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Eddie Diaz + Flirting

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Being in your 20s is weird because some of the people your age are marrying and having kids while others are trying to become a saint through asceticism, joining the communist party, attempting to achieve fame in Hollywood, or rejecting their upper class upbringing to be a sex worker in the red light district. Also half of them are roommates because the housing market is shit.

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no one:

absolutely no one:

malthus on every "hilda furacão" episode:

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i have a very fuzzy scene in my head that i want to happen with buck saying i’m sure to eddie in that languid way he does, a bit dazed and his smile in awe of the life he gets to have, but then i have a stronger want for eddie to say it. that he wants this, that he’s sure because he hasn’t been able to want, to get what he needs, to be sure of where things and people stand in his life. i want buck to ask it not because he’s scared eddie might not be and not because he isn’t but because for the first time buck doesn’t need to ask because he is sure

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9-1-1 2.04: Stuck 8.11: Holy Mother of God

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Eddie calls him about ten minutes after he finishes unpacking. And Buck doesn't—panic. He doesn't! He has no reason to panic. Tommy doesn't know a damn thing about him and Eddie. And Maddie, well. She doesn't know anything either. Not this.

Nobody but him and Eddie—and Chris—understand what they are to each other, and that's okay. Buck made his peace with that long ago. Long before he even knew he liked guys. Which. Not that that matters or has any sway on his perception of his and Eddie's relation—friendship. They're just BuckandEddie. Doesn't need to be any more than that. Just his best friend.

All this to say: when Eddie calls, he doesn't panic. He takes a very respectable three deep breaths, tries not to grimace at the leather squeaking under his ass and hits the green button with a hand that absolutely isn't shaking.

Because he's not panicking. He's happy. He's so happy. He gets to talk to Eddie. For the first time since he left. Why would he be panicking? Because of some stupid assumptions from an insecure ex? Sure, right. Like he'd ever let that touch him and Eddie.

Competition, he thinks, like Tommy ever could have competed with Eddie Diaz.

"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time.

"Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?"

And Buck grins. Grins so big his face hurts and he forgets all about the stupid leather couch underneath him. He imagines the two of them unpacking at the exact same moment, finishing in the same breath, still in sync even 800 miles apart. And then the second part of it hits him. Calling Buck his reward for menial, mind-numbing labour. The idea of hearing Buck's voice getting him through all the organising and reorganising and rereorganising. Fuck, he misses him.

"I, uh, I-I actually just unfinished packing too," Buck replies. A beat too late maybe. Doesn't matter. Eddie huffs a laugh, nothing matters but that.

"No shit. Should've known it'd take us a while to shake off the synchronicity." And Eddie's voice is so warm, so fond, it soothes the ache of the inevitable loss of their bond. That special tie between them that never let them stray too far soon to be severed. And then, like Eddie can hear him, "still a team even two states apart, huh?"

"Always a team," Buck replies, too soon this time probably. Doesn't matter. Not when he can hear Eddie's smile.

"How's the house treating you?" he asks, words shaped into something beautiful by the curve of Eddie's lips. But still, Buck's heart drops right out of his ass.

How does he answer that?

I missed you so much I couldn't sleep here without you. I didn't unpack because the house still feels like yours. The house still feels like yours because I wish it was. Yours. I couldn't sleep because you weren't snoring down the hallway. And the one night I did sleep here I had to fuck my ex as a distraction just to try and forget that you should be the one in that bedroom.

But he can't say any of that. He can't.

"Uhhhhhh." He blinks. Has forgotten every word in the English language.

"Buck?" Eddie's smile is gone.

"Why'd you stop talking to Tommy when we broke up?"

Silence. Fuck.

"He broke your heart, Buck," Eddie says slowly, evenly, too controlled. Hiding something. "Why the hell would I talk to him?"

"B-because. You guys were friends before me and him got together."

Eddie's straight. Tommy scoffs. Friends.

