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600 words; post 8x17; they're back in the same house as if it's my fault....

Pepa has gone home and the dishes are done and Eddie is in the shower and Buck is alone with Christopher for the first time in a year and all he can think about is Eddie on the verge of cracking as he lamented the fact that his son has lost yet another person he loves when he's barely a teenager and--

"I'm sorry. That I didn't check in on you properly."

"You checked in," Christopher screws up his face, the same old way he always has when Buck says something he can't register as true.

"Not-- enough," Buck clears his throat. This kid takes up more space on the couch than he used to. Is this couch smaller than the blue one shipped off to Texas? Has Chris gotten that much bigger? "I'm sorry. I know you loved Bobby just as much as the rest of us, and there's no excuse I-- I promised I'd always be there for-- you."

Christopher looks at him. Christopher looks at him and there is a painful amount of Eddie in that gaze, the way it studies, the way it surveys a person and logs-- logs, just-- Buck doesn't even know what, but he knows when Eddie does it, he always finds himself devastatingly seen on the other end.

And Christopher is doing it. Looking at him like that. Surveying.

"It's okay, Buck," he says, like a little boy overlooking a drawn-back sea. "I get it."

"You get...?" It's Buck's turn to be confused, trying his damnedest to control the stinging at the backs of his eyes as he meets Christopher's gaze.

"I loved Bobby a lot," Chris explains deftly. "He was-- really important. To Dad and me. And he, um, helped us a lot. I remember he brought so much food to Mom's funeral that we had to give some to--"

"You gave some to me, yeah," Buck laughs wetly and lowly and Chris smiles this melancholy little quirk of the lips.

"Yeah," he agrees. "And the more I, like, look at it all? It's super obvious how much he did for us even though I didn't always get it when I was little. But it's still different."

"Different from what?"

"Different from you and Bobby," Chris shrugs. "He was family to me, but it's like. Like, for you it's different. For you it's like if I lost you, y'know?"

Y'know. Said so casually and so certainly.

Like if I lost you.

Like if I lost you, he says, in comparison to the man Buck took into his heart as a stable and consistent presence. A man to look up to, to emulate, to steal little bits and pieces from until Buck himself felt whole.

Like if I lost you, Christopher says, and Buck doesn't have any words to respond to that, only a swelling of feeling he's been holding so tightly against his chest that he couldn't even move when Eddie got up in his face less than twenty-four hours ago.

Buck couldn't move when Eddie told him about the night he spent grappling with it all alone in the dark, couldn't create follow-through from the desire in his heart to reach out and grab on, because his hands were numb and stagnant and stuck.

Now, something knocks loose.

Buck tips forward.

He drags Christopher into his arms and tucks his head under his chin and holds on tight through Christopher's quiet little laugh of surprise at the expression.

His voice is rough when he knocks that loose too.

"God, I missed you, kid."

And as a door clicks open down the hall, as steam chases damp hair and a curious, bright-eyed man into the archway overlooking the scene on the couch, mouthing okay? to Buck's quiet nod of acknowledgment, Christopher embraces him back.

"Missed you too, Buck."

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(x) Life is change, cariño. It's unavoidable.

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NEW GIRL 2.15 Cooler

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just saying

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these bitches can really never do a simple apology bouquet it's always gotta be an apology year-long lease or apology child from 800 miles away

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just!! like!! dad!!!!!!

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“You’ve been spiralling, since the funeral, and no one knows how to talk to you about it.” The truth slips out easy when all Eddie feels is anger.

There’s other feelings too, simmering right underneath the surface. Loneliness, maybe. Desperation.

He doesn’t know what Buck is going to say. He used to be able to, but these past weeks have driven them in completely different directions, and he can’t predict where this conversation leads anymore. Buck’s face is emotionless when he speaks up. “Sorry I’m sad that Bobby’s dead.” And that—

Eddie gets all up in Buck’s space then, a hand on his shoulder — a familiar feeling — his finger in his face, and he can’t keep his emotions in check anymore. Not with Buck being like this— so infuriating, so closed off, refusing to acknowledge everything that’s happening, everything that has happened, only daring to look at a portion of it, the fraction of it that Buck can handle.

“You’re not the only one that lost him,” Eddie spits out, and he can feel Buck’s eyes search his own. His breath feels hot on Eddie’s skin, they’re standing so close. “We all lost him,” he says, the anger in his voice easy to pick out.

He wants to cry. Scream, even. Wants to get it into Buck’s head that he is not okay. Hasn’t been in weeks.

