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#6x11 coda
tails89 · 1 year
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911 season 6x11 coda
500 words
Buck doesn’t want a new couch.
He also doesn’t have the energy to argue with his mom right now, so Buck slumps back in the armchair watching her fuss with the tape measure.
To be honest, all he really wants to do is sleep.
He’d been feeling good in the hospital, when the furthest he needed to shuffle was from his bed to the attached bathroom. But now, the burns on his hands and knee— matching splotches of blistered skin— are beginning to ache as his painkillers wear off.
He could ask for more, but then his parents would worry, and Buck isn’t sure how to handle that. It’s not something he’s used to.
So he lets his mom measure the living space and doesn’t think about the couch he’d rather be on.
“You know what, I think I’m going to lay down for a bit.”
Buck waves off his dad’s offers of assistance, rising slowly, his ribs protesting the movement.
At the bottom of the stairs, he hesitates, his hand gripping at the railing, before making his way up to his room, one small step at a time.
Step.
What had he been thinking, renting a lofted apartment?
Step.
The next place he gets is going to be a single level.
Step.
Why hadn’t he gone home with Eddie?
The thought stops him in his tracks.
“Evan?” His moms face appears on the other side of the railing. “You okay?” Her brows are knit with concern, which is not an expression Buck is used to seeing in her.
“I’m fine.” He takes another step as if to prove his point, then another, and another, until he’s upstairs in the relative privacy of his room.
It had made sense at the time.
Eddie has his own responsibilities. He has Chris. He doesn’t need the extra responsibility of looking after Buck too.
But he’d offered. And Buck had said no.
His mom had said, “don’t be ridiculous, you’ve got us,” so Buck had smiled and told Eddie thank you, but he had all the support he needed.
Buck takes a seat on his bed, easing himself back until he’s lying against the pillows.
“Oh, well this will have to go.” His moms voice floats up from downstairs. “There’s just no room.”
Eyes closed, Buck digs his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. It vibrates in his hand with an incoming message.
Eddie: Hope you’re settling in okay. Let us know when you feel up to visitors, Chris is already asking when we can come see you.
The smile pulls at Buck’s lips, unbidden, and he hits the call icon before he can talk himself out of it.
“Hey Buck. What’s up?”
The words bring a rush of warmth to his chest.
“Hey.” Buck wets his lips. “I— uh. What would you say if I told you I changed my mind,” he asks, heart pounding in his chest. He wonders briefly if Dr Becker would consider this strenuous exercise.
“Things with your parents going that well?” Eddie asks, amusement colouring his tone. There’s a pause, like he’s waiting on Buck to say something, then, “I’d say I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah, that— that sounds great.”
“Okay.” Buck can hear the jingle of car keys through the phone. “I’ll see you soon, Buck.”
He tips his head back against the pillows as the call disconnects, collecting himself for the slow shuffle back down the stairs.
Looks like he’ll get the couch he wants after all.
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chaosandwolves · 1 year
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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.
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3,2k words, 6x10 and 6x11 coda
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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. 
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les-pompiers118 · 1 year
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Sleep, and call it dreaming
Buddie | 6x11 coda | 1000-ish words | not rated
content warning: PTSD and injury recovery
Companion piece to Weep, and call it singing. Title from "Call It Dreaming" by Iron & Wine.
Now posted to AO3 here.
On his first night home from the hospital, at approximately 2:00 AM, Buck is jolted from another attempt at falling asleep by the rumble of a truck below his windows.
It sounded like thunder.
He feels around in the dark for his phone, then squints against the brightness of the screen when he unlocks it. No storms anywhere in Southern California, according to his weather app. Frustrated, Buck kicks off the duvet and gets out of bed.
 Get ahold of yourself, Buckley. Everything’s fine. You’re fine.
It’s weird. He didn’t have trouble sleeping at the hospital after he came out of his coma. The hushed voices of the nurses in the hallway at night and the faint beeping noises from nearby rooms were kind of soothing. As eager as he was to be discharged and get the hell out of there, the hospital felt… safe.
Maybe it was a mistake not to let his parents stay here with him. Sure, it was nice—if a little surreal—to be fussed over at first. After a while, though, their presence felt overwhelming, much like the cloying scent of the half dozen floral arrangements on his dining table.
