#6x10 coda

[messyhairdiaz]

hope is a four letter word

diaz boys - rated g - 2k - 6x10 coda/6x11 spec

Buck’s been in a coma for three days, and Eddie hasn’t slept a wink.

None of them are sleeping well. It’s obvious from the dark circles under each and every eye he can’t quite bring himself to meet. But he knows they’re sleeping. He saw Hen conked out on Karen’s shoulder in the waiting room they’ve commandeered as home base for those not taking their turn with Buck. He overheard Chimney telling Athena he and Maddie haven’t managed more than a few hours total since the accident. He found Bobby at Buck’s bedside, head bowed, perhaps initially for prayer before the inevitability of sleep overtook him.

Eddie hasn’t managed any of it. It’s not for lack of trying. His brain just won’t shut down. Which is funny, really, because it feels like his brain isn’t actually functioning. Today Hen asked him if he wanted a sandwich from the cafeteria and he just stared at her. Couldn’t fathom what a sandwich even was, much less if he wanted one. Ate it when she brought him one even though he didn’t know if he was hungry, or what it tasted like.

All of this to say it’s no surprise to him when he’s on hour four of staring at his ceiling and sleep is still eluding him.

read the rest on ao3

[buddie-buddie]

throw a line out (i am on the way down)

7.2k - m - read on ao3 five times buck answered when eddie said "talk to me," and the one time he didn't

“Buck!” 

He’d know that voice anywhere. 

God, he loves hearing Eddie say his name. There’s something about it, something in the way that Eddie makes it sound special. Reverent. Like a promise. 

He’s heard his name on Eddie’s lips more times than he can count, but it’s never sounded like this. 

“Buck!”

Something’s different. Hazy. Buck’s body feels heavy, but his head feels light. He’s warm– not hot, but warm. Almost as if someone lit a candle inside him, like something’s aglow beneath his skin. He floats in the haze for a moment, content to let it sweep him away.

“Talk to me!” It’s Eddie yelling again. But he doesn’t sound like himself. Something is different. 

There’s something in his voice Buck isn’t used to hearing. Something that takes him a moment to register, to put a name to. 

Fear. 

Eddie’s scared. But why? There’s nothing to be afraid of. Everything is warm and floaty and good. Everything is good. Eddie’s nearby. No, wait, Eddie’s here. Eddie’s hands are on him now. Buck knows that touch better than he knows his own.

And he hears Bobby, too. 

Eddie’s here. Bobby’s here. There’s nothing to be scared of. He tries to open his mouth, tries to get the words out, to tell Eddie that it’s okay. That he doesn’t have to be afraid. But his mouth won’t work. The words won’t come. They swim around in his head, fighting the haze that grows thicker with each passing moment until they disappear. 

“Talk to me!” Eddie yells again. Buck’s heard Eddie say that before. 

Memories wash over him, pulling him deeper into the haze. 

1.

“Metro Dispatch, this is Firefighter Eddie Diaz, Public Service Officer.” Eddie answers his cell phone on the second ring.

Buck’s not sure what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. “Firefighter Eddie Diaz?” he repeats, laughing. “What happened to hello ?” 

Eddie sighs, and Buck doesn’t have to be in the room with him to know that he’s rubbing a hand over his forehead, trailing it down his face as he laughs alongside him. “Oh my god,” he groans. “I– I don’t even– I’m…” he stammers, clearly flustered. 

Buck can picture the look on his face, can imagine the blush creeping up his neck and settling on the apples of his cheeks. God, the things Buck would do to be able to run his thumbs over his flushed cheeks, to kiss away his bashful grin. To have the privilege of knowing Eddie– of having Eddie– so intimately. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry. Guess I, uh, I’ve gotten a little too used to answering the phone at work.”

It’s been a month and Buck’s still not used to the fact that he and Eddie don’t work together anymore. He thought it would get easier the more time that passed, but the dull ache in his chest hasn’t let up since the day Eddie told them all the news. 

And if Buck is being completely honest, hearing Eddie say “work” and knowing that he doesn’t mean the 118 hurts a little more than he thought it would. 

Buck opts for levity in an attempt to push past the pang of sadness. “I mean, if you want to change it up, there are plenty of other options.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks. “What do you suggest?”

“What about ‘Howdy?’” Buck has to fight to keep a straight face. “Y’know, honor your roots and all that.”

There’s a pause, and Buck doesn’t have to be in the room with Eddie to know that he’s rolling his eyes. 

And Buck could be mistaken. Maybe it’s a case of synchronicity, of Buck hearing what he so desperately wants to. But he swears Eddie sounds fond as he says, “Maybe not.” 

“Okay,” Buck concedes. “Forget your Texan blood. You could go more authoritative.”

“More authoritative? Eddie echoes. “Like what?” he drops his voice lower, more serious. “Talk to me.” 

Buck laughs. “Definitely a contender.” 

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

“As you should.”

“Might be a good idea to switch it up,” Eddie says. “I’m on the phone all day. Only a matter of time until I lose my mind.” 

“More than you already have,” Buck ribs. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. He keeps his tone light, but there’s something serious hiding beneath it, something Buck picks up on from the single syllable alone. Before he can press, Eddie continues, “So… to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Well,” Buck begins, heaving a sigh. “Remember how I saved your life?”

“Which time?” 

“You pick,” Buck quips. He can hear Eddie moving around. Putting things away, opening and closing the refrigerator door. He recognizes the sound of Eddie’s dishwasher kicking on. A sudden and overwhelming sense of longing hits him over the head without warning. Which shouldn’t make any sense– who longs to clean up the kitchen? And yet he aches for it. Putting dishes away and taking out the trash. Dumping clean laundry on the bed and matching up socks. 

Something about being with Eddie makes even the most mundane task feel like sacred privilege. 

“I’m calling to see if I can cash in a favor,” Buck says.

He’s expecting a smart response, something witty or sarcastic. Maybe a playful ribbing. What he gets instead is a simple “Anything.” 

There’s something about the way Eddie says it that has Buck feeling warm inside. It’s simple and it’s easy and it’s honest. Eddie means it. Anything.

Anything.

It’s welcome and it’s appreciated and it means more to Buck than he thinks he could ever put into words. But it’s equal parts disarming, and it takes Buck a second to recover from the unexpectedness of it all. “Uh, well, my– washer’s broken,” he explains. “It’s been busted for a few days now and it’s something with the water lines cause all my neighbors’ are broken too and my landlord said he’d have someone come take a look but that was on Friday and it’s Tuesday now and he still hasn’t gotten anyone out and I don’t want to bug Maddie right now since she just got back and I–”  

“Buck,” Eddie cuts in. 

“I’m rambling,” Buck realizes. 

“You’re rambling,” Eddie confirms. This time Buck is absolutely certain he isn’t imagining the fondness in Eddie’s voice. 

On a totally unrelated note, there are butterflies in his stomach. 

He takes a breath. “Sorry.” 

“No need,” Eddie assures him. “Come do your laundry here.” 

“You sure?” Buck asks, all but holding his breath as he waits for Eddie’s response. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, as Eddie answers without so much as a second’s hesitation. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Buck says. “I tried to go to the laundromat around the corner yesterday but I guess everyone in the building had the same idea because all the machines were in use and when I called just now they said everything is still taken and I’m out of clean work shirts and I don’t think anyone at the 118 would appreciate it if I showed up for my shift tomorrow in last shift’s clothes and I–” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Eddie assures him. “The offer stands. Even if your landlord has it fixed by the time you get your clothes off the floor and into a laundry basket.”

Ah, yes. There’s the gentle teasing Buck had been expecting. 

Buck scoffs, feigning hurt. “What makes you think my clothes aren’t already in a basket?” 

“I’ve seen your bedroom floor. Or rather, the lack thereof,” Eddie says. “Worse than Christopher,” he muses. 

There’s a long pause. Buck can’t really argue with that. “Fine,” he concedes. “You win.”

“Chris is at science club until six, but if you get here by then you can come with me to pick him up?” Eddie says. It has the workings of a question, with the way his voice ticks up at the end. There’s something hopeful there. 

Buck’s smile stretches so wide, he wonders if Eddie can hear it through the phone. “Done.”

2.

Traffic is the third certainty to life when living in L.A. 

Death, taxes, and bumper-to-bumper on the 405. 

Buck knows this to be true. He used to hate it, used to sit in traffic longing for his old motorcycle, imagining weaving through the slow-moving cars and feeling the wind in his face. 

But lately, he hasn’t minded it so much. Not when Eddie’s beside him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming underneath his breath, stealing glances at him across the center console and listening to him ramble on about whatever’s on his mind. 

Sometimes, Buck finds himself wishing for traffic– hoping that their twenty minute drive might turn into thirty or forty, that he might be lucky enough to steal those extra moments with Eddie.

And he’s grateful– so, so grateful for these moments, for this time with Eddie– he’ll never not be grateful when Eddie’s beside him. But if everyone could get a fucking move on today, that would be great.

“We’re going to be late,” Buck mutters, craning his neck in an attempt to see around the cars in front of them. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie assures him, seemingly unbothered from where he sits in the passenger seat. 

Buck huffs out a sigh, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “No it’s not.”

“Baby,” Eddie says gently. “It’s okay. They can wait for a few minutes.” 

Buck can only imagine the things that Eddie’s parents could be thinking– could be saying to each other– while they wait outside of LAX for the two of them to pull up. He’s met them before, and they were fine, but that was when he was just Eddie’s partner. Now that he’s Eddie’s partner, things are different. He doesn't want them thinking he’s irresponsible. Or unreliable. Or worse, that he doesn’t respect them. 

He doesn't know what exactly they think about him and Eddie being together. It only happened a couple of months ago, after Eddie got back from visiting El Paso for his dad’s retirement party. Buck had driven this same route, had picked him and Chris up outside of arrivals when their flight got in. It was late and they were exhausted– Christopher was asleep in the back seat by the time they hit the freeway– and Eddie was unusually quiet the whole way home. 

When they got to Eddie’s, Buck carried a still-sleeping Christopher inside while Eddie got the bags. They put him to bed and Eddie pulled two beers from the fridge and said, “Stay.” 

Buck took the bottle from his outstretched hand and said, “Okay.”

Eddie held his gaze, something soft and vulnerable and a little hopeful in his eyes. “Forever.”

Buck’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammered in his chest. Eddie had somehow given him everything he’d ever wanted, offered him everything he’d ever dreamed of, in one single word. Buck swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat and dug his fingernails into the heel of his palm hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. But he didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a dream.

His eyes shone as he looked at Eddie. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeated, taking a step forward and closing the gap between them. Buck can’t remember who moved first, who kissed who. 

All he remembers is the slowest, sweetest, most perfect kiss of his life. How Eddie’s lips tasted like beer and his hands felt like home. How something inside of him instantly settled, how for the first time in his life, his brain felt quiet and his heart felt whole. 

“Forever,” Buck breathed, the word lost on his lips as Eddie kissed him again. 

And so it was. 

Eddie told his parents a few weeks ago. With Christopher’s birthday coming up, he was hoping they’d be willing to make the trip. He’d called to see if they’d let him fly them out for Christopher’s birthday. Between Buck and Pepa, his birthday party was shaping up to be the event of the decade. He knew the only thing that could make his son happier than the cotton candy machine, video game truck, and four (yes, four ) piñatas already hidden in Eddie’s closet was a surprise visit from his grandparents. 

So he called and asked. They were on board before Eddie could even get to the details, which had Buck sighing with relief from where he sat beside Eddie as he spoke to them. He had placed a reassuring hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his chest swelling as Eddie all but melted into his touch. 

Eddie went on to tell them about their relationship, and Buck waited with bated breath for their reaction. Not that it would change anything about how he felt for Eddie– nothing could– but he knew how important this was to Eddie, how even though his parents had let him down so many times before, there was still some tiny, hopeful part of him eager for their approval. Buck knew the feeling. 

“Are you happy, mijo?” Eddie’s dad had asked. Eddie looked up at Buck, smiling as their eyes met. 

“Yeah,” Eddie answered, holding Buck’s gaze as he spoke. “More than ever.” 

“Then so are we,” Ramon said. 

