck put his hand on his shoulder. In fact, he found the urge to pull himself closer grew stronger the more he let his mind wander.

There were just one or two things he had to get out in the open, first.

“Hey, Buck” he spoke as casually as a man with a singular focus could speak. “If I wanted to ask someone out, what do you think is the best way to do it?”

Eddie tripped over his feet when Buck stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face his friend with laser-focused intensity. There was something etched there – concern? Jealousy (he wouldn’t dare to think)? Excitement?

“You got someone in mind?”

He couldn’t know, could he? Was he so obvious that one question revealed his secret? It was better to test the waters first.

“I do, actually. It’s a coworker; a friend.”

Buck hissed in discomfort, shoving his hands into his pockets with enthusiasm. “That’s tricky. Trust me when I say that sleeping with your coworkers is dangerous.” His shocked expression must have been as evident as his longing, because Buck chuckled a moment later. “Not at the 118. It was before I moved to LA and definitely a mistake.”

It was not as reassuring as Buck seemed to think it would be.

“So you don’t think I should go for it?”

“I didn’t say that, just” Even his non-committal shrug was cute. Eddie was doomed. “Be careful, I guess.”

What was he supposed to do, now? How could he test the waters knowing Buck was hesitant to dip his toe in? Perhaps he should just abort the whole mission and go back to caring too deeply for a man who’d come to mean the world to him.

He couldn’t blame Evan Buckley for turning him into a sap, but his presence in his life certainly hadn’t helped his natural inclinations.

“So…” Eddie startled when Buck bumped his shoulder. They’d been walking towards his truck – parked far enough away from the bar that he’d briefly contemplated just walking from home – for a few minutes while he lost himself contemplating whether or not to follow Chimney’s advice and just ask him out, already.

“So what?”

“Do I know this person you want to ask out?”

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to find out if the rumors of an entrance to Hell in Pasadena were true.

“Yeah, actually, pretty well.”

“So it’s someone we work with.” Buck bounced along the sidewalk, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Interesting. What’s your game plan?”

He was wrong; this was hell. This moment, walking beside his best friend on a random Saturday evening, was the definition of hell.

“I don’t really have a plan” he admitted, realizing in that moment, how close it was to the truth. Alarm bells began to chime with a reminder that this was a bad idea. Yet, still, he persisted.

“Then you’re in luck because I am here to help.”

“I’m sorry, when was the last time you went on a date?”

Buck made a disgruntled face, hidden by his smile, the way he did whenever Eddie teased him. He’d long ago catalogued the way his facial expressions changed depending on which of their friends was doing the teasing. This look was his one of his favourites.

“It’s been a while” thirteen months and nineteen days (not that Eddie was counting) “but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think that’s exactly what it means.”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

More warning bells clattered through his, admittedly, less fuzzy brain, but for some reason – which, to this day, he still isn’t sure of the reason – Eddie ignored them.

“Fine. What’d you got?”

The man punched his hand in excitement, fairly skipping down the street now; eyes aglow with enthusiasm (or perhaps it was just the smog).

“Okay, so, first of all: do you know if they’re interested?”

If that wasn’t that the million-dollar question on Eddie’s mind. “I’m not sure. I know they’re open to the possibility of dating, but they haven’t made any signal that they’re interested in me specifically.”

“That’s okay. Now you just have to woo them.”

He hadn’t meant to laugh so loudly, but it was impossible to know what Buck would say next on any given day; and tonight was no exception.

“Woo?”

“Yeah,” The firefighter plowed on with his usual fervor. “you know: you spend time with them, give them gifts, take any opportunity you can to touch them.”

“Touch them, how?”

They hadn’t stopped walking, but Eddie found himself dizzy from the realization of how slowly they were moving – how close they were. They were always comfortable standing shoulder to shoulder but suddenly, it was too much and not enough. The space under his collarbones grew incredibly hot.

“Just little things.” Buck bumped his friend’s shoulder with more purpose, rubbing the fabric of their shirts together. “A shoulder touch, a hand on the small of the back,” he demonstrated with a move that startled Eddie with its certainty. “Any chance you get, create a physical connection.”

They’d all but stopped walking now, Buck’s hand cupping his back, his own traitorous limbs reaching out to hook into his friend’s jeans. If he pulled hard enough, maybe he could make Buck gasp the way he did in his head when they-

Buck seemed completely oblivious to the stretch of rope between them; anticipation pulled taut. His smile was as calm and eager as ever, so proud that Eddie was a hands-on learner.

If only he knew how hands-on.

“Does it work?” Eddie found himself hoping for a very specific answer that he wouldn’t dare spell out, even in his mind.

“It always works for me.”

The pair hadn’t separated, though the moment was long past over. Yet, Buck still smiled, unaware of how close he was to everything changing.