So Buck told everyone he’d be okay alone. He walked his parents and Maddie to the door and promised to text if he needed anything; he put all the flowers out on the balcony. Then he sat at his table to relish the silence, read the get well cards people had sent him, and soak up the familiarity of home without someone asking how he was feeling every five minutes. It was peaceful. Nice.
Until he tried to go to sleep.
Buck has to wonder: Is this how it’s going to be? Long days of no strenuous activity, followed by endless nights of jumping at every loud noise and worrying about his lungs seizing up again or slipping back into that strange, purgatory-like version of his life if he falls asleep? He’d already been lying in bed for hours when that damn truck hit a bump outside, and now here he is, shoving things around in his refrigerator trying to find some water.
There’s so much food in there, more than Buck can possibly eat by himself. Who’s been cooking for him, anyway? When his 118 family wasn’t camped out in the ICU waiting room, they must have been working and taking care of their own families. Their lives didn’t stop just because he got hurt.
At long last, Buck locates the pitcher behind a tall container of what looks like Bobby’s chili and pours himself a glass. It tastes stale, like it was sitting in the fridge the entire time he was in the hospital. With a weary grunt, Buck gets off the stool and goes to the sink to refill the pitcher with fresh water. It’s then that the watering can on the windowsill catches his eye.
Shit. His houseplants. It’s been almost two weeks.
A quick poke at the calathea above the sink surprises Buck. The soil is cool and damp around his finger. Walking through the dim apartment, he finds the other plants in the same condition, which means someone was watering them while he was in the hospital.
Maddie is the first person who comes to mind, since she brought all the flowers and cards over from the firehouse. But Buck knows for a fact that every plant in her house is fake. He teases her about it regularly—how can someone so good at taking care of people not trust herself with houseplants? If she wasn’t the one keeping Buck’s plants alive, it can only be one other person.
Eddie. Eddie looked after his apartment for him.
Buck sets the watering can on his coffee table and drops into the armchair. It’s just the kind of thing Eddie would do (and not mention doing), so Buck shouldn’t be surprised. His throat tightens anyway as he thinks about Eddie letting himself in, tending to the plants, taking out the garbage, maybe tidying up a bit. He was here, in Buck’s space, which is unbearably quiet and dark now.
Grimacing, Buck reaches up to turn on the floor lamp. His left shoulder is still a bit sore, reminding him (along with the tightness of the newly-healed skin on his palms) that he still has some recovering to do. The light doesn’t help. If anything, it makes the place feel emptier.
He wants to call Eddie, but it’s two in the morning. He wants to hear Eddie’s voice, even if it’s only for a few minutes. With all the visitors in his hospital room, they haven’t had a real conversation since the accident. Buck could ask to talk for a little while—about normal things, everyday boring stuff, like what’s been going on at work since he’s been gone, or anything that happened with Chris lately.
But it’s two in the morning.
Buck turns off the lamp. He wanders back to the kitchen, picks out an apple from one of the fruit baskets, then lets it slip from his fingers again. God, he’s so tired. Everything’s starting to blur around the edges of his vision, and his body feels like it’s full of sand. The only thing to do is haul himself back upstairs and try again.
Gripping the edge of the duvet, Buck pulls it over himself as he lies back on the pillows. Outside, a siren wails in the distance—a lone police car, off to some emergency while most of the city sleeps. Tries to sleep. Should be asleep, dammit.
2:57 AM. Before he can think about it, Buck finds himself unlocking the phone and opening his contacts. He curls onto his side as it rings, then rings again. Two tugs on a lifeline, asking to be pulled to safety.
“Buck?” Eddie says groggily. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Hey, did you water my plants for me?”
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messyhairdiaz · 1 year
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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
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very-feral-lesbian · 1 year
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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
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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
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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
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jjudaslips · 1 year
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it comes in flashes (but when it passes i see your eyes) | 5.4k
summary:
“So you’re a firefighter?” Buck asks, desperate for a new topic.
Thankfully, Chimney takes the subject change in stride.
“Yeah, going on fourteen years.”
Buck lets out a low whistle.
“Before I got hired here, I thought about applying to the fire academy.” he admits.
or, the five people you meet in your coma dream
The first time the guy comes in, it’s a slow night. The usual Thursday crowd is mingling around the karaoke, where a group of girls is performing a drunk rendition of an ABBA song. It’s not a bad karaoke night to be on shift, Buck thinks. Even after their fourth cocktail each, the girls still sound better than most of their karaoke aficionados. Buck’s busy drying some glasses, humming along to the music when the guy walks in. Buck barely manages to say “Welcome to The Little Dagger!” before the man is collapsing on the stool opposite him with a huff. With his shoulders drooping and downcast eyes the guy looks like a walking heartbreak. He has a red, angry scar in the middle of his forehead and he’s wearing a firefighter’s uniform. There’s something familiar about him, like a memory from a half-remembered dream.