And now they’re here. Well, they will be if Buck and Eddie ever actually make it to the airport. His stomach churns with anxiety as the traffic inches forward. 

It’s crawling so slowly that he hasn’t even used the gas pedal in the last few minutes, just lifts his foot off the brake every time the car in front moves forward another half a foot. 

The reality of the situation is that Buck spent the last two hours tracking their flight, watching the little airplane icon make its way across New Mexico and Arizona and into California. He announced it was time to leave for the airport a half hour before the Diazes even landed. Eddie had pushed back, pointing out that the airport is only twenty minutes away and it would be at least an hour before his parents landed, deplaned, and got their luggage. 

“But what if they didn’t check a bag?” Buck had asked. Eddie had dropped a kiss to his forehead, smoothing out the worry lines. He didn’t dig his heels in, didn’t insist they could wait. He just walked to the front door and pulled his shoes on, and Buck loved him for it. 

“Your car or mine?”  

And it was a good thing they left when they did. They’ve been in the car for almost an hour, and they still have another two miles to go. Eddie’s parents texted ten minutes ago that they were off the plane and heading to baggage claim, which did absolutely nothing to calm the nerves buzzing beneath Buck’s skin. 

“Let’s go!” Buck shouts at the cars ahead of them, slamming his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. “Should’ve taken La Cienega,” he mumbles, to himself more than anything. 

Eddie places a hand on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly. “It’s okay. You know how many times they were late picking me up from things as a kid? We could show up tomorrow and it still wouldn’t be even.”

And okay, that does help a little bit. It doesn’t make Buck feel better completely, but it does help to untangle the ball nerves that’s formed behind his chest. 

“How are you not going crazy?” Buck asks after a minute, tearing his eyes away from the long line of cars in front of them long enough to glance over at Eddie. 

Eddie shrugs. “Nothing we can do about it.” 

Practically speaking, Eddie’s right. Technically speaking, though, Buck could pull into the shoulder and speed around the congestion. But Eddie had shut that idea down about twenty minutes ago. And again ten minutes ago when Buck looked over at him with what could only be described as mischief in his eyes.

Buck groans, rolling his eyes and knocking the back of his head into the headrest.

Eddie looks at him for a long moment, nothing shy of completely smitten. “You done?” he asks after a beat. 

“No,” Buck says, groaning once more, even louder than before. “Okay, now I am.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly. “Patience is a virtue, Buck.”

“Well, I think hurrying the fuck up should be a virtue,” Buck grumbles.  

Eddie snorts, reaching for the radio and flipping through stations until he finds one that’s playing music instead of a commercial. “Oh, this is a good song!” he says excitedly, turning to Buck expectantly. 

Buck gives him a blank look in return. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard this before.  

“Wait, seriously?” Eddie asks incredulously. “It’s Stevie Nicks!” 

Buck shrugs. He’s already grinning like an idiot, enjoying every second of watching Eddie get all excited over a song on the radio. But nothing– nothing could prepare him for the wave of adoration that crashes over him as Eddie starts to sing along. 

“You can talk to me,” Eddie sings. “T-T-T-Talk to me.” He draws out the last word, smiling as he looks over at Buck.  “Come on, you know this song!” he insists. 

“I don’t!” 

Even if he did, Buck wouldn’t admit to it now. Not if it meant he’d lose his front-row seat to this epic performance. 

“This is the best part,” Eddie says, reaching for the dial and turning it louder before turning to Buck. “Let the walls burn down, set your secrets free.” He grins, reaching for Buck and cupping his chin in his hands. “You can break their bounds, cause you’re safe with me.” 

And god, if that isn’t the truth. Buck has never felt safer with anyone than he has with Eddie. 

When he was growing up in Hershey, there was this game all the neighborhood kids used to play at the town pool. They’d take turns swimming out in pairs to the middle of the deep end, reaching up and grabbing opposite edges of the diving board. Then, they’d hang off the edge for as long as they could, until someone dropped into the water and the other was crowned the victor. Buck has vivid memories of dangling there, knuckles white and muscles burning, determined to hang on longer than the kid opposite him. 

Most of his friends would drop off the second they beat their opponent, but not Buck. He’d stay on until he physically couldn’t any more. Until his face would burn red, his muscles would ache, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold on any longer.

So much of his life has felt the same– like he’s hanging on the edge, desperate to just keep holding on, to get a better grip on it all. And then he met Eddie. And suddenly, it was like the first summer where they started playing in teams instead of one on one. 

Everything was easier. 

He was still hanging there, still on the edge, but it was easier. He wasn’t on his own. When it got to be too much for him, there was someone beside him ready to tag him out, ready to share in the burden. 

And it didn’t hurt anymore. He felt like he could hold on forever.

3.

Buck loves Eddie’s house. 

He loves his own place, too– the loft has been good to him– but it’s not the same. It’s never felt like home. Not in the way that Eddie’s house does. 

It took him a while to realize that’s what the feeling was. He spent the first two and a half decades of his life never really feeling at home anywhere. The feeling was so foreign to him that he didn’t recognize it once he had it. He knew that the ever-present current of anxiety thrumming beneath his skin suddenly quieted each time he was at Eddie’s. It was the same thing that happened every time he walked into the 118. 

He just didn’t realize the feeling had a name at first. 

Eddie’s house feels like home in a way his loft never has. In a way Abby’s place never did. In a way that his old apartment and all of the places he lived before landing at the 118 never did. 

In a way his childhood home never did. 

Not that Buck’s loft is all bad. It’s the first place he truly ever felt was his. It was the backdrop for some of the best moments in his life. Some of the worst, too. The loft is where he told Eddie he loved him for the first time. The loft is where Eddie said it back, not even a heartbeat later. 

The loft is where Eddie first squeezed Buck’s hand three times, an unspoken I love you that quickly became woven into the fabric of their everyday lives. Three squeezes across the center console in the car just because. Three taps on the knee in the back of the engine as they pull up to a call. Three kisses stolen as they stand at the stove in their pajamas, flipping pancakes on Saturday mornings. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

And the loft does feel like home sometimes. It hasn't always, not the way that Eddie’s place always has. But sometimes. Like when when he wakes up to slow kisses and the smell of coffee as early-morning sunlight pours through the windows. When contagious laughter and video game sound effects echo off the high ceilings. And when his eyes catch on the second toothbrush beside his in the cup next to the bathroom sink. 

And on nights like these, when he and Eddie are here together. Alone together. When Buck’s laid out on the bed, sheets that smell like Eddie balled up in his fists as breathy moans fall from his lips.

They’ve been caught up in each other since the day started bleeding into night, since pink and purple streaks crept into the blue sky, melting away into a deep, inky nighttime. Moonlight flooded through the windows, painting the walls in shadow as they held onto each other hard enough to leave marks and swapped bruising kisses that somehow still felt reverent. 

It’s perfect. It’s absolutely everything. 

Buck doesn’t know how he ever lived without this.

He’ll be the first to admit he’s had a lot of sex. Like… a lot of sex. 

He’ll also be the first to admit that sex with Eddie is the best he’s ever had. Tenfold. By a landslide. No competition. 

The first time was a revelation. It was as exhilarating as the first leap off the diving board at the start of the summer season, as refreshing as that first clean breath after breaking the water’s surface. The kind that has your lungs burning and your heart flying up against your ribcage in the very best way. 

It was slow and hot and absolutely perfect. 

A chill dances up Buck’s spine every time he thinks about it. How his skin sparked to life beneath Eddie’s touch. How the reverence in Eddie’s voice as he murmured Buck’s name had his heart soaring, his lips curling into a smile. How Eddie’s kiss brought with it the thrill of setting off on a new adventure and the grounding comfort of coming home all at once. 

And the fact that Eddie can do things with his tongue that Buck’s only ever seen in his wildest, filthiest dreams doesn’t hurt either. 

Buck spent the first few days waiting for the bubble to pop, expecting the initial flame to snuff out. Surely it was too good to be true. There was no way sex could be this good all the time, right? 

Except it’s been months now, and it’s still just as good. Better, even, if that’s possible. The spark beneath Buck’s skin that was fanned into a flame beneath Eddie’s touch has only managed to burn brighter since that first night. 

He can’t get enough.

He’s on his forearms and his knees tonight, Eddie draped over his back. He’s long since lost track of where he ends and Eddie begins, lost all concept of anything except the hot, filthy drag of Eddie’s cock inside him as he falls apart beneath each languid thrust. 

Eddie drops a kiss to Buck’s shoulder, and every nerve ending in Buck’s body feels like it fires at once. He gasps, pants, dissolves into broken-off moans and hushed cries of please and Eddie and baby . He feels like he’s glowing, ecstasy shimmering in his veins. 

“More,” Buck whines. He doesn’t mean to sound like he’s begging, but it comes out needy and desperate. He turns his head, hiding his face in the pillow as a blush creeps onto his cheeks. 

The next thing he feels is Eddie’s hand on his face, his fingers on his jaw, a warm and welcome weight as he turns Buck’s face to the side. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a hot kiss to Buck’s temple. His breath is warm against Buck’s skin, and it sends sparks dancing across Buck’s skin. “Tell me what you want. Let me hear you.” 

Buck wants to be closer, wants to feel it tomorrow, wants to forget everything except Eddie inside him. Eddie’s fingers on his hips. Eddie’s lips on his neck. 

“Want to see you,” Buck breathes. “Want you to turn me over and fuck me like I’m yours.”

Eddie doesn’t have to be told twice. 

4.

They’re standing in the cereal aisle when Eddie’s phone rings. Buck has a box of store brand Cheerios in one hand and a box of Frosted Flakes in the other. Christopher loves them both equally and the grocery list they made during a slow stretch on shift last night says cereal in Eddie’s neat capital letters. But it doesn’t specify which kind, but it doesn’t have to. They both know what Christopher likes. Buck can’t eat either one of them without thinking of the week Eddie spent in the hospital with a bullet hole in his chest. But Christopher loves them. 

Buck holds the boxes up to Eddie as if to ask which one? 

Eddie looks between the boxes, considering the choices. 

“Both?” Buck suggests.

“Both,” Eddie nods, taking the boxes from Buck and placing them in the shopping cart. Buck would be lying if he said he was fully present. As much as he loves this– running errands with Eddie after a slow, quiet shift together– his mind is elsewhere today. He hopes it’s not obvious, but he suspects it is, if Eddie’s lingering looks are any indication. 

He’s about to say something when Eddie’s phone rings. One look at the caller ID has him swearing under his breath, picking up the call immediately. Buck can only hear Eddie’s side of the conversation, but it’s all he needs. “Hello?... Oh, no… Yeah, of course. We’ll be right there… Is he doing alright? … We’re on the way now… Can you let him know?... Yeah, thank you.”

“What happened?” Buck asks the second Eddie pulls the phone from his ear to hang up the call. 

Eddie sighs. “Stomach bug.” 

The rest of their list is abandoned in favor of getting through the checkout and out of the store as quickly as possible, with only a quick stop for crackers and Pedialyte on the way to the register. 

A couple minutes into the cross-town drive to Christopher’s school, Eddie’s hand comes to rest just above Buck’s knee.  

The familiar touch pulls Buck out of his own mind. It’s only then that he realizes he was staring out the window so intently his vision had begun to go blurry. He blinks slowly, his vision returning to normal as he looks over at Eddie behind the wheel. Eddie’s looking at him expectantly. Shit. He must’ve said something when Buck was zoned out. 

“Hmm?” Buck asks, blinking again. “Sorry.”

Eddie looks over at him as the truck rolls to a stop at a red light. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Buck shrugs. “Tired,” he lies. Well, technically, he is tired. They just got off shift, after all. But he and Eddie both know that’s not the reason why he’s been quieter than usual. 

“That all?” Eddie asks gently. 

Buck hesitates. He wants to talk to Eddie, longs for his advice and his assurances and the way he always manages to hear even the things Buck doesn’t voice out loud. 

“It can wait,” he says. At least that’s closer to the truth. It can wait. Until Christopher is better.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Why should it have to? Whatever it is, it’s bothering you.” 

Buck shrugs. Hesitates. “Christopher is sick. It–” 

Eddie shoots Buck a knowing look, cutting him off. “So?” 

