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you're the only one who understands me mr strobbery
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love the idea of eddie having a Feelings Realisation but still being a little concerned that he might not be into men sexually, like the actual practicality of that, and he doesn't want to risk hurting buck by confessing and then realising that maybe he's not really into it. he couldn't do that to him. but he also doesn't really want to date a bunch of men to find out, because he's just realised he's in love with his best friend and he's not sure he can put that aside long enough to get really into it with another guy. so instead he's letting himself Look at men, consciously, for the first time in his life. he's looking and he's imagining and he's not shying away from it. he's trying to work out how he feels about the reality of it, instead of instinctively pushing it down like he's starting to suspect he's been doing for an awful long time.
meanwhile buck has clocked the way eddie's been contemplatively checking out every guy in the vicinity and he's collapsing in on himself like a dying star
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they should invent a 2025 where good things happen
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happy father's day specifically to that one scene where eddie calls buck a deadbeat dad in the middle of a supermarket for their entire team and the rest of the store to hear and buck stumbles over trying to negotiate visitation "do you know how much christopher misses you? how could you? you're not around" "maybe—maybe i could come visit" you will always be so famous to me <3
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(trying to give relationship advice) from a narrative perspective i think both of you dying together would be the most emotionally satisfying resolution but i’m guessing that’s not what you want to hear
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omggggggg 58 + 60 for the intimacy prompts mwah mwah mwah 🥰🥰🥰

60. sitting in their lap
—
“Dude. I know you heard me call seat check.”
Chim shrugs, tucked into Buck’s spot between Eddie and Maddie on the couch, smugly eating the popcorn that Buck and Eddie had been sharing before he got up to pee. “I heard no such thing.”
“You’re blocking the TV,” Ravi complains, but Buck ignores him.
“Come on, you all heard me. I was only gone for like, three minutes.”
“Wife privilege trumps seat check rules,” Chim argues, tossing popcorn in his mouth with a shit eating grin. He wraps his free arm around Maddie, who’s focused on the movie and studiously ignoring them both.
“That’s not a thing—”
“It is when it’s our first night out of the house since the baby was born,” Chim argues. “Or I could use the captain card if you prefer.”
“Abuse of power,” Ravi mutters, and Buck points to him excitedly.
“Yes, exactly, thank you Ravi!”
“I think you should use it though,” Ravi continues to Chim, and Buck gapes while Chim does a stupid fist pump. “We’re missing the climax of the movie dude. Just sit on the floor.”
“Easy for you to say from your high horse in the comfy armchair. The floor is hard on my leg,” Buck says. It’s only half true, but he’ll use whatever excuse he can to win one over on his brother in law.
“You sit on the floor all the time,” Hen interjects from her spot on the loveseat, curled up cozily with Karen, also ignoring them.
“Irrelevant,” Buck says with a dismissive gesture. “The point is, I called seat check, and what kind of society are we if we can’t even respect the sanctity of—”
And Eddie, who until now had been silently observing with an amused grin, rolls his eyes and sighs, “Dios, come here.”
He wraps a big hand around Buck’s wrist and tugs until he has nowhere to go but Eddie’s lap. Buck falls limply down, trying not to crush him at the last second by throwing an arm across the back of the couch. Eddie situates him across his legs, his back against the armrest next to Eddie, and if he weren’t struck so dumb by the whole thing he would put his feet in Chim’s face just to be annoying.
“Happy now?” Eddie mutters in his ear.
“Uh,” Buck says intelligently.
Eddie’s hand settles on his knee, the other resting behind Buck’s back along the armrest. Everyone’s eyes are on them when Buck looks up, but Eddie’s are on the screen. His cheeks are a little pink, but otherwise he appears normal.
“Wow,” Chim says after a minute. “An instant Buck-Off button.”
“Shhh,” Eddie hushes him before Buck has a chance. “Some of us are watching the movie.”
Chim shakes his head with a short laugh and finally turns his attention back to the screen, and the rest of the room follows suit.
Buck is, ostensibly, also watching the movie, but he has no idea what’s happening. Gun to his head he couldn’t name a single actor in it, despite having watched the last hour and a half before Eddie rewired his synapses. All he can focus on is Eddie, the feel of his chest rising and falling against his arm, his thumb rubbing unconscious little circles against Buck’s elbow, the heavy weight of his hand on his knee.