That was the chink in his normally confident armor. He wasn’t worried that Buck would hurt him, or that they would lose their friendship if things went south – he wasn’t even concerned with how their work dynamic might be altered by the addition of a more personal relationship in a high stress job. It was that things would change; things, which he’d only barely gotten a handle on. Sharing a bed, sharing aspects of his private life, trusting and opening up more than he already had with Buck. And it would all happen at once. He hadn’t been a wonderful partner the first time around; there was no guarantee he’d get it right now.

When did Eddie start thinking of Buck on par with Shannon?

“So” he cleared his throat but hadn’t found the courage to let go of Buck’s belt loop (nor had Buck removed his hand from the small of his back). “spend time, give gifts, and touch them. Then what?”

“If they’re receptive to all your advances, then you just have to go for it.” Buck nodded unhelpfully. “Ask them out.”

“Why is that everyone’s advice?” Eddie grumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He was doomed. “So when you say ‘spend time together’, do you mean like how we’re taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow?”

The way Buck tilted his head in contemplation shouldn’t have been as endearing as he found it, but at that point, there was nothing to do but admit that he was a goner for everything that man did.

“Yeah; or how I let you drag me to baseball games.”

“I don’t drag you” Eddie lied.

“I’m not going for the overpriced beer and popcorn.” It was an admission that gripped his heart with something akin to hope.

“And giving gifts. Like that skateboard you found for Christopher?”

“That was mostly for Christopher” Buck conceded, still only a tantalizing breath away and none the wiser. “But yeah. Or when you fixed my bike on your day off. It’s the little things that mean the most, right?”

He hadn’t spent two hours learning how to repair Buck’s broken line in order to see the smile on his face, but the hug he received was well worth the blood, sweat, and swearing.

“And touching?”

He was a fool for asking but he was worse for wishing he didn’t have to. For wanting to have the power to kiss and press and hold whenever he wanted without having to go through the stress of risking his heart.

The worst was wondering if Buck looked down at his lips intentionally or if it was a simple reflex.

“Touch can be as simple as brushing shoulders.” He half-expected the man to demonstrate the way they had been for so many months, but his fingers curled against the fabric of Eddie’s sweater as if willing himself not to. “Or it can be a welcome hug, sitting next to them when there’s space to be apart.” He didn’t need to catalogue the library of examples he had because each touch had been seared into his skin since he realized it was an option. Standing this close, Eddie was certain he could see the same memories flashing through Buck’s eyes, the warmth of their breaths mingling together like smoke in the breeze.

It would be so simple now: reach out and steal that first kiss he’d been craving all night. And it would taste sweet. Buck was always going to taste sweet but he’d also tried some artsy blueberry ale and the scent of it still lingered. He could close his eyes and pretend they’d always been kissing; pull him close and never let go.

But he’d never steal their first moment together. It was meant to be shared, to enjoyed equally and with the same longing enthusiasm; he needed to take the plunge first.

“And then you ask them out?”

“Exactly.” Buck, endearingly oblivious Buck, smiled proudly at his protegee and tilted his head away, still not leaving the safety of their bubbly but no longer engaged in their battle of wills that he didn’t realize he’d won.

How was Eddie meant to resist?

“Go out with me?”

“Just like that. I doubt they’ll say no.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped to the ground and rolled into on-coming traffic. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Buck furrowed his brow in confusion. “Yes, that was a straightforward way of asking someone out.”

There were many times in his career as a firefighter that Eddie had to control his expression for the unbelievable things people said to him on a call – some were awful, some where hilarious, others were just ridiculous – and he was quite proud of his ability to school his features in the face of adversity. He was never prepared to use that super power while off the clock.

“Are you serious?” He gaped at Buck with pure confusion and disbelief – and no short measure of disappointment. “Is this your way of turning me down or did you really not know?” He couldn’t decide which was worse – yes, he could, but he was still fighting his traitorous heart beating out of his chest at the realization of what he was about to reveal.

“Not know what?” It genuinely was so innocent.

With his last ounce of will power, Eddie released his friend’s belt loops and guided him backwards. Cold air hit his chest and he was reminded of how exposed they were in this moment – not only from the elements but from his heart, as cliché as it was. Buck seemed reluctant to release the grip on Eddie’s now-rumpled shirt but he did it, and the space became even greater as he mourned the loss of being completely surrounded.

He needed the room to offer his heart.

“Buck, I was trying to ask you out.”

Silence; the passage of time marked only by the widening of his friend’s eyes.

“Oh.” Realization. “Oh.” Comprehension.”