Buck sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be dropping a burden on your shoulders when you already have a sick kid to take care of.”

“First of all, we have a sick kid to take care of,” Eddie points out. “You’re on vomit duty this time. Or did you forget that you owe me one after November First?” 

Buck can’t help but laugh at that. “In my defense, I was sick too!” 

“You’re thirty years old,” Eddie reminds him. “You should know better than to eat that much Halloween candy in one sitting.” 

“Christopher is smart for his age,” Buck points out. “Maybe he’s the one who should’ve known better.”

“Maybe you both need supervision when candy’s involved.”

“Maybe,” Buck concedes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Second of all,” Eddie continues, steering their conversation back on track. “You are never a burden.” His voice is more serious now, more matter-of-fact. He’s not leaving any room for interpretation or argument. 

Buck tries anyway. “But–” 

“I’m serious.” Eddie squeezes Buck's knee reassuringly. Once. Twice. Three times. “Baby,” he says, his voice soft, gentle. “Please talk to me. Let me help.” 

Buck absolutely melts. Between the pet name and the soft look in Eddie’s eyes, he folds almost instantly. 

“My parents want to come and stay for a bit,” he says. “My dad texted me last night when we were getting back from the car fire on Wilshire.” 

Eddie nods slowly. He makes a valiant effort to hide the disdain that creeps into his expression at Buck’s mention of his parents. He doesn’t quite succeed, but it’s successful in reminding Buck just how much he loves this man. As if he could ever forget. 

“How do you feel about that?” Eddie asks, turning back to the road as the light turns green.  

Buck shrugs. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see them yet.” He expects the truth to burn on his tongue, but it doesn’t. The sky doesn’t come crashing down on him, the ground doesn’t open up and swallow him whole. Eddie doesn’t give him a disgusted look and tell him he’s a terrible son and an even worse human being for thinking such a thing, let alone saying it out loud. 

“No one could fault you for that,” is what Eddie says instead. “You’re still healing.”

Eddie’s response is so simple, so genuine– as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. It splits something in Buck’s chest wide open. 

“I– I’ve talked to them on the phone a couple of times since their visit last year,” Buck says. He’s been working really hard in therapy, and to their credit, he knows his parents have been trying on their end, too. But still, the thought of seeing them again has uneasiness curling in his gut and anxiety thrumming beneath his skin. “But… I don’t know. In-person is different.”

“Definitely,” Eddie agrees, pulling into the school parking lot. Buck can tell he’s trying his best to push past his own personal grudge against Phillip and Margaret for Buck’s sake, and something about that makes Buck love him even more. 

“I– I’m just…” Buck’s voice trails off. He sighs. “I’m not sure what to do.”

Eddie pulls into a visitor’s spot and shifts the truck into park before turning to face Buck properly. “That’s okay,” Eddie assures him. “You don’t have to have all the answers.”

He brushes his thumb over Buck’s jaw, which is when Buck realizes he’s chewing on his bottom lip so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t drawn blood. He releases it, sighs, and admits, “I wish I did.” 

“Can I tell you what you do have?”

Buck nods. There’s not a thing on Earth that Buck could ever deny him. Beyond that, too. Eddie could ask him for a piece of the moon and all the stars in the night sky and Buck would find a way. 

“You have great instincts,” Eddie says. “Trust yourself.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me I lack basic survival instincts,” Buck points out. 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. “Certain instances notwithstanding,” he amends. “You should trust your gut.” 

“You also have time,” Eddie continues. “You don’t have to give them an answer yet.” 

Buck nods. Eddie’s right. He doesn’t have to rush into a decision– potentially the wrong one– just because some part of him feels like he owes his parents a quick response. He doesn’t owe them much of anything. And he certainly doesn't need to take on discomfort to ease theirs.  He knows that. Eddie is quick to remind him any time he forgets. 

“And you have a family here who loves you and who will support you no matter what you decide.”

Buck wonders how Eddie does that. How he always knows exactly what to say, exactly how to say it. How he isn’t scared of the darkness that sometimes swirls inside Buck’s mind. How he always manages to ease his way inside, to chase the darkness away and let the light in its place. He’s fearless in the face of the things that bring Buck to his knees and Buck has never loved anyone in the way he loves this man. 

“Eddie,” Buck breathes. He’s not sure he could find any more words if he tried. 

Eddie’s hand on the side of Buck’s face is a grounding weight, a welcome touch tethering him to this moment and keeping him from floating away or melting into the seat, especially when Eddie tips his chin up, seeking out his gaze, and says, “We’ll figure it out together.” 

“Thank you,” Buck says, meeting him for a kiss. They keep it quick, lest they get carried away in the school parking lot about to pick up a vomiting child. “Let’s go,” he says, pulling back and unbuckling his seatbelt. Eddie smiles at him fondly as they get out of the truck. 

Five minutes later, Buck is holding the front door of the school open as Eddie carries a very sick, very tired Christopher to the car. Buck knows for a fact that his next 24 hours are going to be filled with vomit and thermometers and disinfectant and reminding Eddie to breathe through his mouth so he doesn’t gag. But they’ll be together. They’ll figure it out together.

There’s nothing in the world that sounds better.

5.

The tension began rising as they headed out of the firehouse and across the parking lot to Buck’s Jeep. Silence stretched between them, hanging heavy in the air as Buck pulled onto the main road.

Around the corner from Eddie’s, he decides he can’t take it anymore. “Okay, what?” he asks, turning to face Eddie as they wait at a red light. 

“What?” Eddie asks. Buck can’t help but notice how tired Eddie looks. It was far from the longest or weirdest shift they ever had, and their last call had them back at the station and in their bunks a little after two o’clock. Bobby had sent everyone to wash up and get some sleep as soon as they got back, but the alarm never rang again. Buck had slept straight through until Eddie nudged him awake a few minutes before shift change at seven. He had assumed Eddie had done the same, but he’s wondering now, given the sunken-in circles beneath Eddie’s eyes, if he’s mistaken. 

"What ?” Buck echoes, pulling into Eddie’s driveway and parking behind his truck. “What do you mean what? You’ve barely said a word to me in twelve hours.” 

He gets out of the car, and it’s possible that he closes the door a little harder than he needs to. 

“That’s not true,” Eddie slams his own door, too. 

“Yes it is.” Buck’s well aware of how petulant he sounds, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Eddie unlocks the front door, holding it open for Buck before following him inside and closing the door behind them. 

Buck doesn’t miss the significance of it. How even when they’re fighting– even if Eddie won’t admit that they’re fighting– Eddie still holds the door for him. He still holds out a hand to take Buck’s coat and hang it up beside his own. He still stomps over to the thermostat and kicks it up two degrees because he knows Buck runs cold. 

Not a day goes by when he doesn’t feel like the luckiest man in the world, having the privilege of knowing a love like this. 

“You’re mad at me,” Buck says, following Eddie into the kitchen. “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so needy, so desperate. An older version of himself would hate that, but he’s never felt like he’s had to pretend around Eddie. 

Eddie heaves a sigh, opening a cabinet and pulling the can of coffee grounds down. “Drop it, Buck.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“Buck,” Eddie warns, stabbing at the buttons on the coffee pot like they’ve personally offended him. As soon as it starts brewing, he opens the dishwasher and starts pulling out clean dishes. Buck starts putting plates away as Eddie reaches for the silverware basket. 

“Be careful,” Buck warns, having visions of Eddie accidentally impaling his hand on a fork in his haste.

“Don’t talk to me about being careful after you chased a drunk driver last night,” Eddie shoots back. 

There it is.

“I wasn’t in any danger,” he says. He’s not sure why he thinks that line will work on Eddie. It definitely didn’t work on Bobby, who laid into him as soon as they got back to the station. 

Eddie scoffs. “What were you thinking?” he demands.

“I don’t know,” Buck says with a noncommittal shrug. He knows Eddie’s not going to like that answer. But he’s not going to lie, either.

“You weren’t thinking!” Eddie all but shouts. “You got on that bike without any regard for your safety.”

Buck hasn’t seen him mad like this in… god, he doesn't even know how long. Maybe since the day he got all broody and finger-pointy in the grocery store during Buck’s lawsuit. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little bit. But a quick read of the room determines it’s neither the time nor the place to dig into that a little more. 

“My safety?” Buck scoffs. “It’s a bike, Eddie, not an infantry tank.”

“A bike that had already been hit once by the driver you started chasing after!” Eddie argues. “Or did you forget about the broken fibula and the four totaled cars he left in his wake?”

And– well, okay. Eddie has a point there. But it’ll be a cold day in hell when Buck gives him the satisfaction. “It’s not a big deal,” he insists.

“Not a big deal,” Eddie echoes. “Not a big deal? You could have died!” 

“But I didn’t,” Buck points out. 

“But you could have. And then what?” All the fight is gone from Eddie’s voice. He looks absolutely destroyed. 

It’s now, in the light of the morning, that Buck notices just how heavy the circles beneath Eddie’s eyes are, confirming his suspicions that he hadn’t slept much last night– if at all. His hair is sticking out, broken free from its gelled-down hold more than it’s ever been at the end of shift. Buck’s never been a betting man, but he’d put every penny to his name down on odds that Eddie spent much of the night pulling at his hair, tugging on it in the way he tends to when big feelings swell up inside him like waves at high tide, threatening to consume him. 

Touch has always been Eddie’s anchor, the thing that grounds him when his mind starts to drift away. He needs to feel something, feel grounded. It makes sense to Buck that Eddie tugs at his own hair when it all gets to be too much. But he’d be lying if he said there wasn't a pang of guilt in his chest knowing that he’s partly to blame.

It hits twice as hard when he thinks about how he spent his night— sleeping soundly in the next bunk, without a clue that Eddie was lying awake beside him, his sleep held hostage by his own thoughts. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. There are silent promises in his apology, unsaid vows behind the two small words. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.

Eddie knows. Buck can tell from the way his face softens, the way that tears fill his eyes as he holds Buck’s gaze. Eddie knows. 

“I– I can’t,” Eddie begins. “I can’t lose you. Okay? I–”  

Buck nods, cutting him off and pulling him into a hug. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t lose you,” Eddie says again, his words muffled against Buck’s neck. 

Buck takes a long, deep breath. He holds Eddie close, presses three tiny kisses to the top of his head, and makes the one promise he knows isn’t his to keep. 

“You won’t.” 

+1

Eddie’s voice is the first thing he hears. 

He’s not sure where he is, or why everything feels so heavy. He can’t lift his arms. Can’t open his eyes. Something’s beeping steadily in the background. But everything’s okay. Eddie’s here.

“You’re gonna be okay, Buck,” Eddie says. His voice is wobbly. Unsteady in a way it never is. “You’re gonna wake up.” He clears his throat. Sniffles. 

It sounds like he’s been crying, and something about that has Buck feeling like his heart might split in two. 

“You’re gonna wake up,” Eddie repeats. “You’re gonna wake up and you’re gonna talk to me about psychedelic fish off the coast of Indonesia and the newest moon they found in Jupiter’s orbit and the chances of being struck by lightning. You’re gonna be fine, baby.”

“I’m not gonna lose you,” Eddie says, brushing Buck’s hair back and letting his hand linger, cupping the side of his face gently. “You promised.” 

Buck registers the weight of Eddie’s hand in his own, their fingers laced together. 

It takes all of his strength, everything he has. But he squeezes.

Once. Twice. Three times.

[les-pompiers118]

Weep, and call it singing

Buddie | 6x10 coda | 1200-ish words | not rated

Now posted on AO3 here.

Title from "Call It Dreaming" by Iron & Wine

On the third day of Buck’s medically-induced coma, Eddie wills himself out of the hard, plastic hospital chair and announces that he’s going to check on Buck’s apartment.

He doesn’t do it to be helpful or because he needs something useful to do. Going through the motions of living is almost more than Eddie can manage at the moment. He’s too exhausted and numb for much else. Time has slowed to an impossible degree. Every breath pushed into Buck’s lungs, every beep of the monitors around his bed, seems to mark another hour gone by rather than a few seconds. Every night stretches out like an endless void.

No, Eddie offers to go because, after three days, he really needs a break from the other people keeping vigil in Buck’s hospital room.