“You okay?” Eddie whispers after who knows how long, quiet in Buck’s ear.
Buck turns. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim room, his face much closer than Buck anticipated. He nods and tries to get a grip, though Eddie must be able to feel the way his heart is beating with the arm tucked around his back.
“Yeah, I’m great,” he answers softly.
“Sure? I can sit on the floor, if you’d rather not—”
Buck is shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. “No, no, this is — yeah, this is perfect.”
Perfect? He cringes internally, but Eddie isn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact he smiles, soft and pleased and all for Buck, and his heart rate kicks up another notch.
They finish the movie twenty minutes later. Buck’s had to pee for a good fifteen of that, but he refused to get up — he doesn’t have the kind of luck that will afford him a second chance at this. He doesn’t even get up when everyone else stands to stretch and refill their drinks, perfectly content to stay where he is for as long as Eddie will allow it.
Similarly, Eddie doesn’t push him off the second it becomes acceptable to do so. In fact he encourages Buck to stretch his legs out on the couch with a silent pat on his thigh.
“Am I crushing you?” Buck asks when they’re the only ones still in the room.
Eddie shakes his head and gives his knee a squeeze. “Nah. You’re kind of like a weighted blanket.”
Buck flushes and looks away. Feels ridiculous, like he’s fifteen again and being flirted with by Cassie McDaniel in homeroom — except they’re in their thirties, and Eddie isn’t flirting. He’s just being Eddie. The New Eddie, as Buck has coined it in his head; the one that came back from El Paso with a twinkle in his eye that Buck can’t quite parse. He’s the same old Eddie but lighter, somehow — more free with his touches and casual affection in a way that Buck very much enjoys, despite the way it’s slowly driving him insane.
Like now, for instance.
“Your ass is kinda bony though.”
Buck scoffs, affronted, and Eddie laughs. His hand tightens on Buck’s knee when he tries to shift his weight off Eddie’s thighs. “Didn’t say you needed to move.”
“Well I’d hate for my bony ass to dig into your perfect thighs.”
“Perfect, huh?” Eddie teases, and there’s that fucking twinkle again.
“Mediocre. Above average. I know you skip leg day at least once a week.”
“How many times can we have this argument?”
“It’s not an argument, it’s a healthy discussion.”
“Core strength is more important than having huge biceps, and as a firefighter, you should understand that—”
“Well those huge biceps have saved a lot of people, didn’t hear them complaining.”
“I’m definitely not complaining either, but my point is—”
“Are you two gonna cuddle on my couch all night?”
They look up to see Hen standing over them, hands on her hips and brow raised suspiciously.
“Maybe,” Eddie says before Buck can come up with anything. “You got something to say about it?”
“Only that you have your own house to be weird in,” she says with an eye roll. “And that Buck promised to help clean after the fiasco with the fondue last month.”
“Shit, I did,” Buck says, gingerly getting up so he doesn’t hurt Eddie with his bony ass. Eddie squeezes his hip as he goes though and nearly sends him sprawling. He just blinks innocently up at Buck when he whirls on him, self-satisfied little smile on his face that Buck wants to—
Nope. Not going there. He trails off after Hen and decidedly does not think about it.
He doesn’t think about it when Eddie comes in to help clean, hip checking him at the sink. Or when they say their goodbyes to everyone at the door, and Eddie presses little smacking kisses to Karen and Hen and Maddie’s cheeks that he pretends he’s not wildly jealous of. Or when Eddie leads him to the truck with a hand on his lower back, and keeps it there until Buck rounds the hood to the drivers seat. He doesn’t think about it on the drive home, Eddie quiet in that way he gets sometimes after one too many drinks, and he definitely doesn’t stare at Eddie’s ‘perfect’ thighs when he changes into his sleep shorts and sinks onto the couch next to Buck.
“That was fun,” Eddie says, relaxing until his head rests on the back of the couch.
“Yeah. Super fun.”
It’s quiet again, only sound coming from the TV playing on low. Buck keeps his eyes glued to it, though he’s not taking in a single thing Mrs. Brady is saying.
“You’re thinking pretty loud over there bud,” Eddie says during a commercial break.