His heart crumbled. “Yeah. But, I understand that you’re not inter”

“I am.” The panic was surprising but the sincerity knocked him off-center. “I definitely am.” With every rambled word, Eddie was forced to lean back from the sheer gravity of Buck’s energy. “I had hoped and then I had stopped hoping and then you wanted advice and I thought I’d missed my chance and then I got so caught up I thought I was misinterpreting everything and I didn’t want to assume but I also really, like, being close to you, Eddie and if this was my only chance then I was going to take it but it seems like it might not be my only chance unless I’ve completely blown my shot which I might have because I don’t think I’ve ever rambled this much – why can’t I stop talking, Eddie, I’m never like this, I promise – I think I’m realizing in real-time just how much I screwed up what is probably the best thing in my life”

“You didn’t screw up anything.” The urge to laugh at the breathless man before him was smothered by throwing both hands over Buck’s mouth. “You didn’t screw up a damn thing. Though the rambling is new.” He allowed a chuckle to escape and it seemed to ease the tension in his friend’s shoulders. Everything fell silent again as Eddie stared into those bright blue eyes filled with what he finally recognized as the same hope he’d been carrying around.

“Go out with me, Buck?”

Without missing a beat, the other man nodded vigorously beneath Eddie’s hands, feeling the smile stretch wide.

“Good. I’m glad.”

A warm hand circled his, gently pulling his hand away from Buck’s mouth but never straying far from his face; the smile had turned a familiar shade of cocky and cute – though the latter was a newer realization.

“So I guess my technique worked, huh?”

Eddie gaped in some horrible mix between genuine offence and pure joy. The little-how could he-did he think-why would he-he’s trying to-

“Shut up” he floundered, using their joined hands to push Buck’s chest away, though the other man never released his grip and with a simple tug, he found himself back in their familiar bubble. Not safe from the cruel reality, but secure in their new truth and warmed by hope.

“Make me.”

He had every intention of doing just that.

[stydiaeverafter]

Will you be my Valentine?

Summary: Everyone knows that Evan Buckley is not a fan of Valentine's Day, but with the help of his buddy Christopher, Buck has a change of heart.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to all the Buddie fans out there! This fluffy fic is for all of you. ♥

Read on ao3

***

It had been an ordinary day; nothing special, nothing unique as the team sat upstairs watching TV on a day that might've been a holiday. The one that Hallmark makes bank from. Yeah, Valentine's Day. Again, nothing special. And no, Buck wasn't bitter about it.

He had recently tried to get back in the field, the dating field, and it had been explosive...not in a good way. The kind where someone screamed, "Bomb!" and you went running in the other direction.

Not good.

Buck had recollected for days why on earth it had been such a disaster. The date itself hadn't gone poorly, but he realized he hadn't been ready. Dealing with himself and family drama was one thing, but his heart had felt icy.

However, as he saw Eddie walk into the room, he knew that wasn't exactly true, especially when Buck felt like he was melting.

See, this man had become the axis to every point on Buck’s scattered map of a life.

Buck wanted to ignore the feelings knowing damn well his best friend would never see him in that light, but the emotions were something he could never entirely ignore. The truth of the matter was this: Buck had had these feelings for Eddie Diaz for as long as he could remember, and it took almost dying in the building, talking to his therapist, a comment by firefighter TK, and going on a date for them to surface to realization.

What was a single, not so straight, firefighter to do in this situation?

Instead of figuring out that million-dollar question, he shot a shit-eating grin towards the guy, unable to control it even if he had wanted to, "Hey there, Eddie, you sure look chipper today."

"Well, of course," Eddie replied as he fixed his suspenders, not that Buck was looking, "it's Valentine's Day!"

Buck's eyes narrowed, "Since when did you become such a fan of this gruesome holiday?"

Hen glared at Buck and then smiled at Eddie, "Ooo! Are things going that well with Ana?"

Great. The question Buck really didn't want to have asked by the guy. Could they just not go there? Because honestly, that was another reason Buck had decided to go on a damn date in the first place.

After he had found out Eddie had felt a spark or whatever Chimney had told him after their encounter with Christopher's former teacher, Eddie had asked her out. Not that Buck had been jealous or anything, but he had decided maybe he too should get out and see what fishies were still swimming in the waters, even during a pandemic.

It had nothing to do with jealousy. Not in the slightest.

Buck realized while being lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard Eddie's reply. Buck looked up at that ruggedly handsome man and waited for the response that would probably slice him into tiny pieces.

Eddie cleared his throat, "Um no. That didn't work out." When Hen and Chimney started to say, "aww..." Eddie shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. Truly. Miss Flores is a wonderful woman, just not the one for me." Buck's heart started fluttering in his chest, and was he mistaken in noticing that Eddie looked right towards him when he had said, not the one for me?

Was this Buck's hopeful heart playing games with him? Cue the Backstreet Boys: Quit Playing Games with my Heart.

"So then enlighten us, firefighter Diaz, why so cheerful on this day?" Chimney asked. "I mean, I have a wonderful love of my life and a baby on the way, but you don't see me jumping for joy because it's Valentine's Day."