There’s a rotating cast of Buckleys and Hans here every minute of visiting hours, at least two and sometimes more. When it’s Chimney or Maddie or Albert, Eddie gets these indecipherable looks—of sympathy, definitely, but also a knowingness that’s starting to get on his nerves. Buck’s parents are worse. They seem to view him as some kind of intruder in their family crisis. Watching them at their son’s bedside, stoic and silent, fills Eddie with low-simmering rage. Why are YOU here, he wants to ask them. You don’t know him like we do. You don’t love him like we do. 

So even though Eddie doesn’t want to leave Buck’s side, he volunteers for a task that will take him to a place where he knows he belongs—and back to a time when he didn’t question exactly how Buck fit into his life. Because Eddie has been asking himself some pretty damn uncomfortable questions since that lightning strike.

The Buckley parents frown when Eddie assures Maddie that he has his own key to Buck’s place. He takes great pleasure in firmly declining Margaret’s offer to come with him. To the best of Eddie’s knowledge, Buck’s parents have never visited his apartment. He might not want her there, in his safe space, Eddie reasons. Secretly, he also wants to keep as much of Buck as he can for himself right now.

The air in the apartment already feels stale, with a hint of trapped humidity from the rain that’s long gone. Midday sunlight illuminates the white marble floor, so bright that it’s painful. After opening the door to the balcony to let in some fresh air, Eddie falters. The apartment feels as hollow as an empty nautilus shell.

Buck’s going to come home again, Eddie tells himself. There’ll be more dinners around the big table, more game nights—well, assuming Buck ever gets around to buying a new couch. Buck will bustle around the kitchen, his and Chris’ laughter will fill the echoing space, and Eddie—

Eddie will never, ever take any of it for granted again.

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, he squares his shoulders and gets to work. He goes to the fridge first. There’s not much there, but then again, Buck was probably eating at Maddie and Chim’s house a lot once his parents arrived. Eddie finds a small carton of oat milk that he knows is especially for his and Hen’s coffee. It smells like it’s starting to go bad, so he pours it down the sink, along with a plastic takeout container of hot and sour soup that Buck must have ordered when had a cold last week. The softening berries and browning lettuce go in the garbage can next, followed by the half loaf of multigrain bread from the cabinet. Once the food is taken care of, Eddie washes out the coffee pot and empties the dishwasher.

And then Eddie has to stop, because it feels too much like cleaning out someone’s house after they…

No. He won’t let himself think that way. There’s nothing to grieve about. There’s hope to hold onto. There are still prayers to be said, if one is inclined. Just yesterday, Bobby and Athena sat beside Buck with their heads bowed and hands clasped together, and Eddie could almost hear the echo of his abuela’s voice as he watched them. Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo… Eddie hasn’t been able to bring himself to try it, though. It’s been a long time since he found comfort in prayer, or believed that help might come simply because he asked for it.

He knows too damn well that sometimes help never comes.

Eddie is saved from his thoughts by a small, galvanized steel watering can on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. That’s something else he can do. It will be as if Buck went out of town and asked Eddie to water his plants while he’s gone—ignoring the fact that Eddie is possibly the least qualified person for the task. He can’t even keep a cactus alive. Eddie has a feeling Buck would have faith in him anyway.

The plants on the balcony don’t need watering, thanks to all the recent rain. There are a few small ones scattered around inside, so Eddie circles through the kitchen and living room and dutifully gives each of them some water. Hopefully not too much. He’ll just buy new plants to replace any that he accidentally kills, that’s all. Buck will probably laugh about it later if it comes to that.

He can’t remember if there are any houseplants upstairs, so he climbs the stairs to the bedroom. At the top, he stops, immobilized by the sight before him: Buck’s unmade bed, last slept in four days ago, before their disastrous shift. Eddie sets the watering can on the floor.

Was Buck running late that morning? Was he in such a hurry that he didn’t have time to flip the duvet back over the mattress? Eddie can almost see it in his mind: Buck rushing around, pulling on a jacket and patting his pockets to make sure he has his phone and his keys, the way he always does when he’s about to leave someplace. What was he wearing when he showed up at the firehouse that day? Eddie can’t remember. It feels like a month ago.

With a sigh, he goes to the bed and attempts to shake the wrinkles out of the duvet, but apparently wrangling duvets is another thing that Eddie is bad at. He only manages to make it somewhat smoother than before. The effort leaves him drained, and he sits on the edge of the bed—undoing all his work, no doubt—to rest a minute. God, he’s so tired.

Twisting to the side, Eddie starts straightening the pillows that are piled up in front of the headboard. Beneath them, he finds a black hoodie. It must be the one that Buck last slept in. Eddie holds it up, intending to fold it, but finds himself pressing the fabric to his face instead. Oh. It smells like…

Buck.

He was right here, safe and well, asleep. Eddie’s eyes fill with tears as something cracks open inside him.

Buck.

His chest felt so solid and warm under Eddie’s hands when he took over from Chimney. Please. Please. Please. Twenty times he silently begged, once for each compression. Then paused, so Hen could give Buck two breaths. Then twenty more compressions as the gurney was wheeled into the ER and the raindrops ran down Buck’s lifeless face. Please. Please. Please.

Not a prayer. A plea: Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me yet.

With a shuddering gasp, Eddie tips onto Buck’s pillows and weeps.

[chaosandwolves]

Hold on

Eddie's control over his emotions had been integral to his survival in the past. But the second Eddie's eyes fall on Buck's limp body suspended mid air, the second his brain has caught on to what this means, to what this could mean, all the control in him evaporates. Buck's name tears from his throat without his doing.

Read on AO3

3,2k words, 6x10 and 6x11 coda

They know. They all know the second Buck's limp body comes into their view. 

Eddie knows, too. And Eddie knows that Hen, Chim and Bobby know what this sight means just as much as Eddie does. 

But Eddie refuses to accept it. He lets the reality ricochet off himself and throws it back at the universe. 

No. This is not acceptable. 

He doesn't accept the harsh statistics cause this is Buck and Buck always comes out ok at the end. 

It doesn't HAVE to mean that… Buck's heart is strong, stronger than most. The lightning must've simply knocked him out. Just for a moment. 

The thing is that ever since that day where he had found out about Mills, ever since everything crumbled in him, ever since all that control he so desperately had hung on to exploded into blind rage and despair and fell apart and landed onto nothing but fear; ever since then something in Eddie has been cracked open. Just like Frank had said. The box he'd built around all the pain had exploded. 

He knows what it is. He's talked around it in therapy and when Frank asked him, "What did this control serve? Why did you feel the need to hide behind it?" he finally understood. 

Growing up, it was always expected of him. To be the strong one, the one to keep his cool and to fill in the role of his father when he wasn't around, or even when he was. 

Thinking about this, it might've already moulded him for the army: Bite down, swallow the emotions, carry on. 

It's what he needed to survive. 

To survive the news that Shannon was pregnant which meant that he had to let go of the hopes and dreams he'd stored away somewhere in the back of his heart, to make room for Shannon and a kid and do what was expected of him. 

To survive the news that their son, the only person he allowed himself to fully open his heart to, has CP. 

To survive the tours. 

He needed the control in order to make the decision to move to LA so he could give Christopher a better life. 

Chris was all that mattered. 

And then came Buck. 

Buck who, after a short-lived misplaced hostility started to have Eddie's back like no one else before. 

Buck who saw his son and directly made room for him in his big heart. 

Buck who learned about his struggle and introduced him to Carla. 

Buck who had saved his son. 

Buck who goes to the zoo with Chris and makes homework with him and has running jokes with him which Eddie doesn't understand. 

But even with Buck there, Eddie still had to hang on to that control. 

He couldn't afford to pause and think about things. 

He couldn't allow himself to break into the bad things of the past when the present demanded all of his attention; when his son and team needed him to function. 

But somewhere in a hidden corner inside him, he knew he had it coming. 

Maybe that's why he listened to others and asked Ana out. 

It's easier to just do what's expected of you or even what people expect will be good for you rather than following your own heart. 

Especially if it leads you to a place or a person that deserves the full you and not the you that's so desperately grasping the last bits of control to their chest. 

He had known that the shield he had built around him had become thin and fragile with time. 

Being shot gave it a crack he wasn't able to mend anymore. Then the panic attacks and Chris' worry rattled it so violently that he could feel the control slipping and slipping. 

But control is what had allowed him to survive. 

Until it all imploded and he found himself crying on his bedroom floor with a bat in his bloody hands. 

And then Buck was there, willing to pick up the pieces and ready to give him reasons to replace the surviving with living. 

That's how Eddie slowly found the courage to loosen the desperate grip he had on his control. 

Eddie didn't lie when he told his father that he wants to become better for himself. 

His life has been exhausting. Always keeping up the facade, always the strong one, no weakness allowed; not in front of anyone else anyway. 

But then he watches Buck, how he loves and feels so freely and so much. 

He witnesses Booby taking care of his kids and his team in every way possible. 

Feels the enormous strength and compassion Hen holds for every patient and every person in her life. 

He laughs at Chim's remarks and silly jokes and his heart warms when he sees the unconditional love he has for his daughter and partner and family. 

And Eddie wants this for himself. He wants to feel free and not anchored to the ground by his self made chains. 

He wants to be open, wants to share and wants to let in. 

And it's Buck who's made this possible. And it's Buck who he's let in first. 

Eddie knows he won't ever be able to wear his heart on his sleeve like Buck does and that's ok. But he wants to fill that hole inside him that the ever present control had ripped open and left him with. He wants to heal. 

It's not that the habit of controlling his own emotions just vanished. But overall it somewhat softened. 

His survival doesn't depend on it anymore. 

He's still able to keep it together though, in order to do his job. He'd be a bad firefighter and paramedic if he wasn't able to keep a basic level of control. 

But the second Eddie's eyes fall on Buck's limp body suspended mid air, the second his brain has caught on to what this means, to what this could mean, all the control in him evaporates. 

Buck's name tears from his throat without his doing. 

His body is almost too slow to follow his frantic brain as he scrambles to get up the ladder. 

A bitter rational voice in him tells him that he should prepare himself in case he's too late, that he can't save him, that the lightning took Buck from him. 

But Eddie doesn't care. He shuts that god awful voice up and counters it by shouting for Buck as loud as he can. 

His only focus is to get to Buck and his name leaves Eddie's lips in a desperate mantra. 

When he's finally at the top of the ladder the frantic thoughts in his brain tumble over themselves. His first instinct is to bring Buck closer to him, so he tries to pull him up but the rain makes everything slippery and he doesn't have enough leverage from this angel to pull Buck's dead weight up to him. 

And Buck doesn't move, doesn’t respond to his frenzied shouts. 

He needs him to move, to do something. 

Eddie knows he won't respond. But he has to try, has to reach him somehow, has to remind Buck to fight. 

"Can you hear me?" He feels like his brain is falling apart trying to understand what he sees and doesn't see in front of him. It's like his mind is melting when he tries to force Buck to answer through the sheer power of his will. Come on, talk to me, talk to me. Please. 

But he's not moving. He's not moving. 

"Buuuuck!!!" His name rips from Eddie's throat again. He puts his all into it. Desperate to reach Buck, to wake him up. 

He knows he has to lower him to the ground. Everything in him recoils at the thought of letting Buck out of his proximity but he's not answering and as frantic and free falling as he feels, Eddie knows what he has to do to give Buck a chance. So he shouts for more slack and does his best to lower Buck down at a steady yet fast pace. 

All the while he's trying to persuade Buck in his mind to 'Hang on, hang on, please hold on.'

As soon as Buck is transferred to the gurney, Eddie hurries to make his way down to him. 

Telling himself that Buck is ok, that he'll be fine. 

When he finally makes it to the ground, he's even more frantic. Before he has properly reached them, he yells at Bobby, Hen and Chim, begs them to give him Buck's status, "Talk to me, talk to me!" 

But as soon as he's at Buck's side, Bobby pulls him away.

But it's too late. Eddie's seen him. 

Eddie's seen his too still face, no bright eyes glinting at him, no crooked mischievous grin on full lips, no familiar voice reciting to him all the facts there are to know about storms and lightning like it had done the rest of the day. 

It's not right. This is not right. 

It's all so wrong. 