Buck chances a look at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks so soft, relaxed against the cushions, wearing a baggy tank and shorts that ride up well above what Buck would consider an appropriate length. Buck looks quickly away.
“Hey. I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier, did I?” Eddie asks.
“No,” Buck answers, and forces himself to make eye contact. Eddie looks a little unsure, and Buck quickly shakes his head. “No, I told you it was fine, I promise, I just. I’m tired, I guess. Karen’s sangria always sneaks up on me.”
Eddie nods. “Yeah I know. Wanna share the bed tonight?”
Buck flushes, and this time it’s definitely not dark enough for Eddie not to notice. It shouldn’t be a big deal — they’ve shared the bed a few times since Eddie and Chris came home, usually after a particularly grueling shift where their exhaustion ran too deep to tolerate the couch, and it’s been fine.
Only the last time it happened, he woke up to Eddie curled around his back, hand curled possessively in the front pocket of his hoodie. And in his half-conscious state Buck had thought, this is how I want to wake up everyday. He’s avoided sharing ever since.
“Nah, couch—couch is fine,” Buck stutters.
“Buck. Come on, talk to me, what’s got you so freaked?”
“I’m not freaked,” Buck lies, and turns back to the TV. “I’m not. Just. Brain is too loud tonight, I guess.”
He sees Eddie nod in his peripheral. “Well, I wasn’t kidding earlier you know.”
“About what?”
“You feeling like a weighted blanket,” Eddie clarifies.
Buck’s head snaps to the left. Eddie looks serious as a heart attack — which, incidentally, Buck may be currently having.
“So…”
“So,” Eddie echoes.
He inches closer until their thighs are touching. Buck watches in a weird sort of trance as Eddie twists and swings a leg over, hovering above Buck’s thighs. “This okay?”
Buck unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and says, “Yeah—yes. Yeah.”
Eddie smiles and sits fully, and then they’re just staring at each other. Buck keeps his hands firmly to himself, while Eddie’s rest comfortably on Buck’s shoulders.
“See what I mean?”
Buck blinks, remembers the weird metaphor they’re operating under. “Um, sort of. You’re only—I-I mean there’s only weight on my legs.”
“Good point.”
Slowly, as if he’s anticipating Buck to call their game of chicken and push him off, Eddie leans forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. Buck feels his chin dig sharp into his shoulder before he adjusts and lays his cheek against his collarbone.
“How’s that?” Eddie asks, slightly muffled.
Buck inhales, feels Eddie move with him on the exhale, and it’s — well, Eddie wasn’t lying. Eddie lets his full weight press against Buck and it's comforting, to say the least. Electrifying, because it’s Eddie, and yet as the minutes pass he can feel his heart rate slow, his breathing ease. He feels their chests rise and fall together, Eddie’s warm weight settling him in a way nothing has in a long time — maybe ever. His mind goes pleasantly blank, even when one of Eddie’s hands starts to comb through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“It’s nice,” Buck answers belatedly, and Eddie chuckles at the sleepy timbre of his voice. “I see what you mean.”
“Right?” Eddie says, scratching gently at his scalp, and it feels so good he melts even deeper into the couch cushions. “You can touch me too, you know.”
“Oh,” Buck mutters, and picks his hands up from where they’d been resting awkwardly next to Eddie’s thighs. He wraps them tentatively around Eddie’s back; Eddie makes a contented humming sound in response.
They stay that way for a long time, until the late night rerun ends and another episode begins. Buck’s hands drift after awhile, smoothing up and down Eddie’s back slowly, thumbs rubbing circles against his scapula and vertebrae.
“Hey Eddie.”
He’s half asleep, and Eddie is so big and warm in his arms, and it makes him reckless. Eddie’s ear is so close to Buck’s mouth he can whisper what he hasn’t dared speak out loud.
“Yeah Buck?” Eddie says just as softly.
“I need to tell you something. No – don’t, don’t get up.” He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck to keep him still.
Eddie huffs but stays put. “You’re not about to tell me you’re moving, are you?”
There’s such an air of dread and petulance in his tone that Buck laughs.
“No. Didn’t, uh, know you had such strong feelings about that.”
“Well. I do.”