"Which is a surprise," Hen replied, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you, Chim?"

"Nothing! I just think this holiday is a corporate holiday that makes singles feel bad about themselves. Then the chocolate and card company make a fortune," Chimney responded, rubbing his head, "I believe love, true love, should be shown for 365 days."

Hen patted his back, "You're a good one, my friend. I'll give you that. Maddie is lucky to have you."

"Karen, too," Chimney said with a smile, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Okay, as much as I love what's happening with this bromance here, can we get back to the matter at hands, aka Eddie, and why he's so cheerful on this most hollow of days?" Buck exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes," Chimney acknowledged, "do carry on, Edmundo."

"Right," Eddie smirked, "Well, Christopher wanted it to be a surprise, but he made each of you a special Valentine last night. He got so creative. Our house looked like what I can only imagine the inside of Hallmark cards to look." He shook his head, smiling again, "Chris has been working hard on handwriting, building that strength in his hand and all. So he's bringing them by soon."

Buck's heart filled with so much joy he stood up quickly, "Seriously? Why didn't you say so sooner? Oh, my little buddy! That's too sweet."

"Yeah, so he should be around soon," Eddie looked around and frowned. "However, it's not decorated around here. Usually, Cap' goes all out."

Hen just shrugged sheepishly, "He and Athena took a few days off to be all lovey-dovey with each other."

"Okay, okay," Buck said, pretending to gag, "that's like my father you're talking about—let's not get into the details about their love life."

"I'm just saying that Cap' is usually the one who organizes the decorations," Hen replied, waving her hands. "You've seen how he goes all out for other holidays."

"Well, all I know is that Chris will be mildly disappointed when he sees it," Eddie sighed. "I'm going to run out and get some balloons and maybe some desserts real quick."

"I'll go with you," Buck instantly said. When all eyes went on him, he just smiled, "What, I can adapt to the holiday, okay?" They all knew he hated Valentine's Day, so Buck just laughed. "Well, if it's for my favorite little buddy, I can adapt. How about that?"

Everyone joined in, and Eddie nodded, giving Buck one of those rare smiles of his, "C'mon then, Buck. Let's try our best, but probably sad attempt, to make it lovey-dovey in here."

With Eddie smiling at him that way, that wouldn't be too hard to manage.

***

After two bags of decorations, treats, and an armful of heart balloons, Buck and Eddie made their way back to the station. They were laughing about this-and-that, as they always did, but Buck could feel the air around them changing. But perhaps Buck was the one who had changed, not them.  

As Eddie drove, Buck couldn't help but look at his best friend's beautiful features; it took his breath away, not for the first time, nor would it be the last.

"So, I'm sorry it didn't work out with the teacher," Buck said, unable to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

"Isn't that what people say when something goes wrong?" Buck shrugged, feeling slightly stupid.

"Nah, man, it's cool. Nothing went wrong," Eddie looked over at Buck. "But like I said back at the 118, she wasn't the one."

Buck took a deep breath, "I just know you felt a spark for her and all..." Why was he pushing this further? Did he want to stab his own heart?

"Yeah, I think I was mistaken about who I was feeling that spark for..."

Eddie was smiling at him and then looked back at the road.

Okay, was this all in Buck's mind, or was Eddie talking about him?

"Besides, I heard your date didn't go too well," Eddie smirked as he gripped the wheel. "So should I be saying sorry?"

"You could say that, but nah, I'm not sorry about it," Buck replied, rolling his eyes. "Guess I'm not ready to get back out there. Not in the way I used to be." Because now all he wanted was his best friend—he was ready for that, Buck knew it. Eddie was different. He wasn't like anyone else. In some ways, in most, Eddie was Buck's other half. And as cheesy as it sounded, he completed Buck.

"Oh." The way Eddie had said the word turned Buck's head in his direction. Eddie looked slightly disappointed. "Well," Eddie added, clearing his throat, "you need to do what's best for you."

You're what's best for me, Buck thought, wanting to scream from the rooftops. After all, Buck had promised his therapist he wouldn't hide his feelings away, and the last thing he wanted to do was hide from Eddie. Still, fear of ruining their relationship held him back.

The outcome was like a box of chocolates, and to quote Forrest Gump, "You never know what you're gonna get."

***

After some decorating by the 118, Carla and Christopher finally made their way to the station.

Buck, luckily being in the Diaz family bubble, was able to give Chris a big hug. "Hey, buddy!"

"Happy Valentine's Day, Buck!" Chris said with a wide grin full of braces. Buck still couldn't believe how big the kid had gotten; he wanted to slow time down. "It looks perfect in here!"

"Very beautiful and festive," Carla said, blowing a kiss towards Buck and the others. "You all did well!"

Eddie smiled at Buck and nodded in appreciation.