The silence on Buck's lips is breaking him as Buck's name falls from his own. 

But Bobby pushes him away, pulls him along and tells Eddie to drive and forces him to move. 

Eddie feels wild as they're walking back to the front of the ambulance. 

He'd never fight Bobby, doesn't question his commands but oh how he wants to right now. 

He knows that Hen and Chim will do everything they can, that they won't give up, that they're good at what they're doing. Yet, all he wants to do is push Bobby away and get in the back of the ambulance to do something.

He should be with Buck. He owes it to Buck to save his life and he just can't bear the thought of Buck being alone right now. 

Eddie knows he's not being reasonable. Buck isn't alone; people who love him are taking good care of him at this very moment. 

But they're not Eddie. It's his place, his responsibility to be at Buck's side. 

He promised Buck. Buck is his partner; they are supposed to have each other's back. 

And he once promised Chris, too; to always look after Buck. 

And he's failed. Eddie has failed his son, has failed Buck. He didn't see it coming, couldn't even pull Buck up to him. 

Eddie knows that Bobby was right to push him back and make him be the one to drive. He's at least doing something that way while Chim and Hen are working on Buck. 

And Eddie can feel it; feel it all crumbling around him at the edges and he's sure Bobby can see him falling apart. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie knows that Bobby is suffering, too. Buck is like a son to him. 

Eddie has to control himself enough to get to the hospital as fast as he can; for Bobby, for Buck. 

So he wipes his mouth which feels like it's foaming and pulls himself together enough to be able to climb into the driver's seat. 

It's really funny how life plays out, isn't it? A lightning strike was the reason why he was buried alive; the reason he made Buck Christopher's legal guardian in case something happened to him. 

Because Buck loves Chris like he's his own. 

And now Buck is about to have an actual biological child which really will be less his than Christopher is and the lightning hits again; 

possibly taking Buck from them, robbing Buck of the chance of being a father. 

Somewhere out there someone probably would call this all poetic and theorize about the universe and destiny. 

Eddie, however, is angry. 

He's angry at the universe, angry at the storm, angry at himself. 

Cause he didn't plan for this. It's never been a question to him if Buck would still be there in case something happens to Eddie himself. It was always a given. 

After all, it's been Eddie who's had multiple brushes with death. Buck was always supposed to live, to survive. 

Eddie, though…. If he's honest with himself he's been anticipating death's cold claws closing around his heart ever since they went down in that chopper. 

And he wouldn't care much if it wasn't for Chris. 

But when Buck had told him that day, that it would've been better if it had been him who was shot, when he so clearly revealed how little he values his own life, Eddie had to tell him. He had to make sure that Buck would fight, for himself and for his son. 

It gave him a certain kind of peace knowing Buck would be there, Buck would survive. 

He never planned on the possibility that Buck wouldn't be there. 

Buck has been their safety net. He's saved Chris, he's saved Eddie. He's been their friend, confidant, partner. 

He's always had their backs. And now, now Eddie had failed to have his. 

And that's just not acceptable. It's not what Buck deserves. It's not enough.

Eddie really had thought he loved Shannon and he did and it hurt when she died. 

They were friends once and she's Christopher's mother, how can he not love her?

But he understands now that this love wasn't the love he wanted it to be or that he thought it to be. 

No. That kind of love is something that has grown over the past few years. He didn't even understand or realize it at first but as he sees Buck's lifeless body on the gurney, he knows. He's known it before somewhere deep down and he's been content with leaving it there. But now it's risen to the surface and he can't push it back, he doesn't want to. Because it belongs to Buck and he's not going to deny him this, he's not going to withhold it from him. Buck deserves this kind of love. 

Eddie doesn't care if it's reciprocated. It's his to give and Buck's to receive. 

The second he brings the ambulance to a halt, he's out of the door and at its back. As soon as the door is opened and the gurney is being moved out, Eddie's hands are on Buck's chest to keep the compressions going. 

When Chim motions to take over again, he doesn't budge.

This is his place. This is where he needs to be right now. It's him who has to pump the life back into Buck's heart. 

Opposite him Bobby rattles down the facts of who they're bringing in and what happened before Chim orders to shock Buck. Eddie barely lets go, leaving only the smallest bit of space between him and Buck. He watches Buck's chest being lifted off the gurney by the force of yet another electrical shock coursing through his body. The second Chim needs to press his fingers against Buck's pulse points doesn't seem to pass and Eddie feels like he's sinking into tar like nothingness. 

But then Chimney declares, "He's got a pulse!" And Eddie's knees almost buckle. 

He doesn't care about the tear falling from his eyelashes. 

The doctors and nurses take over and Eddie almost grabs for them, for Buck. He knows though that they are the ones who are more qualified now. 

So he lets go and just watches Buck being wheeled into the ER. 

Eddie doesn't quite pay attention to what Bobby is telling the nurses beside him but when the doctor says, "We do our best" as they’re disappearing around the corner with Buck he can't help himself. 

His anger and own helplessness push the words up his throat before he can think about it, "Do more!" 

Because that is what Buck deserves. Best is not enough. Because Buck is always doing more than 'best' and somehow Eddie needs to fix this imbalance right there and then. 'Best' can’t ever be enough. Not for Buck. 

Buck deserves the world because he is so integral to Eddie's world and to the lives of the rest of their family that it would all crumble and burn without him in it.

And then Buck vanishes out of his view. 

For a moment Eddie can't move, his eyes fixed on the corridor in front of him, his brain not able to process any of it. 

But when Bobby moves he forces himself to do the same. 

None of them is able to say anything. The shock and horror of what just happened clearly written on all their faces. 

Eddie drags himself a few steps back struggling to not completely break right there and then. A few more tears fall from his eyes as he's trying to blink them back while he wraps an arm around Chim who in turn pulls him into his side and Eddie takes a deep breath in to keep himself from falling apart when Bobby places his arm around Eddie's shoulder from the other side. 

For a long while they just stand there arm and arm. None of them able and maybe not willing to accept the reality that Buck's life is now in the hands of strangers behind closed doors. 

That their Buck is not with them. 

That they all just had a lifeless Buck under their hands, his dead body.

The horror of this sudden realization knocks the breath out of Eddie's lungs and his knees buckle. 

Bobby and Chim catch him and Hen is in front of him in an instant. 

He can't decipher any of their words over the rushing noise in his ears. 

His uniform suddenly feels too tight and he tries to pry it off with his hands. The hands that just had to pump blood through Buck's heart cause it wasn't doing that on its own anymore. 

Black spots start to dance in his vision. He feels hands on his cheeks and suddenly Hen's face comes into a blurry focus. 

Somehow her words make it through to him, maybe it's her tone, so gentle and warm, "Eddie, you're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe with me." 

And Eddie?

Eddie laughs. Of course he has one right now. Of course. 

They're about to call for someone to bring another gurney but the images of Buck's body unmoving in front of him flash up before his eyes and he croaks out a, "No. No. 's ok." 

And for some reason they don't argue with him. Instead, Bobby and Chim guide him sideways, sit down on the ground with him and don't let go while Eddie does his best to follow Hen's instructions and to pull himself back together. 

In the back of his mind he thinks of Chris and then a rapid sequence of half formed thoughts rush through his brain and it feels like his heart is shattering. 

He feels like a little boy crying for his mother when all he can think is that he just wants to be at Buck's side, wants to hear his laugh, wants to see his smile, wants to watch him and Chris getting excited over one of the animals in the zoo; he wants to hold his hand. 

His still uneven breath hitches and it's all he can do to turn into Bobby's chest when he starts crying as Buck's name leaves his throat in a choked whisper for one more time. 

[evanbi-ckley]

Three Minutes

Rated G | 462 Words

He barely remembers it.

There are only bits and pieces of that day that have stuck with him.

Come on, Eddie!

Stay down! I'm gonna come. I got you!

Eddie, hang on.

Eddie…

Here, we got you. We got you.

I got you. Okay.

Hey, just…you just stay with me, okay?

You just hang on.

Just hang on.

You're so close.

We're so close, I just…

I need you to hang…

I need you to hang on.

Come on!

Come on, come on!

Eddie shakes himself out of the memory as he presses the gas pedal down to the floor. Bobby said they were three minutes out, but Eddie knows he can get them there quicker. He has to. Buck has already been down for too long.

Please hang on.

The city flies by, the siren and lights the only things breaking through the dark, rainy night.

We're so close. I need you to hang on.

He rounds the corner and pulls into the ER lot, straight to the door as quickly and safely as he can.

Please just hang on.

He throws the bus into park and flings himself out the door and into the downpour. The back is already open, and the gurney is being lowered to the ground.

Please.

He shoulders his way in next to the gurney and starts compressions before Chim or Hen have the chance.

Please.

“Come on, Buck. Stay with me,” he pleads as the gurney moves through the doors, Hen rattling off Buck's stats to the on call staff.

Please.

“You need to stay with me, Buck. I need you to stay with me,” Eddie keeps going. He can't stop, not until he fixes this.

Please.

“Buck, please,” his voice cracks a little, “I need you to stay with me.”

Please.

There are hands pulling on his shoulders, but Buck’s heart still isn't beating, so he can't stop yet.

Please.

“Eddie, we gotta move. Let them do their jobs.” Bobby is right, of course, but he doesn't understand. Eddie needs Buck’s heart to beat.

Please.

The hands on his shoulders are more insistent, and he's pulled off of the gurney.

“No! I need… I need to keep going! I need his heart to beat!”

Please.

The gurney continues to roll away, and Eddie realizes he's been crying when a tear lands on his shaking hand.

“Please,” he begs, “I need him.”

The gurney bursts through the doors.

But he can still hear it.

Even through the chaos and the general panic, he can hear it as the doors close, leaving him on the wrong side.

He can hear it.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The monitor starts beeping steadily as Buck’s heart starts back up.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief just before he collapses.

[wikiangela-fanfics]

Fine - 6x10 coda

Words: 1622

Ao3

***

Eddie’s foot feels heavy on the gas pedal, while his hands grip the steering wheel tightly, to prevent them from shaking. He’s driving almost on autopilot, while trying his best to compartmentalize and focus on just getting to the hospital, trying not to think about Buck- about what’s happening in the back of the ambulance right now. 

He can do it, he’s great at compartmentalizing, no one does it better. He can focus on this one thing, on driving, and push everything else away for now. 

Otherwise he will break down, and he can’t afford to do that right now, not with… not with Buck’s life at stake. 

He can barely hear the sounds of Hen and Chim trying to- trying to save- He does his best to shut those sounds out, to ignore them, to focus.

Buck’s gonna be okay, he has to. Eddie can’t imagine a life without him, and he doesn’t even want to try. He doesn’t even know if he’s still- he just caught a glimpse, before Bobby took him away and told him to drive, he only saw Buck’s pale, unmoving face for a split second, and Chim was doing chest compressions, which means- but he doesn’t know if Buck- He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine and in no time he’ll come home to Eddie and Chris, and everything will be fine.

He feels tears well up in the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, and blinks them away. Not now. Now’s not the time.

He can’t fucking think about it now. Compartmentalize, Diaz, for fuck’s sake. The hospital. Getting to the hospital, that’s the priority right now.

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. If he wasn’t driving, he’d be losing his mind. But he can do that later. For now, he has to keep his shit together.

So, he focuses on taking even breaths, trying to keep the panic, that he feels arising, at bay. He focuses on the feeling of the steering wheel in his hands. On shifting gears when necessary. On controlling the speed, trying to drive as fast as possible without an accident. On the cars around them, that make way for the ambulance. On taking the right turns – even if knows the way to the hospital all too well now, and could drive there in his sleep. 

He’s silent the whole drive, tuning out all the sounds, until all he hears is his own breathing. When they get to the hospital, and Hen and Chimney get Buck out of the ambulance, and Bobby jumps out to go with them, Eddie doesn’t move. He doesn’t know for how long, it could be a few seconds, maybe a minute, an hour, maybe longer, it’s like time doesn’t exist anymore. His breaths become more shallow, while breathing starts becoming a challenge, his hands shake, his chest feels heavy, his heart hammering against it, and he feels dizzy, while tears start falling down his face. He can’t- he can’t see Buck like this. He’s not ready. He’ll never be ready. They’ve had their fair share of near-death experiences, but this is… 

He needs to keep it together for just a while longer. He needs to get out of the ambulance, he needs to make sure that Buck is- but what if he’s not? Eddie’s not sure he’d survive that.