“It’s not that,” Buck says, and Eddie exhales against his neck. “But you might, uh—you might want me to when I—”
“No I won’t,” Eddie interrupts, leaving no room for argument. “Tell me.”
Buck swallows, hard enough that Eddie must hear it. But he waits patiently, one of his thumbs tracing figure eights on the back of Buck’s neck, and for some reason that is what finally breaks through his thinly guarded veneer.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
The figure eight stutters to a stop, but Eddie doesn’t move an inch. If anything, he covers Buck with his weight even more, somehow, and Buck feels his nose brush his clavicle.
“And you think I want you to move out because of that?”
“I—well, maybe, I don’t want to make you feel—I don’t know. Actually, can we pretend I didn’t say anything?”
“No,” Eddie says. And then nothing else.
“I—Eddie you gotta—you gotta say something. Tell me to fuck off, or that it’ll never happen but you value our friendship anyway, o-or that nothing will change between us—”
“Hmm, no. None of those sound like me.”
“You literally said that last one. Basically verbatim, less than a year ago.”
“Yeah, but I was lying then. I don’t want to lie to you again.”
“Eddie, come on, what does that me—”
But in one swift move Eddie sits up, catches Buck’s face between his hands, and kisses him.
It’s a short kiss, a dry brush of slightly chapped lips, but it manages to alter his entire worldview in the five or so seconds it last before Eddie pulls away. Buck gets a brief glimpse of his pink cheeks before he tucks his head back against Buck’s shoulder.
“There you go sweetheart,” Eddie mumbles, voice drawling the way it does when he’s tired. “My knees have about another five minutes of this before I need to get up, let's not waste them.”
“Okay,” Buck says in a ragged voice that doesn’t quite sound like his. A voice belonging to a mouth that has kissed Eddie Diaz, and therefore irrevocably changed.
True to his word, Eddie continues to crush him into the couch for another five minutes, until his racing heart slows again and their eyes are half-lidded and drowsy when Eddie sits up.
“That was nice,” he says with a smile.
“Y-yeah, it was,” Buck agrees, squeezing Eddie’s thighs. “Same time tomorrow?”
Eddie huffs out a little laugh, and though Buck was half joking, Eddie nods and presses his forehead against Buck’s shoulder. Buck drops a kiss to the crown of his head before he can quite stop himself, and Eddie makes that same happy humming sound Buck wants to chase for the rest of his life.
“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”
—
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If you haven’t changed your url in years tell me why as someone in your same boat it’s for science
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Writing isn't the hobby. Being insane about little fake people is the hobby. Writing is just the only outlet i have for that
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extremely extremely evil thought but the only way i'd write about lab rats would be to make buck die instead
#yay :)#and then buck gets to wake up in his own coffin when it turns out he is not actually *dead* dead whoops#sorry i still maintain buried alive is the correct ending to that arc#and i like it even better if it's buck down there tbh
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reminiscing about the days when we thought eddie was gonna go to texas and get crushed by a tree
#the many beautiful texas arcs that live in all of our minds..#alas they made too much sense and were just too narratively satisfying to become canon 😔
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911 season 6 rewrite where the whole conflict with hen and the madney proposal was just hen going “chim she wears shoes in the house you can’t marry her. please chim she puts her shoes on the COUCH. does she wear shoes in bed? was she wearing shoes when your daughter was conceived? chim please”
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what do you mean you havent used mindfulness techniques to accept the state of the torture labyrinth as is yet. its like youre not even trying
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There really should be more fic where Tommy kisses Eddie instead and Buck gets Worse though.
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sending love to those fighting the job market
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every day i lose another mutual to h5-0 madness...😔
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Calling All Buddie Artists!
We currently have 21 authors signed up to write for the Big Bang across the summer - which is awesome. We are a little uneven on our ratio of authors to artists, though, so we are reaching out to see if some more artists would be willing to sign up. Artists is a broad term here - traditional artists, digital artists, graphic designers, gif-makers, etc. are all welcome! Please share with your fandom artist friends who might be on other platforms. Thank you so much to our artists who have already signed up!
#signal boost#once i am not drowning i am going to write a 20k buddie fic this year#i have a goal#i have a plan#maybe i will manage some summer of buddie prompts in the meantime
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