“Give me a full glass of your strongest vodka. Straight. No ice.” the man says, staring into Buck’s eyes as if daring him to say anything.
Buck has been a bartender for long enough to know that sad, heartbroken patrons can be divvied up in two categories: those who want him to lend them his ear and possibly his shoulder, and those who just want to drown their sorrows in silence. This guy clearly belongs to the latter category, so he just nods and turns around, reaching for the Stolichnaya on the top shelf.
“How tall are you?”
Buck turns back around slowly, vodka in hand.
“Six foot two. Why?”
“Of course you’re six foot two. I walk into one bar to wallow in peace and the fucking bartender is six foot two. Of course.” The man laments, ignoring Buck’s question.
Buck almost takes offense, but then he notices the man’s hands lightly shaking where he’s laid them down on the bar. Maybe this guy belongs to the former category after all. Buck grabs a tumbler and pours him a generous amount of vodka, sliding it gently towards him. The man chugs one third of the glass and then he’s off again.
“This is why she left me, you know?” he says, hands tightening around the tumbler. “She wanted someone taller, more muscular, less nerdy. And I’m not making it up, she actually said those exact words. Can you believe her?”
“Uh…”
read on ao3
tagging some mutuals <3
@diazly @trashendence @evcndiaz
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clusterbuck · 1 year
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lights will guide you home
6x11 coda (buck’s version | eddie’s version)
buck barely waits for his parents’ uber to drive away before he gets into his jeep and drives to eddie’s.
it’s been three days since he got out of the hospital. three days since his parents walked into his loft as if they belonged there.
two days since buck realised they didn’t.
once the euphoria of his survival faded, they’d gone back to being puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit. pieces that look like they’re part of the same picture, until you put them all together and realise none of the lines connect.
buck knows his parents are trying, but—
it’s easier, he thinks, when they try from the other side of the country.
it’s been three days since he got out of the hospital and the doctors told him he’ll make a full recovery, as long as he rests enough to let his heart and lungs heal. and he’s been following orders, he really has, but he’s never breathed as easy as when he pulls up to the curb outside of eddie’s house.
buck walks up to the door, and he’s about to turn the handle and let himself in when something stops him.
he knocks on the door instead.
eddie opens in moments, the confusion on his face turning into a grin when he sees buck. there’s a beat, and then they fall into each other. buck’s not sure who moves first, just that eddie’s arm are strong around him and when he sags agains eddie’s chest, eddie holds him up.
“i thought your parents were still in town?” eddie says when they’ve moved inside. he’s in the kitchen, pouring cups of coffee, and buck sprawls across eddie’s couch.
“just left,” buck calls back. “not a moment too soon.”
“that bad?” eddie asks as he walks into the living room, one eyebrow raised, and hands buck a cup of coffee.
buck takes a sip as he thinks about it. “not… bad,” he finally says. “just weird. it’s like they’re trying to pretend the last thirty years didn’t happen.”
eddie just nods, both hands wrapped around his cup. the silence is comfortable, and buck feels it settle into his bones. he could live forever in moments like this, he thinks.
“my, uh. my mom bought me a couch,” buck eventually says.
eddie huffs a laugh. “a couch?”
“yeah, she said the chair wasn’t enough.” buck wrinkles his nose. “it’s uncomfortable.”
“is that why you look like you’re about to merge with mine?” eddie asks, gesturing at buck with his coffee cup.
“you have a good couch,” buck shrugs.
“well,” eddie says, with an amused smile. “you’re welcome to it anytime.”
buck hums into his coffee.
“so,” eddie says after a moment. “coma dream, huh?”
buck bursts out laughing. “that’s subtle.”
“hey,” eddie says, holding his hands up. “i don’t know how you’re supposed to subtly segue to a coma dream.”
“i suppose that’s fair,” buck says. “doesn’t really come up much.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know, i mean—it was weird. if kind of felt like one of those horror movie things where everything looks perfect on the surface, and then—”
“your subconscious is a horror movie?” eddie asks, and buck lobs a throw cushion at him. eddie acts indignant, but buck knows his coffee cup was already empty. it was never going to make a mess.