“Eddie?” he hears Bobby, who comes up to the driver’s side, probably to check on him, after they gave Buck over to the doctors. The doctors, who will help him. Right? He’ll be fine. He has to be fine. “Eddie, you need to get checked out, too.” Bobby’s voice is soft, tentative, as if Eddie was about to break. Well, maybe that’s true. Eddie feels like he’s about to crumble into a million little pieces, and the only person who’d be able to piece him back together was just wheeled into the hospital, unconscious, maybe possibly even- Bobby opens the door, and reaches out for Eddie to take his hand. “Come on, let’s get you some fresh air.” he says, clearly seeing the state Eddie’s in. 

Eddie nods, gripping Cap’s hand so tightly, as if his life depended on it, and jumping out of the car. Bobby’s touch grounds him a little, but the world still spins, and he stumbles, but Bobby catches him and helps him stand on his feet.

“Eddie, look at me. Hey.” Eddie finds Bobby’s eyes. “Hey, breathe. Let’s breathe, together, alright?” Eddie feels even worse. Instead of being in the hospital with Buck, finding out if he’s- Instead of being there for, let’s be honest, basically his son, Bobby’s stuck out here with Eddie, because he can’t keep his shit together. Now is not the time to lose it, not yet. He still needs to go home, he needs to tell Chris- he hears himself sobbing, almost choking on air. He’d managed to keep himself from thinking about it until now… “Eddie. You can do this, come one, breathe. I’m right here with you.” his grip on Eddie tightens, and starts taking deep breaths, and Eddie tries to follow, tries to focus on Bobby, but the whole world is blurry and he feels like he’s dying, like he should be dying, because if Buck- his breath quickens again. “Eddie, hey, can you talk? Can you tell me what you need?” Bobby asks, continuing to guide Eddie’s breathing.

“Buck.” he whispers, barely audibly, it feels like he’s been saying nothing but his name since- since it happened. He’s not sure he’ll be able to say anything but his name ever again. He needs to see him, he needs to- 

“Buck’s inside, being taken care of by doctors.” Bobby’s voice is calm, somehow, he’s keeping his feelings in check, and it helps Eddie calm down a little, too. “They got his pulse back, he’s alive.” he adds, and even in his frantic and panicked state, Eddie can hear what he’s not saying. ‘For now. But he’s still unconscious. But he’s in critical condition. But he doesn’t have much time.’

There’s a part of Eddie, a part of his heart, that’s in this hospital, fighting for his life. And he’s still here, by the ambulance, barely holding it together, instead of going where his heart is being pulled to. He needs to calm down. He needs to go and see him, he needs to go home to his kid- to their kid. Shit, he can’t believe this is the first time he consciously thought this, and he might never have the chance to let Buck know what role in this family he really occupies, that he already has a kid, and that Eddie- that Eddie wants to spend the rest of his life by his side, if Buck will have him.

It takes a few minutes, or longer, or shorter, he’s not sure, he feels like he’s outside of his body right now. But finally, he gets his breathing under control. He’s still not able to utter even a ‘thanks’ to Bobby, who finally lets go of him, and claps him on the shoulder, when Eddie nods to indicate that he’s fine. Well, he’s not having a panic attack anymore, but he’s certainly not fine. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be, if he’s not able to look into those lively, cheerful, beautiful blue eyes again.

Without saying anything, he follows Bobby into the hospital, where they wait. They wait, and wait, and wait. Eddie’s pacing, he can’t sit in one place, he feels restless, his whole body longs for Buck, he needs to see him, touch him, make sure his heart is beating. He’s almost certain that if Buck’s heart stops, so will Eddie’s. He has to be fine. Has to, there’s no other option, because the world without Buck- the world without Buck would lose all its color, light, and happiness. And Eddie would have to- he’d have look into their kid’s eyes, and tell him once again, that his parent is-

He feels like he’s going to throw up. He can’t even think those words.

He doesn’t know how long it takes until he can see Buck. It might be hours, maybe days, maybe weeks, hell, he might as well have spent years just pacing this corridor, waiting for news about his- about his Buck. It feels like it, at least.

Buck’s in a medically induced coma. And when Eddie finally sees him, lying there, a tube in his throat, plugged into all the machines that keep him alive, he loses it again. It’s not a panic attack this time. He walks up to the bed and, with shaking hands, takes one of Buck’s lifeless hands into his, and then promptly falls to his knees, onto the floor. He starts crying, sobbing, bawling, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t care if anyone sees him, he’s not even sure anyone else is in the room right now, no one else exists but Buck and him. 

“Buck.” he whispers shakily, then repeats it a bit louder. “Buck.” His voice is hoarse, and he notices that his throat is sore. He remembers screaming Buck’s name at the top of his lungs earlier. He wants to keep screaming it, keep saying it, keep whispering it, keep repeating it, until Buck finally hears, and opens his wonderful eyes, looks at him, and flashes him the most charming of his smiles. But all he can do is sit here, hold Buck’s hand, and pray, pray to whoever’s listening, that his heart comes back to him, to them, to him and Chris. That his love will be fine. Because if he doesn’t… Eddie’s not going to be fine ever again. 

[very-feral-lesbian]

i think theres something to be said about the placement of eddie during the sneak peek of 6x11 and what picutures they have chosen to share for next weeks episode

please excuse the quality, im working on getting better screenshots

this is part of the preview that was shown after last nights episode to tease the next episode

in this clip, each member of the 118 are passing the glass doors, something they *dont* do according to buck last season but of course their team was hurt and they keep moving in

however chim, hen and bobby all stop once they see that bucks being wheeled back

but eddie doesnt, he keeps going. his face is full of determination and hurt and most importantly, fear. he cant stop himself from wanting to follow each movement of buck to make sure he is safe. he is at the forefront of the camera, the videography making it clear that him (and bobby) are the ones in main focus right now

and then they gave us this sneak peek for next weeks episode

i think theres alot to be said especially since this is one of only two photos released so far about the episode

we already know its going to be a dream/coma episode, but having this interaction of chris coming to the hospital to see buck during this coma speaks volumes

whether the writers like it or not, buck is chris’s second parent, it’s undeniable and this really shows that

chris has seen both of them in unspeakably terrible situations and has always always been a anchor for their recovery. it’s important to note that while is face is clearly showing that he is upset, he is also pretty neutral

and dont be mistaken, he loves buck to the depths of his soul but after seeing what eddie and buck have gone through when one of them is hurt, he knows he needs to be strong for them both

in general, i think its quite interesting that there is such a focus on this subject in the sneak peeks and i think its worth noting that nothing is unintentional

[diazpatcher]

A buddie 6x10 coda

And it doesn't feel real. Because a second ago Buck was smiling at him, laughing and joking about the weather. And now he was hanging 40 feet in the air, his helmet cracked on the ground.

"Buck!" Eddie hears someone scream, maybe himself? Maybe Bobby.

None of that mattered right now. Buck.

Only Buck mattered right now.

"Cap! What do we do?" Someone screams, and Eddie wants to throw up. Because. Because Buck had flinched, he had tried to grab the line before hanging on to life by a threat.

So it doesn't matter what they choose to do.

The fire truck is slick with rain Eddies boots slipping ever so slightly as he runs up the ladder. None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was Buck. The top of the ladder made this all seem so unreal. Like this was just another ones of Eddies nightmares where everyone he cares about dies. Except it isn't. And if he doesn't hurry up, Buck will die. After everything Buck did to finally be happy, he doesn’t get to die, not if Eddie has a say in the matter.

"Eddie! Eddie get down! It's too dangerous!"

His radio crackled with Hens frantic voice. It doesn't matter.

His hand reach for the line connected to Bucks harness. Pulling until his arms burn and his feet slip. This is not how it's going to end.

Eddie needs Buck. More than ever. He can't just leave him hanging not after the amount of times that Buck saved Eddie.

The rain had soaked through the line, making it slip from Eddies hands. For every inch he pulled up he lost two. It wasn't fair. He has to save Buck.

"Hen! Get a ne-" The sky lit up brightly as Eddie lost his grip.

No, no no no. He had slid down half way, barely hanging on. No no no.

Eddie had to get back up, he had to.

Buck was counting on him. He had to be useful.

His radio crackled Bobbys voice cutting through the thunder "Diaz, do you copy?"

Eddie felt his arm ache barely holding on. Barely. His glove had fallen off at some point his hand wet and cold.

Another rumble from the sky and suddenly all he felt was unspeakable pain, in his entire body. He lost his grip and the last thing he heard was his head hitting the metall of the truck.

[ironkissedmage]

This is the Moment of Just Letting Go

“Talk to me!” Eddie’s own voice rang in his ears as the sound of his heartbeat melded into the steady, unrelenting downpour around them.

His voice was raw, mangled, torn from chest in a way he couldn’t control. He wasn’t confident he sounded like himself anymore, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure anything could matter more than hearing Buck’s voice again.

If he didn’t focus on the way that Chimney was on top of Buck, if he ignored the hands that pushed down on his chest again and again, and just looked at Buck, it was almost like he was sleeping. Without Chimney’s hands, Buck’s chest moved on its own - just as it always had. Without everyone else around the gurney, it was like Buck had merely fallen asleep on them - like he did so often on Eddie’s couch after a few beers and some family time. Without the pouring rain, the lightning that came back in roaring bouts of thunder, the shouts of their team, and the turning of the wheels that led Buck into the back of the ambulance, Eddie could pretend that they were running a drill, that Buck was merely playing the part of a victim on the scene for some new training exercise that the department needed them to do.

But Eddie couldn’t ignore any of that.

The lightning flashed on in vicious mockery, the squeaky wheels on the gurney turned as they approached the doors, Chimney’s voice pleaded for Buck to come back to them, and Eddie’s voice began to fail him.

read on ao3

[ranchbuck]

clarity of catastrophe

buck/eddie | 1.5k | Teen

“It came out of nowhere,” Chris says.

“It’s called dry lightning.” There’s a shiver of excitement under your skin. You love learning new things, getting up close and personal, working with your hands, pulling apart the universe one discovery at a time. You never really know something until you’ve reached out and touched--

My 6x10 coda / coma buck fic

[wikiangela]

for a whole week I've been trying to write a fic where Buck's parents are still over and he has a new couch that his mom bought, and Eddie and Chris come to visit unexpectedly and basically let themselves in and are like at home (and Buck's parents are very confused) and Eddie's like passive aggressive towards the Buckleys lol

but I got sick and didn't have the energy to write anything (I barely worked on my wip but at least it's going better now lol)

maybe this week I'll finally write something again idk 😂

[clusterbuck]

i can’t control my brain

6x10 coda

buck always drives.

it’s insane, and inane, but that’s what eddie’s thinking as he clutches the steering wheel with both hands. that buck always drives when they go somewhere together, and now—

now eddie’s driving like his life depends on it, because it does. because buck’s life depends on it, and eddie’s pretty sure his life depends on buck’s.

his hands squeeze tighter, so tight the skin over his knuckles threatens to split open.

blood would spill over to coat his hands, run down his wrists and fall into his lap and it would be fitting, to turn himself inside out like that. it already feels like he left half of himself at the top of that ladder, watching buck be lowered into bobby’s arms and not knowing—

so it would be fitting, he thinks, in the vague, distracted way that thoughts like this come and go. if his insides were on the outside.

the thought comes back to him later, when buck’s been wheeled into the hospital by a team of ER doctors so practiced that eddie couldn’t tell a single thing from their expressions. bobby claps him on the shoulder and eddie flinches, the contact stinging like all of his nerves are on the outside of his body.

“hey, whoa,” bobby says, and eddie doesn’t understand how his voice can be so gentle at a time like this. “you got thrown around pretty heavy by that lightning strike, are you injured?”

“i’m—i didn’t—buck was the one that—” eddie mumbles.

bobby frowns, and signals to a nearby nurse. “you don’t remember going down?”