"And I promised to have your back five years before I even knew he existed," Eddie replies simply. "There was no competition there, Buck."

Oh. Oh, shit.

"How, um, how did you find out about that anyway?" Eddie asks when Buck's silence stretches on too long. "Not that it was a secret or anything. I just... I didn't tell you because I didn't think it mattered. And I know you didn't call Tommy, so..."

"No, n-no, I didn't call him." And he didn't is the thing. Didn't call him to apologise like he said he would to Maddie. Just. Let it lay.

"What aren't you telling me, Buck?" Eddie sighs. Buck misses his fucking sighs.

"Ravi called him. Well, found him. At the bar. And brought him over."

"Jesus Christ." And Buck can see him clear as day, bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Remind me to send Ravi a strongly worded e-mail on how to be your partner."

Buck kind of really wants to read that fucking email.

"We slept together," Buck blurts out.

Silence. Fuck.

"You and Ravi...?"

"No." Buck barks out a laugh. A startled sound. "No, not Ravi."

"Okay, okay, good," Eddie breathes out. "Because that would not be one of the points of the e-mail." Buck snorts again. Sobers instantly. Gets a sharp little pang in the pit of his stomach. No reason. "So. Tommy."

"Yeah." Buck ducks his head. "Tommy."

"Did you..." Eddie struggles with something for a moment, and Buck finds himself sitting up straighter, bracing for whatever comes next. "I mean, did you... When you... y'know, did you go to his or-or... yours?"

Buck bluescreens. Blacks out maybe. What the fuck?

"Um, y-yours or, no, mine. M-mine. It was closer. To the bar. And I—" And he what? What? What is it lurking in the shadows of his brain, slipping through his fingers like sand every time he thinks he's close enough to hold?

"Okay." Eddie says it like he's taking a punch.

"Is-is that, I mean, th-that's okay, right?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd classify sleeping with your ex as okay." Eddie makes some sort of noise. Half anguished and half furious. "Where the hell does he get off—" your bedroom, Buck thinks deliriously "—hooking up with the guy who's heart he broke?"

"He didn't break my heart, Eddie." Says it. Realises it's true.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"He was scared I was gonna break his, remember?"

"Dumb," Eddie says succinctly. Buck snorts.

"I'm not getting back together with him or anything. It was just a one time thing. You don't have to worry about me showing up on your doorstep to brood again."

Silence. Again. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

"I think I'd be okay with it, if it brought you to my door," Eddie whispers.

Tears sting in Buck's eyes. He presses the bottom of his phone into his forehead until it begins to hurt. Clears his throat.

"How's the fixer-upper?"

Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. But.

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it’s not nothing.

of course it’s not nothing. eddie can’t just feel nothing. of course there’s something. there’s something about leaving LA. about leaving the life that he built here all by himself with people that has surrounded him with so much more love and support that he ever thought he deserved in this life.

about leaving the one person who has showed that the most. about leaving the one person who has been there, had his back, be his partner. about leaving buck.

it’s not nothing. there’s something about leaving buck, but eddie is in the middle of something else. something more important than anything else right now. but it’s not nothing.

when he’s ready, he is going to face that not nothing, that something, about this specific feeling of saying goodbye to buck, about what it says when he inevitably comes back.

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ forget me not.

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You're leaving me? S04E05 vrs S08E10

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(I THINK THAT MUCH IS OBVIOUS.)

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nobody leaves and comes back as exactly who they were when they left. when eddie comes back, he won’t be the eddie that left. hopefully he’ll be the version of him that he needs himself to be.

to be himself, to be free, to be happy, to be the kind of dad he wants to be for christopher, to be the kind of person who chooses joy.