“more like… my subconscious was showing me a horror movie,” buck says. “to make me understand.”
“d’you think it worked?” eddie asks.
buck shrugs. “i’m here, aren’t i? i came back. i didn’t stay.”
eddie’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with the handle of his empty mug. “you weren’t tempted?” he finally asks. “to stay with—chimney said something about daniel—”
“no,” buck says, and he doesn’t hesitate. “i wasn’t tempted. it wasn’t—i wanted to come home.”
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ghosthunterbuck · 1 year
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on couches and the universe
(buddie) (683 words) (6x11 coda) in which margaret buckley is NOT allowed to be the solution to the couch problem <3
The couch doesn’t fit.
It takes everything Buck has not to burst out laughing, because of course it doesn’t. Why would it? It’s not like his Mom had painstakingly measured the entire apartment while Buck watched bemusedly from the chair. Oh wait.
“I just don’t understand,” Margaret says, hands on her hips. “It should be perfect!”
“Maybe it’s a sign from the universe,” Buck says with a half grin. “I have to find my own couch.”
Margaret frowns. “I can find the right one for you, I know it.”
“Look, Mom, it’s fine, I’ll get one when I get one. It’s not like it was with my leg, I can get up the stairs just fine.”
Margaret swallows and looks away uncomfortably. “Evan—” she starts, but then doesn’t say anything to follow.
Buck grimaces. Instinctively, he wants to apologize for bringing it up, but— the voice in his head that apparently turns into bizarro Bobby when he’s in a coma tells him he’s got nothing to apologize for, and he’s pretty sure it’s right.
After a moment of tension, Margaret sighs. “I’d better go call the store to return this.” She steps back into the kitchen, away from the couch that refused to wedge itself in place under the stairs.
Buck hesitates a moment, then steps out on the balcony to make a call of his own.
“Hey,” Eddie says, soft and warm and familiar, and in a moment all the tension Buck hadn’t realized he was carrying seeps from his shoulders.
“Hey yourself,” Buck replies, leaning against the wall and looking out at the city.
“How’s the new couch?” Eddie asks, and this time Buck doesn’t even try to stop himself from laughing.
“It doesn’t fit,” he chuckles.
“And that’s funny because…?” Eddie asks. Buck care hear the bemused smile he’s sure adorns Eddie’s lips.
“Because!” Buck says, gesturing wildly. “The universe or something.”
Eddie is silent for a few moments. “You know,” he says, a little more deliberately, “I think I’m starting to buy into this universe you keep talking about.”
Buck gasps dramatically. “You, Eddie Diaz, a believer?”
Eddie huffs out a small breath. “Yeah, well, something obviously has it out for you and couches,” he says.
“Nah,” Buck replies. “It’s just helping me keep the space open for the right one.”
“Maybe so,” Eddie says softly.
A comfortable silence envelops them, interrupted only by the distant sounds of traffic. Buck’s pretty sure he could stay like this for hours, quiet, resting, listening to Eddie breathe on the other end of the line. His mind wanders, though, and within minutes, Buck speaks again.
“I think I need to ask my parents to go home,” he admits, glancing back at the sliding glass door to make sure it’s closed.
“Why?” Eddie asks, not judgmental or even particularly curious. Just… giving him space.
Buck chews on his lower lip. “In my dream, my parents were there, right? And it was—it was almost happy, you know?”
Eddie hums an acknowledgement but says nothing.
“And they’re trying, I know they are,” Buck continues. “But there’s all this history, and I can’t help but think they wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t been, you know, already here.”
“You’re allowed to need some space,” Eddie reminds him gently.
Buck ducks his head and smiles. “I know,” he says. “I think I just—need some time to separate this version of my parents from the ones in my head.”
“Well, you might not have a couch,” Eddie says, “but I do. It’s yours, no questions asked.”
Buck laughs softly, “I might just take you up on that,” he says.
“You’d better,” Eddie says. “I know it’s only been a day, but Christopher’s been vibrating out of his skin asking to see you.”
“I miss him too,” Buck says. “I think—I can’t just run away from this, you know? But uh—”
“After,” Eddie says, when he doesn’t complete the thought. “Talk to them, and then as soon as you’re done—we’ll be waiting.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Buck says softly.
“I know you will.”