Buck doesn’t say a word for a long time, only looks at him, and Eddie wants him to ask. He wants him to ask how it felt to pick up the phone, how it felt to hear the news, and how desperately alone Eddie felt sitting by himself on his bedroom floor with no one to comfort him, no one to cry with him. No one to quench his sobs, only himself.

“We’re all just trying our damn best to get through it!”

He lets go of Buck then, but Buck catches his wrist with his hand. “Eddie, I—” Buck searches for words, not quite meeting his gaze anymore. “I’m sorry. I know.” His hand still carefully clenched around Eddie’s wrist, not letting him get too far away from him.

Eddie’s just about to open his mouth when—

“I-I didn’t want to ask because… I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to picture— I should’ve been with you.” The last part comes out almost as a whisper, and Buck finally looks properly at Eddie again. Sees him.

“You should’ve— what do you mea— I should’ve been here, Buck!” Eddie’s own voice is so loud in comparison to Buck’s soft tone.

And Buck’s eyes looks so sad. Eddie feels like someone is stabbing him in the gut, over and over and over. His best friend isn’t allowed to look like that, ever. “I should’ve been here,” he says then, calmer, quieter, tears pressing hot behind his eyes. One escapes, travelling from his eye down, down, down his cheek.

Buck lifts his hand, the one not still holding onto Eddie’s wrist, and with his thumb he catches the lonesome tear. His hand lingers on Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the delicate touch.

“It’s okay,” Buck whispers, dragging Eddie closer before he’s wrapping his arms around him in a hug. “It’s okay.”

And Eddie falls apart in Buck’s arms. In their kitchen. He sobs into the crook of Buck’s neck, his own hands reaching around Buck’s waist to meet at his lower back. He sobs.

“I should’ve— I should’ve been here, Buck,” he gets out between his whimpers. Buck doesn’t say anything, only lets one hand travel up to Eddie’s hair, burying it in it. And if possible, he holds Eddie even tighter.

They stand like that for what feels like a really long time, until Eddie’s eyes are all dried up, until his body doesn’t feel like his own anymore, until he can barely hold himself up from exhaustion. He’s so tired of feeling like this. Disconnected, lonely, desperate. He pulls slowly away from Buck then, his hands still resting on Buck’s waist.

Buck’s eyes are blotched and red-rimmed, searching for something on Eddie’s face. He can’t quite figure out what until Buck leans forwards and catches Eddie’s lips with his own.

And oh.

Oh.

He doesn’t kiss back, and Buck reels back faster than lightning, takes a step or two backwards, letting go of Eddie in the process. Eddie’s hands fall uselessly down to his sides, without anything to hold onto anymore. Eddie wishes he didn’t stop.

“Buck, I—”

“I’m sorry. I-I, that was, like, really inappropriate, I shouldn’t have— Maddie kept going on about— I mean, that doesn’t even matter, I-I don’t know what came over me, I mean we are supposed to be— I don’t—”

Eddie manages to pull a little smile, just because he has missed the way Buck rambles when he’s nervous, but maybe also a little because he feels like he just cracked the code of the universe. It stops Buck in his tracks completely; he looks like his brain is working overtime to understand Eddie’s facial expressions, and he falls silent as Eddie takes a step closer to him.

“Eddie—”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to say “It’s okay, Buck.”

His hands cup Buck’s face, who looks like he was just struck by lightning. Again. Ha ha.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into the space between them as he leans forwards and kisses Buck. He’s rewarded at once with a sigh from Buck whose whole body loosens up under his touch, like he had been holding his breath for a century and could finally let it out.

Buck’s hands find his waist, and he pulls them infinitely closer, holds him like Eddie is something precious, something worthy. The word catches in Eddie’s brain as his lips drag against Buck’s. Worthy. Maybe he is, after all. Worthy of what, he doesn’t quite know yet. But maybe he can let himself have this, at least.

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911 you have the opportunity to do the funniest thing tomorrow

please. please please. please. you can even send eddie to super-hell, idc. do it. please.

close-ups of the doodles i particularly enjoy :)

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#denial is a river in egypt

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Back to form with Episode 17. Various actual 911 emergencies and actual character work.

Episode 16 was a completely different show and should be struck from the record.

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The way he lights up and his body language with Chris ❤️

Eddie surprising Buck with Chris.

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based on a text post i saw about eddie being reintroduced like they were on a sitcom with a live audience

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Where the fuck was his brother 8.16?

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Happy Star Wars Day! Here’s my other Skywalker Twins comic all in one post!