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like evan buckley is not going to touch a damn thing in that house. he’d think about moving something, but then he’d think about it again and return it to how it was, to how eddie had it, how chris and eddie had their house. he’ll try to fix his furniture in there, leave something that’s his, but somehow it won’t feel right because in his head and in his heart, it’s eddie’s, not his. that’s christopher’s room, not a spare room he can ever give anyone else. that’s eddie’s bedroom and he’ll toss and turn in it whether it be his bed from the loft or eddie’s, but one side will always feel wrong because why does it feel like it was supposed to be shared? the kitchen—the not for chefs kitchen, the one just right for the skills of buck and eddie, more for buck than eddie, would also always be eddie’s, it feels wrong to change the layout of the table and the chairs and the couch—the couch, he’s never actually owned a couch that was his own and now it’s eddie’s and when he sits and the other side doesn’t dip it feels wrong. and this house just isn’t his.

except it is. it’s been his, too, longer than he knows, longer than eddie knows. it’s been his since he walked in there seven years ago, not knowing he staked a claim on every part of eddie’s house because he’s right, he’s never been a guest. he helped move some of those tables a few months after they met because he told eddie it looked better that way. he helped him buy some of those vases and lamps and moved in a lot of stuff in christopher’s room that he picked up at garage sales with them. the kitchen has been theirs, a culmination of everything the three of them ever needed for days they cook and eat together.

buck has lived in this house before he even moved in and it feels wrong because there used to be three of them there and now his heart echoes through the walls. it wasn’t meant to be lived in like this. so, when the two inevitably come back and buck decides to move out, he’ll realise then, maybe, hopefully, that he doesn’t need to. because eddie’s house? christopher’s house? it’s their home and they’ll finally know where they all belong.

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yeah my best friend owns the house. oh so you live with someone? no it’s just me here, he’s letting me rent it because he moved back to texas. just moved? yeah i used to have a loft but figured it was the very least i could do to help. a loft? and you have all this stuff must have been a pretty big loft. nah not really and i barely brought any of my stuff. this stuff is all your best friend’s? kind of? he brought things with him but figured it was easier to just buy things there, besides his kid is all grown up now so he probably doesn’t want his old stuff here like the study table, the bed—his kid’s stuff is still here? yeah his room is just right down that hallway, i haven’t moved a thing. do you plan to? on what? moving a thing? why would i? well why would you have a kid’s bedroom in your house? something for when they decide to visit, i guess, it’s easier that way. you just said he probably doesn’t like it anymore—the room stays, just, it’s good like that. and the other furniture, your best friend’s too, right? yeah. easier—like a bonus, came in with the house. and he left it like that? it’s been this way for seven years, it’s his house. it’s yours now. it’s his—-

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eddie knew from the moment he saw buck laugh in that dimly lit bar, so sunny and light and happy and something eddie can never touch or ruin, but he knew. he’s been suspecting for a while before that, but in that moment where his heart leaps to his throat and just before it falls out of his mouth to the floor—scattered and known and ruined, he kept it. swallowed it back. pushed it down. kept in a box with evan buckley’s name all over it kept under a blanket they use everyday because it’s still there, it’s still so present, so visible to eddie, but not to anyone else.

it’s there in a box with broken red glasses and a shirt and kindness offered when he barely knew eddie and a recipe for something sweeter than pancakes and a legal document with his signature on it and his laughter in bottles and his smile in different lit rooms and strawberry pink splotched everywhere and a love eddie knows to be tied down to something or else it’ll float up and it’ll be a matter of time then for it to reach the shore. so he ties it with everything he keeps down there. every supressed emotion, every memory ever forgotten, every feel that he wanted to chase and reach and savour.

he knows it. there’s no denying it. but it’s simply just there now. at the bottom of something else, under that blanket and he’s scared what he’s going to do when he reaches for it now, if he should ever reach for it. he’s scared what else is tied, what else he’ll unearth, what he’ll lose. eddie keeps on losing. he doesn’t want to lose this. he doesn’t want to lose buck.

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"So, where were we?" / "Hey, at least it's not a tsunami, right?"

3x18 / 4x01