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mellaithwen · 11 days
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Seven Fic(s) Sunday 😅
HELLO! I was feeling unhinged so rather than post seven sentences from one fic, here’s seven fics with one or two sentences i know i know need helpppp 🙃
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1) the 5x06AU
When he sees how cinched the plastic around his wrists has gotten, how awful the deep red grooves are, a cruel voice whispers in the back of his head; you did that.
2) ren’s very overdue birthday fic
Even in the limited torchlight, Buck can track the path of disturbed earth, mud, and rocks leading back to his awkward position at the base of the incline, in the wake of what he imagines was a pretty accurate impression of a slip-n-slide.
3) the appendicitis fic
Buck carefully slices half a peach into even smaller pieces, and watches on tiredly as Isabel reaches for them—timidly at first—before throwing caution to the wind and grabbing them in her tiny fist, squishing their juices all over her fingers, and handing the mush back to her father as a gift.
“Oh for me?” Buck says graciously as he accepts the slobbery-fruit from her hand. “Thank you so much!”
4) the bobby coda 6x11
“They’re his favorite,” Maddie says then, sounding touched at the sincerity, and Bobby nods to let her know that even though he knew as much already, he doesn’t mind the confirmation. “Hates the peanut ones. He used to get so mad when our mom forgot. He’d scrunch his little nose up so tight—”
5) the pneumonia fic
“Easy—don’t fight the vent, okay? Just–just—can you nod if you can hear me?”
6) the buddie coda 6x12
Untangling himself from the soft, warm throw that Eddie must have draped over him in the night, Buck lets his eyes readjust to the darkness.
7) aaaand trapped fic #3
Eddie can’t help but smile in response and while he doesn’t turn around to look, somehow he just knows that Bobby is rolling his eyes at the two of them flirting while trapped in a cave-in.
Thank you for tagging me @daffi-990 and @glorious-spoon <3
I’ll taaaag the wonderful writers who inspire me daaaily @homerforsure @princessfbi @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @shortsighted-owl @renecdote @hopeintheashes @capseycartwright @thisissirius @woodchoc-magnum @buckactuallys @kananjarus @lovebuck @like-the-rest-of-la @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @zainclaw @fleurdebeton @fcntasmas @nymika-arts and @littlespoonevan 💕
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burnthatbridge · 1 year
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let me know you (bedhead and morning breath)
buddie | E | 6k | 6x11 coda (sort of) buck hasn't gotten off since the lightning strike. eddie watches him do something about it.
When Eddie wakes, it’s to Buck’s arm slung across his chest, Buck’s ankle hooked over his, and Buck’s erection pressing into his hip. 
Two out of three of those aren’t unusual. 
It’s six weeks since the lightning. Five weeks and two days since Buck woke up. Four weeks and three days since he was released from hospital. Four weeks exactly since he came home, came to stay at the Diaz house while he recuperates, like he should have from the start. 
It’s been three weeks and four days since they started sharing the bed. 
Initially, Eddie had slept on the couch, some strange inversion of when Buck stays over, some odd mirror of when Buck had moved in to help him recover from the bullet wound. But after a few days of nightmares for one or both of them — Eddie finding himself at his own bedroom door much the way he used to find himself at Chris’ after the tsunami, looking in on the shadowed lump of Buck under his covers, staring long enough to convince himself he’s breathing, and then longer still; or waking to Buck’s heavy, uncoordinated footsteps stumbling down the hall to peek in on Chris and then come to the lounge, come to Eddie — and Buck starting to make noises about moving to the couch himself because, really, he’s fine, Eddie, he swears, Eddie had caved and allowed himself the comfort of sleeping beside Buck, the assurance of knowing that Buck wouldn’t do himself further damage by moving to the couch before he’s properly healed. 
So, it’s not been unusual for Eddie to wake these past few weeks with Buck pressed against his side, arms and legs cuddling him close, face tucked into his neck. Or to wake curled into Buck’s side himself. 
Honestly, the erection isn’t something Eddie hasn’t experienced before either. It’s just been a while. Eddie’s woken up hard several times since he returned to his own bed, even just the previous morning — thankfully with Buck spooned up against his back, not slotted along his front, and so well out of range. But Eddie hasn’t felt the poke of Buck’s morning wood since quarantine, when four people in the close quarters of the loft had Eddie the one in Buck’s bed. 
read more on ao3
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911 6x11 Coda
Read in AO3 too
“So this dreamland of yours,” Eddie says after a comfortable silence filled only by the background noise of the sports commentators, “what was it really like?”