"Looks a bit like a Pepto Bismo explosion," Chimney muttered, which brought laughter all around.

"You know you love it," Buck said as he put an arm around Chimney.

Chimney grinned, "You're right. I do. Just don't tell Maddie."

"The secret is safe with me." Chimney's eyes widened at the word secret, "Relax, Chim. No more secrets for you to keep." His friend blew out the breath he had been holding.

"Anyway," Eddie said, with a shake of his head, "Chris, why don't you show them why you came down here."

"Okay, dad," Christopher said, reaching into a large decorated Valentine's bag. "I brought you each a special Valentine." As everyone said a collective, "Awee," in response, Christopher looked pleased, which was all they wanted in the first place.

Christopher made his way to each person. Buck was last. Everyone was now talking and eating treats, so Buck took Christopher over to where it was a bit quieter.

"You're last because you're my favorite," Chris said, warming Buck's heart up, not for the first time.

"You're my favorite, too, buddy. Thank you!"

"Here's your Valentine," the little boy said, handing Buck a big pink, purple, and blue, wobbly-shaped heart. It was perfect.

Buck kneeled and opened it up and read, "To my Buck. I love you so much. You're my best friend in the whole wide world. Happy Valentine's Day! Love, Christopher."

This message meant the world to Buck, more than the kid would ever understand. Blinking away tears, Buck smiled, "Thank you, Christopher. I love it, and you." He looked down at the picture. "Tell me who's in the drawing here."

"Oh, that's you, me, and daddy, of course." He looked up and grinned at Buck, "My family."

In the drawing, they were all holding hands with a giant colorful heart above them. This drawing touched Buck in another way. They were his family, too—the one he had created. After all the crap with Buck's own family recently, this was the family that mattered. They were more real to him than his biological family would ever be.

There was also the fact he was in love with his best friend, but he would save those thoughts for himself. But his heart would always remain theirs and theirs alone, just like the picture captured.

"This means so much to me, Chris. Thank you."

"One more for you," the little boy added, reaching into his bag.

"Oh? From who?"

"From dad, even though it's a secret."

Buck's eyes widened as Christopher handed him another Valentine.

"Dad was showing me how to cut out the hearts, and then I told him he should make one," Christopher said. "He had already given me my Valentine, so I told him to make it for someone else that he loves, someone who's very special to him. So he made it for you."

Buck swallowed, and his hands began trembling as he held it. "Does he know you're giving it to me?"

Christopher shook his head, "Nope! But Valentine's is a time to spread love, so that's what I'm doing." He looked over at the celebration, "Why you look at it, I'm going to join the party, okay?"

"Ah, yeah," Buck said, lost in thought. "Go for it, kid! I can see a cupcake that's calling your name!"  

As Christopher hurried over to the sweets, Buck sat there by himself, looking at the heart in his hand. Finally, he opened the Valentine, and with a deep breath, Buck read:

Dear Buck,

Happy Valentine's Day! I know you don't care for this holiday any more than I do, but I'm sitting here with Chris while he makes his Valentine's and he told me to write it to someone special in my life. Well, you're someone special, you always have been. I wanted to say thank you for all that you do for us. You're not just my best friend; you're so much more. You are our family. We love you. Also, thank you for being an anchor in my life and never, ever giving up. I admire you more than you'll ever know.

With love always,

Eddie

Buck didn't realize he was crying until he saw a droplet fall onto the Valentine. In one hand, he had Christopher's card, and in the other, Eddie's. Both their hearts in his two hands.

Quickly wiping his eyes, Buck stood up and looked over at his best friend and the focal point of his life.  

Eddie was holding Christopher, and his son was smashing a cupcake into his face. Everyone was laughing and clapping, clearly enjoying the moment. Buck couldn't help but smile, too.

And right when Buck felt that immense love for the guy, Eddie glanced over at him and beamed. It was the smile that took your breath away.

Eddie took his breath away, always, and Buck wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Buck didn't know what he was doing, but hours upon hours staring at Eddie's Valentine brought him to the Diaz doorstep.

Before his nerves took him running in the other direction, Buck knocked lightly on the door.

Eddie opened the door wearing a green hoodie and black workout pants, his hair wet and tousled. He looked so beautiful that Buck's brain went on overload, short-circuiting out completely.

"Hey Buck, I wasn't expecting you tonight," Eddie said in surprise but still looking happy.

"Yeah, sorry, it's kinda late. I just wanted to say thank you for the Valentine."

Eddie frowned slightly, "What Valentine?" Buck held up the paper heart that Christopher had given him, and Eddie's eyes widened, "Oh, that one. Chris gave it to you?"

"He sure did," Buck said, and trying to lighten the mood, "I'm guessing you were waiting for that perfect opportunity to give it to me?"

Eddie smiled softly, "Well, yeah..."