“i—oh,” eddie says, blinking. “i guess i did. but i’m fine, i’m not the one we’re supposed to be—”

“eddie,” bobby says, and stops him in his tracks. “i can worry about two people at once. i’m very good at multitasking. will you please just get checked out?”

“fine,” eddie sighs, if only to placate bobby. it’s not like anyone is going to be able to fix what’s wrong with him unless buck wakes up.

until buck wakes up.

somebody gives him the all-clear, and instead of going back to where bobby and hen and chimney are waiting, eddie wanders down one hallway, and then another, and another until he finally ends up outside a room.

outside the room. buck’s room, where buck lies motionless and pale, somehow dwarfed by the hospital bed despite his usually massive frame.

maybe it’s the fact that buck’s always seemed larger than life, and there isn’t much life left in him now.

eddie’s not sure how he got here. how, in a hospital with hundreds of rooms along dozens of corridors, he found his way to buck’s room. it doesn’t make any kind of logical sense, isn’t probable or statistically likely, but—he’s here, and buck’s inside, and—

“are you family?”

there’s a young doctor standing to his left, peering at him over the clipboard clutched to her chest.

“huh?” eddie asks, blinking a couple of times to try to focus on her.

“are you family?” she asks again. “he’s not really supposed to have visitors yet, but if you’re family—”

“i—yes,” eddie says, so fast the words trip over themselves on the way out. “i’m his—he’s my family.”

she gives him a careful smile, one he can’t read into no matter how hard he tries. she opens the door and lets him in, then stands in the open doorway for a moment. “he’s in a medically induced coma,” she says. “to give him time to heal. we’ll know more in twenty-four hours.”

“thank you,” eddie says, and stumbles over to the chair by buck’s bedside, barely making it before his knees give out. his hands find one of buck’s, weaving carefully around the tubes to clutch it. to ground himself. his head drops, and for a moment he just breathes, ragged, listening to the sound of the hospital equipment and the steady beat of buck’s heart.

when he looks up again, the door is closed and the young doctor is gone.

“buck,” eddie says, and realises it’s the first time he’s said buck’s name since he was screaming it on the ladder.

“buck,” he says again, just because he can. “listen to me. you’re not going to die. you hear me? you’re not dying on me right now.”

he takes a deep breath. “you’re not dying on us. you said you’d take chris to the space exhibit opening next month, remember?” he says. “come on, you wouldn’t back out of that, huh? and what about the treehouse you guys keep saying we should build? there’s so much you haven’t done yet.”

there’s so much we haven’t done, eddie thinks. so much i haven’t told you. so much i keep putting off saying, because there’s always tomorrow, right?

but the words get stuck in this throat on the way out. so he swallows, and blinks, and tries again. “buck—you can’t die before i ever—”

then he shakes his head. “you know what? no. i’m not doing this deathbed shit.” he pauses, almost like he expects buck to answer. but of course he doesn’t.

“i’m not doing this,” eddie repeats. “listen, if you want to know, you’ll just have to wake up so i can tell you to your face.”

he settles back in his chair, buck’s hand still loosely clasped in his. “it’s okay,” he murmurs. “i’ll wait.”

[ghosthunterbuck]

6x10 Coda

if that episode wrecked you as bad as it wrecked me, this won't help

Thirty seconds before Eddie got to Buck. 

Maybe another minute before they got him in the ambulance. 

Three minutes to the hospital. 

Five minutes without oxygen before the brain begins to take permanent damage. 

Eddie presses the gas pedal all the way to the floor. It’s still not fast enough. 

He can’t look at Bobby. Can’t risk taking his eyes off the road for even a split second because Buck is in the back of this ambulance and if Eddie loses his concentration for a moment it could cost him his life. 

Drive, he thinks, the only thought that’s safe. Drive. 

Eddie eases off the gas as they enter the ambulance bay, but doesn’t touch the brake until the last possible second. He jerks on the parking brake before the ambulance rolls back even an inch and throws himself outside. He sprints around to the back, and as soon as the gurney’s wheels touch the pavement, he jumps on and begins compressions. 

Eddie doesn’t think. Doesn’t allow himself to think because if he thinks it might occur to him that Buck’s odds of survival are worse than his were when he was shot. It might occur to him that this could easily be the last time he ever touches Buck’s still warm flesh. It might occur to him that Christopher is expecting them both to come home tomorrow, because Buck promised to make them Bobby’s famous chili and Buck never breaks a promise where he and Christopher are concerned. 

Eddie doesn’t think. 

Eddie can’t think. 

They burst through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, and in moments, someone is pulling him off Buck. He fights back. He keeps doing compressions. Buck needs him. 

“Eddie!” someone shouts. 

Eddie ignores them. 

“Eddie, you have to let them do their jobs!”

For the briefest of moments, Eddie falters. Hands find his shoulders and pull him back. 

“We’ll do everything we can,” a woman in scrubs says, and then he’s gone. 

Eddie heaves in a ragged breath and sags against the person behind him. Strong arms hold him up. 

“Eddie, they've got him,” Bobby says. 

I can’t do this again, Eddie thinks. 

…

The waiting room is cold and unnaturally quiet. Eddie’s uniform is soaked through. There’s a dull pain in his arm, one that’s been growing with each passing minute. 

Someone needs to call Maddie. 

Selfishly, Eddie hopes Chimney is the one to do it. He knows he’s going to have to say it out loud eventually, but he can’t. Not yet. Not until he knows exactly what he needs to prepare himself to say. 

Buck’s in the hospital. Again. You’d better bring some of that sparkling water he likes so much. 

Buck’s hurt. He’s going to be fine, but the doctors say he should rest until tomorrow. 

No, Buck’s not okay. The doctor’s don’t know when he’ll wake up. 

No, Buck’s not okay. The doctor’s don’t know if he’ll wake up. 

Buck’s dead. 

A sob jumps from the back of Eddie’s throat, and once the first one is loose, there’s nothing he can do to stop the ones that follow. Eddie hunches in on himself and squeezes his eyes shut. The room around him is closing in, and knowing he’s having another panic attack doesn’t make it any easier to handle. 

Arms encircle his shoulders and pull him tight against a chest he’s cried into before. 

“I– I can’t,” Eddie gasps. 

“I know,” Bobby whispers. 

His voice is wrecked. He sounds just as bad as Eddie, maybe worse. And Eddie– Eddie should be doing something to comfort him, too. Buck is Bobby’s just as much as he’s Eddie’s. But Eddie feels like a child, wrapped in his father’s arms, unable to do anything except cry. 

“It’s Buck,” Eddie sobs. 

“I know.”

“Bobby, I can’t lose him,” he admits. It feels like he’s saying more than that, but he can’t keep it in. “I can’t,” he repeats, over and over. 

I can’t do this again.

[xanthippe74]

The mood this year, as this header photo demonstrates, was Le Tired. Just physically and emotionally slogging along. Brain stuck on perpetual static. A pull-the-covers-over-my-head sort of year. I read a few books, watched a lot of shows, found new songs to listen to on repeat, and spent way too much time futzing around on Tumblr.

But that's not what this post is about! This is to remind myself that I did accomplish writer-ly things this year, even if it didn't feel like it sometimes. So here's my 2023 Fandom Year in Review:

Drarry

🐈 A Dreadful Invasion (of the Feline Persuasion) rated G | 6K words

Most of the time, it’s easy for Harry to forget that Draco Malfoy is his next-door neighbour—until the night Malfoy seemingly goes round the twist in his back garden. Of course Harry has to investigate. A birthday gift for @caroll-in.

🍷 Under the Table rated T, 4K words

A string of nearly-insufferable dinner parties has made Draco acquainted with Harry Potter’s completely insufferable, social-climbing boyfriend. But tonight it seems like Potter’s finally had enough, and Draco’s more than happy to watch it all play out from across the table.

Microfics: Different  |  Thalassophile  |  Role play  | Careless |  Mama’s Gun  |  Raven  |  You Should Probably Leave  |  Afraid of the Dark  |  Eerie

WIP progress: I added about 25K to my Drarry retelling of Howl's Moving Castle. The working title is "Skybound" and it will be about 55 to 60K words when complete (by spring 2024, god help me!). Featuring: lots of banter, secret identities, adventures and misadventures in a floating house, a plucky house-elf, and (of course) a fire demon who wants to make a bargain.

9-1-1 fics, HP recs, and 2023 highlights under the cut!

9-1-1/Buddie

🌧️ It pours, man it pours rated T | 11K words

An endless rainstorm. A head-on collision on a dark canyon road. Eddie and Buck find themselves stranded with a woman in labor after they’re cut off from the rest of the 118 by a flash flood. With the fate of their team unknown, can they weather the night ahead—and mend the rift Buck caused by trying to kiss his best friend?

💣 A Few Good Pranks rated T | 4K words

The firefighters of the 118 decide to give Bobby a turn at pranking them after seeing how disappointed he was to be left out. And since two heads are better than one, why not three? Or four? If only they could figure out who's pranking and who isn't, and who the intended victim is. It's all in good fun, though—as long as everyone is too distracted to notice that Buck and Eddie keep sneaking off alone.

❤️‍🩹Let It Be Me rated T | 1.8K words

After another Buckley Family reunion-turned-disaster, Buck makes a decision about his parents. Of course the 118 has his back. Or, Bobby employs some LAFD equipment to help Buck out—and tell him something he needs to hear.

Episode codas/fix-it ficlets: 1x01 | 1x03 | 2x01 | 2x03 | 6x10 | 6x11 | 6x12 | 6x13 | 6x15

WIP progress: First chapter of a season 3/canon divergence Buddie fic. Featuring: angst with a happy ending, a secret marriage of convenience, and pandemic bed sharing.

HP Rec List

I was inspired by this post to rec twelve favorite fan works from 2023 in twelve days in December. It actually took fourteen days, but I did it!

💖 12 Favorites from 2023 💖

(after posting those twelve, of course I thought of a few more faves that I missed. I'll try to share them soon!)

2023 Highlights

I'm so very grateful for the wonderful, funny, imaginative people here who shared their creative works, the memes that made them laugh, photos of their pets, gif sets of shows I didn't know I needed to watch, and insights into the characters we love. You all got me through the year, honestly.

I had a good time doodling some Halloween treats for Inbox Trick-or-Treating. I hope it will become an annual Tumblr event! Thanks to the folks who rang my doorbell that night and the other blogs who gave out treats.

I truly treasured every kudos, comment, and rec I received this year. I was also very fortunate to receive a few special gifts:

🎙️ EllaMcSmellBella recorded a Podfic of "Spooked in Salem," my Drarry 'Round the World fic.

🎙️ Spades/bumblingbees recorded a Podfic of "Crimson Neon."

📕 @cheriecherishchen wrote a lovely rec for "Vortex" and designed gorgeous book covers for that fic and its sequel, "Riptide."

✏️ @saijordison drew this incredible piece of art for "Riptide."

And finally, if you read all the way to the end of this post, I'm grateful for YOU. 😁

Wishing everyone a very Happy New Year and an excellent 2024!

[chaosandwolves]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you so much for tagging me @shortsighted-owl

The tag was perfect timing as I just posted my fic "Hold on" to AO3 that you can read here

He's angry at the universe, angry at the storm, angry at himself. Cause he didn't plan for this. It's never been a question to him if Buck would still be there in case something happens to Eddie himself. It was always a given. After all, it's been Eddie who's had multiple brushes with death. Buck was always supposed to live, to survive. Eddie, though…. If he's honest with himself he's been anticipating death's cold claws closing around his heart ever since they went down in that chopper.

Tagging @finduilasclln even though it's already Monday in our time zone but who cares.

[eddiediazes]

broken pieces fit together

[2.7k words] [rated: teen+] [post-6x10 coda that also scraps 6x11 spoilers for parts, sorry] [hurt/comfort cuddling getting together fic]

[read on ao3]

It’s the middle of the night - the kind of late where it might actually be early, and some of the light bleeding in through the kitchen window has more to do with the sun creeping up towards the horizon than it does with just light pollution in the city.

Eddie had stopped seeing this time of the night for a while. He got lucky. He still remembers, though, and it settles in his body like a kind of muscle memory. He’s well-acquainted with the ache in his skull that spreads out from his eyes, the way fatigue spreads through every one of his limbs. He’s got a glass of water sitting on the counter, and he keeps thinking about trying to make hot cocoa, but he can barely manage to make his fingers twitch to try and grab a pan. Instead, the images from his nightmares keep flashing behind his eyelids every time he manages to squeeze them shut, and it’s all he can do to stay upright.