“Super freaky,” Buck huffs a laugh. “I told you already.”
“No,” Eddie drawls the word with playful annoyance. “You told us the saccharine version because Christopher was there. Or because you didn’t want someone else to know the details. I don’t know,” he shrugs. “All I know is you aren’t telling the whole story.”
“I am,” Buck tries, but can hear the uncertainty in his own voice.
Eddie finally peels his eyes off the tv screen to pin him with a knowing look.
“Buck, I know you. You were holding back. Which… fine, you don't owe the entire world details about whatever was going on in your brain during a coma. I get it. But, c’mon, it’s me. Spill.”
Buck bites the inside of his cheek. There are details he really doesn't want to reach the others. He doesn’t want to upset anyone with the fucked up things his subconscious came up with. But… yeah, this is Eddie. Somehow, it feels wrong not to tell him.
“Bobby was dead.”
Even now, in the real world, having seen him just a few hours ago for lunch, the words get stuck in his throat. Buck hates the way his voice shakes with the ghost of heartbreak, still remembers the sensation of the world crashing down around him when Chimney (fake Chimney) told him. He tightens the grip of his beer, letting the sting of his wounded hands ground him in this reality.
Eddie arches his eyebrows. “What happened?”
“He… fell off the wagon. No one noticed, until it was too late.”
“Because you weren’t there?” Eddie’s expression turns critical. “Buck, you do know Bobby’s sobriety isn’t your responsibility, right?”
“I know. I know. The world doesn’t revolve around me,” he rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer to wash down the bitterness. “But you… you didn’t know Cap before. Before you joined, for a while, he was… different. Too reserved. Like- like he thought if he didn’t get to know us, we’d be better off or something.”
He can see the confusion in Eddie’s eyes while the information sets in. He can’t blame him. This Cap, this Bobby, is so different it’s almost impossible to reconcile him with the one he first met.
“Anyway,” he tries to lighten the air, “I guess I was annoying enough to break him out of his shell a little, or make him laugh. Or maybe I’m just giving myself too much credit.”
Eddie lets out a noncommittal hum. “Guess I can see that.”
It feels good to have said it, to let it out, to have someone else know. He trusts Eddie’s discretion and knows that, if Bobby’s death comes to haunt him in his nightmares, he’ll at least have someone to tell. He’s ready to return his attention back to the game when Eddie pops a sudden question:
“And me? What was I like?”
“I told you.”
“Angry, yeah,” Eddie frowns. “So that’s it? Without you I’m just… angry guy?”
Buck laughs, shaking his head, and is about to change de subject when he notices that Eddie looks bothered by the statement. As if whatever Buck’s subconscious said about him was a big offense.
“It wasn’t about me,” he offers.
Eddie pins him with another look meant to strip him bare of his secrets. Buck looks down at his hands, unable to meet his eyes:
“You- you lost Chris. To your parents. Big messy legal battle. Hen- Hen said they declared you unfit to be a single dad and a firefighter.”
Eddie takes a big gulp of beer with his eyes on the screen.
“Oh, yeah… that’d piss me off.”
To Buck’s relief, he sounds lighthearted about it. He guesses it’s easier when it’s just a made up crazy reality in someone else’s dying brain, when it didn’t feel so real and definitive as it did to him.
“Guess no one else there introduced you to Carla.”
“And you weren’t there,” Eddie points, “to fight for him.”
“No, I wasn’t…”
Eddie nods, still staring at some point in the distance, clearly not watching the game. Buck waits him out, let’s the idea settle, because he knows his silences enough to guess this one prefaces a statement.
“And you didn’t meet me there?” He finally asks and, again, he seems offended with Buck’s subconscious.
Buck feels the need to defend himself:
“To be fair, you would’ve just called me crazy and called the cops on me or something. I mean, Chim and Hen were ready to roll with it, but you don’t even believe in jinxes. What do you think you would’ve said if a guy you’ve never met before showed up claiming to be your best friend from another life?”
Eddie laughs, really laughs, and Buck finds himself smiling too. On retrospect, he kinda wishes he had searched him out, just to have another ridiculous scenario to tell him about now.
“No, that’s- that’s true,” Eddie shakes his head, still smiling. “Probably would’ve dragged you to the nearest psych ward. Still…” he trails off.