"Who knew you felt this way for me?" Buck smirked, but he felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest when Eddie didn't add anything further. He swallowed before asking, aka jumping off the ledge, "Do you feel this way for me?"

Biting his lip, Eddie said, "Remember how I said I felt a spark, but it wasn't for Ana?"

Yes, Buck remembered; he couldn't get the thought off his mind. "Yes."

"Well, I realized the spark I felt was for someone else," Eddie breathed out in a whisper. He then looked up to meet Buck's gaze, "You."  

"You feel it with me?"

Eddie nodded, "Yeah, Buck, I do, every day." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, "I've known it for a while, I just didn't realize I was ready to move forward. However, a talk with Bobby helped me a lot. But then I also didn't think you were ready to date, let alone with a guy...me, so I tried with someone else, and it went exactly as I thought it would, nowhere."

Buck took a step closer on the porch towards Eddie, "Well, I'm not ready to date just anybody. But you're not anybody, Eddie."

"So...you feel the same?"

Nodding with a smile, Buck said, "Yes, I do." Then he admitted the truth, "I got jealous when you went on a date with Miss Flores, and I didn't understand why. It pushed me to try and date some random, but the whole time I wanted to be with you."

"I wish you would've told me that—I would have never agreed on a date with her."

Buck trembled, "I'm working on not hiding my feelings, but this is huge. I mean, how do you tell your best friend you're in love with him?" The declaration had come before even Buck had realized.

"You're in love with me?"

"I am, yes."

"Am I the first guy you've..."

"Felt this towards?" Buck asked. Eddie nodded. "Yes, that would be a yes. I didn't even realize...."

"That's okay, Buck, it's more than okay," Eddie smiled reassuringly, taking Buck's hands into his own, supporting him. "I realized it too, with you. You helped me through an awakening of my own, and I don't want to look back."

Buck felt as if he were floating, "Really?"

"Yes, Evan. I'm in love with you, too."

"So, where do we go from here?" Buck asked, holding on tightly to Eddie's hands, never wanting to let go.

"How about we start with the obvious," Eddie responded, gazing into Buck's eyes. "Evan Buckley, will you be my Valentine?"

Buck laughed, but his heart felt warm and light, "Yes, Eddie Diaz, I'll be your Valentine."

And as they sealed the first moments of their future together with a kiss, Buck realized Valentine's Day wasn't so bad after all.

[potterbite]

With me, you are safe

Wow, so this got away from me. Here’s 2500 words of Buck falling in love in Montana, why he went to Peru and a disastrous date in present day. Eddie to the rescue!

On AO3. 

***

He first met Johnny when working at a ranch in Montana. 

He was searching the country for the parts of himself that were missing, hoping to find them if he just tried hard enough, ignoring the sadness pounding inside him at every heartbeat. 

Johnny was a few years older and had something rugged about him that appealed to Buck.  Maybe it was those eyes that seemed to gaze into your soul, or that blatant confidence in everything he did. Nevertheless, Buck quickly found himself navigating towards the other man, happy to have finally found a friendly face that saw him for who he was. With Johnny around, somehow, the emptiness did not feel as overwhelming. 

They’d gone out for a few beers one night when Johnny took his hand under the table, interlacing their fingers. Surprised, albeit pleasantly so, Buck had looked up at the older man to see that confident smile plastered on his face, and Johnny had surged forward for a kiss that Buck was not expecting but somehow did not rattle him even a little bit; it felt good. 

The following weeks were a jumble of stolen kisses during the day and sleepless nights under the stars. 

Johnny left a few weeks later, promising Buck they would meet again and that he’d get in touch as soon as he had found this new place he was searching for. Buck had realized that a lot of the guys at the ranch carried that same sadness he himself did and was not surprised that Johnny felt it too. The restlessness. 

So he let Johnny go, and Buck left the ranch some time after, continuing his journey in the jeep that had somehow become the one constant in his life. Maybe he felt a little less empty, some space inside of him filled with a new feeling; hope for the future. 

He didn’t tell Maddie about Johnny in his letters; he was worried that if he wrote it down it would become something tangible instead of those amazing, blurry weeks that felt plucked from a dream. Someone else’s dream. 

Ten months went by before he heard from Johnny again, and at that point Buck had even tried to forget his time at the ranch altogether by dating the girl who taught him to surf.

Neither of those things worked out, the girl less so than the surfing.  

Johnny’s text was short, but still had Buck’s heart beating a mile a minute. 

Meet me in Peru. I miss you.

Buck left the country three days later, no questions asked, and nothing with him except for a backpack and his swelling heart. 

Meeting Johnny again felt as if no time had gone by at all, and Buck was soon caught up in the whirlwind. When Johnny looked at him it made him feel as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered and Buck was addicted. Needed to be where Johnny was. So he took a job at the same bar Johnny worked in, figuring he should at least get some use out of that bartender knowledge.