He’s so, so tired, but so tense he can barely move, and he feels like there’s gravel in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow.

“Eddie?” A tired, familiar voice calls out behind him.

For two very separate reasons, Eddie startles. He shakes off his fatigue enough to turn around and cross the room, and he only stops once he’s within arm’s reach of Buck, just in case. He reaches out as if he might steady him, but hesitates with his palms hovering over the bare skin of Buck’s biceps.

“What are you doing up?” Eddie asks him quietly, eyes checking over Buck’s body for any unfamiliar signs of further damage - catching only briefly on the new scar that spreads over his chest.

“Woke up and you were gone,” Buck mumbles, scrubbing at one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I got - I don’t know, just- I don’t wanna say nervous.”

Eddie shakes his head just slightly, and finally reaches out to wrap his fingers around Buck’s right elbow, far away from the scar. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You should be resting.”

“I can walk, Eddie,” Buck grumbles - but as Eddie steers him back towards the bedroom, he follows the touch easily.

“I know that, but you still shouldn’t be straining yourself.”

“Don’t really think stumbling into your kitchen counts as straining myself.”

They make it back to the bed, and Buck sits down, as slowly and gently as he’s able. Eddie puts an arm behind him and supports him as he lays back against the pillows. Then he goes around to the other side of the bed to climb in.

It’s a new arrangement, and one they haven’t actually talked about out loud. Obviously Buck couldn’t sleep on the couch right now - and Buck couldn’t seem to stand the idea of Eddie doing it either, so sharing the bed had been the unspoken compromise.

Buck hasn’t really said much about it, but it’s starting to become clear that he had some kind of dream in the coma that he hasn’t managed to shake off completely. Every time he wakes up now, Eddie can see the way his eyes seek out whoever else is in the room, the way they look for familiar landmarks that he can use to ground himself.

Sometimes Eddie wonders if that’s why Buck hadn’t ended up at Chim and Maddie’s new place, and had instead ended up here, at the Diaz house. The loft’s stairs had made it out of the question until Buck was further along in his recovery, but otherwise Eddie had less space than Bobby and Athena or Chim and Maddie - but here Buck is, all the same, sharing Eddie’s bedroom.

All Eddie really knows is that he’s grateful. It soothes him more than he can put into words to have Buck here and close. Even if sometimes the nightmares do still push Eddie out of bed, it still helps to be able to wake up, roll onto his side, and to see Buck lying there next to him, breathing deeply.

Right now, as Eddie does that very thing, he finds Buck looking back at him.

“You don’t have to get out of bed when you have a nightmare, you know,” Buck whispers.

Eddie huffs out through his nose and turns properly onto his side, tucking a hand under his pillow. “I was trying not to wake you up.”

Buck huffs out a little breath through his nose. “That’s sweet and all, Eds, but I’ve been sleeping like shit anyways. I’d rather-” Pausing, Buck flicks his eyes up to the ceiling. He opens his mouth, though, and closes it again, and shakes his head.

“You’d rather me wake you up than you wake up alone?” Eddie finishes softly - as gently as he can make his mouth take shape around the words, trying to sand off any edges that might cut or puncture.

Sighing, Buck nods, just one simple move that tucks his chin down towards his chest. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Reaching over with his free hand, Eddie hooks two of his fingers over Buck’s palm, right where it’s resting open on the blankets. “I don’t know what it is that’s - you don’t have to tell me, you know. Not until you want to. But I don’t really want you out of my sight right now either, Buck.”

Another little huff - the closest thing to a laugh that Buck seems able to manage for now. “Think you and Bobby and everybody else would be happiest if you could just set me up in a glass case and keep an eye on me for a little bit.” Buck’s hand twitches a little, then he shifts so he can tangle his fingers with Eddie’s properly, and squeeze tight. “The worst part right now is, I don’t know if I’d mind.”

Nudging closer on the bed, as close as he can get without touching, Eddie pulls Buck’s hand up and wraps his other hand around it, too, curling up around it, fighting against the desperation he feels in every cell of his body to press his lips to Buck’s knuckles or the point of his shoulder. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re all in this with you.”

He tilts his head back up and finds that Buck is looking down at him, right down at his face rather than the awkward curve of his spine or even where their hands are interlocked.

“Eddie, what was your nightmare about?” Buck asks quietly.

Unable to stop it, Eddie laughs, dark and a little strangled. “What do you think? You- I don’t have to say it, Buck, we both know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” Eddie urges, shifting around so he can move one hand up to Buck’s chin, nudging it towards him with just one press of his index finger. “Don’t apologize. You weren’t being reckless, we both took all the precautions, it just- happened. You got struck by lightning.” His tone edges into something desperate, and he squeezes at Buck’s hand like it’ll help emphasize his point. “I saw you dangling there - and I don’t think I can ever unsee it. I felt responsible, and I couldn’t help you, and then I couldn’t even do compressions until we got to the hospital, but - please don’t blame yourself. I’m just-”

But there, Eddie stops, because any single word he could say falls short.

He isn’t just happy or relieved or grateful or glad. He can’t make a single one of those words come out. Instead, finally, he manages to edge out, through the grip his own emotions have on his windpipe, “I don’t even know what I would have done, if you weren’t- If anything had happened to you.”

“You-” Buck pauses, and blinks at Eddie. “You sound like how I felt, when you got shot.”

“If you felt like this, I don’t know how you did it,” Eddie admits.

This time when Buck laughs, it’s a little more like a wheeze - a little more sound than the huff. “I still don’t know how I did it. I didn’t even feel like I was - functioning. But I had to be.”

Those days in the hospital, haunting the waiting room waiting for news and feeling like a hollowed out shell - Eddie remembers them well. If Buck really felt like that-

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk about it,” Eddie says, and he sounds like he’s choking back tears, probably because he is.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that, too.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Still isn’t your fault.”

“Still wish I could do something about it.”

“You’re here,” And that - now, out of sheer relief, and the way it’s sweeping through his body all over again, Eddie does pick Buck’s hand up, and he avoids kissing his knuckles only by pressing them against his cheek instead - by feeling the warmth of Buck’s skin pressed just there against his face, just by the corner of his mouth. “You’re alive , Buck. You’re doing plenty.”

“I felt like-” Buck can’t shift much, on the bed, but he turns his hand and brushes his knuckles more deliberately against Eddie’s cheek, down towards the line of his jaw. “Just the fact that you let me take care of you helped me so much. And you couldn’t even - you kept apologizing for not being able to do things on your own, and every single thing you let me do for you, every thing I got to help with, felt like a gift, because you were still here to ask me for it.”

Eddie nods, just once, and swallows. “I know the feeling.”

“Eddie…” But Buck trails off there, and he doesn’t say anything else.

Silence stretches out between them, but their eyes stay locked, and Buck’s fingers are brushing restlessly over the shape of Eddie’s ear.

“I love you,” Eddie says finally, shifting his grip down to Buck’s wrist, thumb pressed against his pulse. “I don’t know that I’ve ever - said it in those exact words, but I should have. When I was telling you about the will or thanking you for helping me out or just - any time you’re over here, I should have said it. I’ve said it fifty different ways without ever telling you that, and it was all I could think about when we didn’t know if you were gonna wake up.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says - and now that his hand is free, he presses his fingers gently against the mole just below Eddie’s eye. “No matter what, Eddie. I love you, and I love Chris, and I’m so - I’m so glad that I have you in my life, and I’m sorry if any of my stupid - soul searching happiness bullshit made you feel like that wasn’t true.”

That actually makes Eddie smile, a real genuine smile for the first time since he sent Buck up that ladder. “Buck, c’mon. I knew it wasn’t about that.”

“I’m not-” Buck shakes his head, and moves both his hands, reaching them over towards Eddie. “Can you help me turn, please? I need to be facing you for this, I have to do it right.”

He doesn’t even try to ask exactly what it is that Buck’s doing, or trying to do. Instead, he nudges an arm under Buck’s waist and grabs onto one of his hands, and pulls him up onto his side, holding his breath as he tries to make the movement as smooth as possible. Buck exhales with him, once they’re both settled - but suddenly, they’re almost nose to nose. Eddie’s arm is still tucked under Buck’s side, and Buck doesn’t startle or pull away, he just settles there, his hand still holding tightly onto Eddie’s, keeping him close.

“Hi,” Buck says softly.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, just a little bit breathless.

“What I realized isn’t just that I was already happy in general or that I was implying something by saying that I wasn’t, that some nebulous thing was missing. It was-” Buck pauses, and bites at his lip for a moment. “I had this dream where everything in my life was different. And I had never been a firefighter, so we were never partners. I never worked at the 118. And in some ways it was this - picture perfect postcard life, but I felt sick to my stomach, because it was wrong - it was so wrong, and I woke up and realized that I don’t want any of that. I don’t want what I thought life would be like or might be like - I want to feel secure where I already am. I’m not gonna be happy unless it’s here - with you, and Chris - and with the rest of the 118, too, because they’re my family, but my whole - the thing that was missing wasn’t a person, or some outside thing. It was just you. It was the rest of what I didn’t think I could have, with you. Some other couch and some other family isn’t gonna cut it. Someone else’s kid-” Buck finally cuts off, and he tips his head down, breaking eye contact. “I would do anything to get back to you.”

“And you did,” Eddie reminds him quietly, so awestruck it feels like he’s been staring into the sun. The room is actually almost light now, and he can hear birds chirping somewhere down the street. “You came back. And you’re here - in this house, in my bed, instead of with anybody else. And every time you let me help you with anything, since you moved in here, I want to tell you thank you for it. Because it’s proof that you’re alive, and you’re here, and you’re breathing, and I still have a chance.”

“A chance to do what?” Buck asks, tipping his head back up.

“To tell you that I have never loved anyone the way I love you,” Eddie murmurs. “Maybe even, if I got really lucky, to kiss you.”

Buck’s face lights up, and it puts any ray of sunlight to shame. “Eddie.”

“Can I?”

“Please.”

So Eddie does. He shifts just enough to close the centimeter or so that’s left between their mouths, and he brushes his lips against Buck’s. Buck’s mouth is still damp, from the way he’s been biting his lips all throughout their talk, and it means that their lips catch for just a moment, stick in a way that’s somehow both a little uncomfortable and a little perfect all at once. Eddie pulls back just to feel the drag of it, but Buck follows him forward and Eddie gives up, pushing closer again instead, pressing in harder to kiss Buck properly.

It still isn’t rough - there’s no teeth, no biting or tugging, because Eddie is probably being overly cautious in light of Buck’s recovery. The kisses are thorough, though. Slow and lush and lingering - Eddie turns his head to literally brush his mouth against Buck’s, back and forth, a kind of nuzzle. Then he ducks in and kisses Buck’s top lip and his bottom lip in turn, truly trying to feel out the lines in Buck’s lips, the texture, the feel and the warmth of his mouth. Then he opens his own mouth to taste, to lick over the salt of Buck’s skin and to press their tongue together as gently as he can.

They kiss until Buck starts to shiver, and Eddie pulls back out of concern only to find his pupils wide and dark, and they snap right to Eddie’s face as soon as he can focus.

“Eddie,” Buck says out loud, his voice still rough.

“6 out of 10?” Eddie asks, knowing full well that it was the best kiss he’s ever given in his life.

“When I’m feeling better I’m gonna hit you for that,” Buck says - and then he tips forward again, pressing his mouth against Eddie’s, kissing him again, and again, and again, a series of damp little smudges to each corner of Eddie’s mouth and then right in the center. “10 out of 10. 100 out of 10. Keep kissing me like that and it might actually cure me, I’m - 70% sure.”

“Only 70%?” Eddie repeats, wrapping a hand around the back of Buck’s neck. “I think we can do better than that.”

So Eddie tugs him close again, and slides his tongue back between Buck’s lips, and he feels the hum against his tongue, and he shivers with it.

Outside - the sun climbs into the sky, and the birds start to sing in earnest, and any lingering signs of the storm are cleared away.