When Johnny left again, it was just as abrupt as it had been back in Montana. This time though, it hurt much more. At the ranch, Buck hadn’t fully understood how swept up in Johnny he was. He still didn’t, but somehow his gut knew. 

And it hurt. The offhand way he told Buck he had fallen for this ‘awesome chick’ and that they would be going to Florida the very next day. While lying naked in bed with Buck. And the casual way he leaned in for another kiss after that statement, as if everything was just a laugh.

Buck would feel sick afterwards, for months trying to get that dirty feeling out of his body, but he gave his body up to Johnny that night in a way he had never done before. Perhaps he had hoped - no, prayed, that it would alter the other man’s plans. That it would make Johnny feel something real for Buck. 

Nothing changed of course, and he was given the same promise as last time and a tight embrace that made him feel disgusted by himself for enjoying. 

Buck stayed in Peru for a while, not wanting to face reality. Somehow, he could pretend none of it had happened if he kept inside his bubble. Same guests at the bar. Same weather. Same mood.

When he finally left to go back to America, he promised himself that he would never again let someone else make him feel this way; unworthy, belittled and clingy.

---

“Buck?” A hand is shaking his shoulder, fingers warm and tight. Buck blinks twice at Eddie, who’s clearly been trying to get his attention for a while. Everyone is looking at him.

It’s ringing inside his ears, and he tries his best to come back to reality. It’s hard though.

The team got a call for a rescue, an elevator that had gotten stuck somewhere between the twelfth and thirteenth floor and the three passengers inside needed to get out before anyone dared to try and fix it. Easy enough. 

Buck is on rope watch while Eddie goes into the elevator to pick all of them out one by one, but when he gets out through the ceiling with the last man, Buck thinks he’s about to have a stroke.

It’s Johnny.

Silence presses on for a few precious seconds, but then Johnny (inevitably so) meets Buck’s eyes and a brilliant smile forms.

“Evan!” Johnny exclaims loudly, and Buck is vaguely aware of everyone stopping with whatever they’re doing to watch this scene unfold. He desperately wants to leave. Buck was always Evan back then, and Johnny is no different. 

“Hey, Johnny,” he forces out. 

The other man opens his mouth to say something, but Eddie cuts him off. “You can catch up later, we need to get off of this elevator.” He doesn’t look at Buck when he speaks, but it does the trick and everyone gets moving again. 

Knowing he can’t avoid it, Buck joins Johnny on the edge of the open ambulance. The team is close by, but still far enough that he can pretend they aren’t listening. 

“Long time,” Johnny comments, smiling again. And Buck hates how his stomach flutters at that. Hates how he automatically smiles back, his body working on its own accord.

“Yeah. How’ve you been?”

“Good, good.” He looks around, and laughs a bit. “Well, maybe not this precise moment. First time in LA for me.”

Buck nods. Ignores Johnny’s hand that has now landed somewhere on his thigh. “You’ll love it. What brought you here?”

Suddenly Johnny is even closer than before, fingers bunching up the fabric of his pants, breath warm on Buck’s face. “You.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Eddie appears in front of them before Buck has a chance to reply or do anything at all. He’s grateful. 

“Everything alright?” Eddie looks straight at Buck, gaze so intense Johnny might as well have evaporated into thin air. 

Buck nods, not sure he has any words in him right now. Feelings jumbled around like the headphone cord in your pocket, knot upon knot. Butterflies and nausea for Johnny. A warmness somewhere in his abdomen for Eddie. Adrenaline from them both. 

Eddie doesn’t move away and maybe Johnny realizes it’s not a good time to press on because he stays silent. (Or maybe he still doesn’t care.)

“Alright, let’s pack this up,” Hen’s voice says then, looking knowingly at Buck. He gets up, and shivers when he feels Johnny’s fingers brush against his own before dropping. 

Bobby’s eyes are fluttering from Buck, to Eddie, to Johnny and then back again. 

Nobody speaks on the way back to the station, but Buck feels all eyes on him.

---

At the end of that shift, Chimney is the one that brings it up when they are in the changing room.

“So, are we allowed to ask?”

Buck freezes with his eyes inside the locker, hands balling into fists. 

“I guess that’s a no,” Chim continues casually. 

Buck releases a big breath, not sure why he feels so secretive of this past. He turns and leans against the locker instead.

“Johnny and I met in Montana years ago, when I was working at a ranch.” He tries to smile, but isn’t sure it comes out as genuine. Chimney is getting dressed while listening, Bobby and Eddie standing still, observing. 

Buck closes his eyes, feeling the heaviness set in. “Johnny was my first and only boyfriend.” He laughs bitterly. “And he’s also the reason I don’t date men.”

A quiet whistle from Chimney. “That bad, huh?”

Buck doesn’t reply, but his eyes snap open when Eddie speaks. Sounding a bit like he’s… hurt?

“You’ve never told me about him.”

Buck shrugs with one shoulder. “I prefer not to remember it,” he says honestly. 

Bobby steps forward. “Blocking out past memories is not always the way to go. Sometimes we need to face it, learn and grow.”

At this Buck nods. He’s lost for words again. 

---

A text comes later that night from an unknown number, but even so he knows who it’s from without looking.

Grab a drink with me.

And there’s that familiar feeling of being swept away. It’s as if he doesn’t really have a choice, needing to meet up with Johnny as much as he needs to breathe. So he replies, feeling both excited and sickened with himself at the same time, and they decide on a bar. Or rather, Johnny does and Buck has to figure out how to get there without driving.  

Outside of the bar, Buck has to wait for twenty minutes before Johnny arrives. No apologies though, just that blissful tight embrace, hands in under Buck’s t-shirt.

Buck shivers, and he’s not altogether sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

(Not like the shiver he gets when Eddie gives him that soft look. A shiver that makes him want to feed off of that expression for the rest of his life.)

Once they get a table, Johnny orders for the both of them without asking what Buck would like. Johnny was always like that, and it used to make Buck feel important. Still does, but now there’s an added element of feeling uncomfortable. Remembering how small it used to make him feel as well, as if he were depended on this man to help him through life.

The drink is gross, but he downs it in two big gulps. Johnny keeps touching him, not even speaking, and Buck craves it at the same time as he wants to run away from there and never look back. 

(Want it to be someone else’s eyes so close to his, dimples and scruff.)

There’s hands on his thigh, in his hair, on his waist, fingers teasing the zipper, lips wet on his neck. Music pounding loudly. 

Then all at once, he’s so disgusted he stands up, shocking Johnny into a sitting position from where he’d been leaning all of his body into Buck’s.

“I gotta go,” is all he can manage before moving as fast as he can away from there. He’s not yet outside when he remembers he didn’t drive, and for the fraction of a second he feel as if he’s about to cry.

He promised himself he would never let this happen again, yet here he is, years later. 

Eyes a bit blurry, he unlocks his phone and calls the number at the top of his phone book.

“Hello?” Eddie’s whispering, and Buck curses himself for not checking the time. His voice is also kind of groggy, which makes it even worse.

“Shit, I didn’t realize how late it is,” he says in a way of greeting. 

“Buck?” Eddie sounds so confused it makes Buck smile. “It’s fine. I fell asleep reading to Chris.” He’s whispering, but then there’s the sound of a door closing and his voice is normal again. “Is everything alright?”

“I - uh. I kind of need a ride home.”

Silence. 

“Where are you?”

Buck tells him the address to the bar, very close to Eddie’s house, and the jingle of keys is audible before he’s even finished explaining. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly, scared that the answer is going to be no.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

---

Eight minutes later, Buck spots Eddie’s massive car coming down the street before stopping right in front of him. He gets in the passenger seat without a word, and they drive in silence for a few minutes.

Buck frowns when he understands where they are going.

“I can’t crash at your place, Eddie.”

Eddie glances over at him, eyebrows raised. “Sure you can.” He breaks at the red light and turns his head to fully look at Buck. “Carla is watching Chris through video feed for a little while. I need to get home and turn it off before it becomes creepy.”

One corner of Buck’s mouth goes up. “It already sounds a bit creepy.”

The light switches back to green and Eddie drives on. “Hey, it was this or wake him up and you know how grumpy he gets.”

It remains unspoken that the third option of not coming for Buck at all was not really an option. They sit in peaceful silence the rest of the drive. 

---

After telling Carla goodnight, they end up on the couch together, maybe a bit closer than normal, but Buck enjoys the warmth of another body close to his. Of Eddie’s body close to his, he realizes. 

Eddie hands over the bottle of water he grabbed from the fridge before and Buck takes it, just to keep his hands occupied. 

“What happened?” Eddie’s voice is slow and quiet, still forceful. 

Buck fiddles with the label on the bottle. “Johnny wanted to meet up. It was not a good idea.”

He sees Eddie watching him in his peripheral sight. Maybe he tilts the tiniest bit toward him, just ‘cause it feels nice. 

After a few moments, Eddie sighs. “Is it true what you said? About not dating guys because of what happened between you and Johnny?”

Buck shrugs. “I guess. The pros didn’t outweigh the cons.”

He can’t tell if it’s him or Eddie that moves, but somehow they are even closer together on the sofa now, shoulders touching. 

“You really should try it one more time.” He locks eyes with Buck. “It might be worth it.”

For a long while, they sit there watching each other, neither daring to move closer or away, both hoping the other is brave enough to make the call. 

Slowly, Buck lifts his hand and curls it around Eddie’s neck. Eddie sighs and closes his eyes with a smile.