“Still what?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I feel bad for that Eddie. Sounds like he could’ve used a Buck in his life.”
Buck is past feeling guilty for leaving those subconscious versions of his family behind (except for Chris, he’s never getting over that one), but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been running through scenarios in his head, wondering what could’ve happened if he’d stayed. (Aside from, obviously, being dead and all that).
“Yeah, I guess so,” he sighs sipping his beer. “Still, I don’t know how much I could’ve helped. I mean, of course, I would’ve tried to help you- him get Chris back. But I’m not sure how that’d work without the whole legal guardian thing, you know? I mean, m- maybe I could’ve found Ca-“
The cushion hits him square in the face and nearly makes him spill his beer.
“Hey! What’s that about?! I’m convalescent here!”
“That’s not what I meant."
“No?”
“No!” Eddie rolls his eyes, exasperated for some reason Buck doesn’t understand. “I mean… yeah, if I was in that position, of course, I’d want help getting my son back. But that’s not it…”
Buck scratches the back of his head, squinting at Eddie like it’ll somehow help him read between the lines of whatever he’s trying to say.
“Then what is it?”
“I just-“ Eddie stumbles with his words and sighs. “I just meant... it sounds like he could use a friend.”
What good would that do?
Buck doesn’t say it, but his face must betray the thought by the way Eddie’s mouth twists with annoyance.
“Buck, all your help with Chris, introducing us to Carla, you being part of his life, helping me raise him… of course, it means a lot. I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.”
“But?” He prompts.
“But,” Eddie says slowly, looking him in the eye, “that’s not all that matters. I mean, you’re my best friend, man. Even without all that, I’d want to be friends with you, hang out, laugh, do shit all on a Sunday night. That matters too.”
Just being Buck.
“Oh.”
Eddie looks away, takes two big gulps of beer, like they can wash down the emotional weight of what he’s trying to explain.
“I’m just saying,” he says, eyes still on the game they are both ignoring. “If I was going through that, it sounds like hell… I’d want a friend like you by my side. You’re a very good friend.”
Buck ducks his head to hide the heat of blood rushing through his entire face. “Uh, well, thanks… I- uh, I appreciate it. You’re a great friend too.”
He tries to picture Eddie without him. Tries to picture himself without Eddie. Both options seem impossible.
“Well, good thing we met," he decides with a grin, raising his beer lightly against Eddie's.
"Good thing you didn't die," Eddie says, and though he tries to hide it behind a sip of his beer and a distant look at the tv, Buck can feel the heaviness hidden behind that sentence. It only hits him at that moment... Eddie was maybe a little too close to finding out exactly what his life without Buck would be like. "I mean," he goes on with a shrug, "sucks for that other Eddie, but I'm not much of the sharing type. So I'm glad you came back."
"Of course," Buck smiles, trying to match the false lightness in his tone. "You're stuck with me."
"Good," Eddie nods a single time like the matter's settled. "But I'd rather not be stuck with this couch."
"It's so uncomfortable!" Buck chuckles, glad that someone finally brought it up.
"So uncomfortable!" Eddie agrees, finally meeting his eyes.
"My mom's always had the worst taste in furniture."
"Oh, so it runs in the family."
"Hey!" Buck pretends to be offended and throws the cushion back at his smug grinning face.
He misses by quite a bit (something to worry about later). Instead, the cushion knocks the beer bottle clean out of Eddie's hand and spills the dark liquid all over the couch's white fabric.
Buck and Eddie look at the growing stain. They stare at each other, silent, frozen with the sudden panic of two little kids about to be reprimanded by a grown-up. Except, there are no parents here...
...just two grown men who burst out laughing at the exact same time, bent over in a fit of giggles so loud that it drowns out the game's final touchdown. Not that anybody was watching, anyway.
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useramor · 1 year
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it's you, it's you, it's all for you (everything i do) word count: 1.1k
eddie asks about buck's coma dream, 6x11 coda (also the title is from video games by lana del rey because they're playing a video game in this sdlfgjh okay enjoy)
“So,” Eddie says after they’ve both died in the video game. Christopher got it recently and already completed the entire game — a magical quest one that ends with them fighting off an evil wizard that turns into a dragon. Very Maleficent, if you ask Buck. 
“So?” Buck echoes, looking over at him. They’re sitting on the floor, backs resting against the couch. Eddie looked at him curiously when he plopped onto the ground, but a couch feels like a little bit of a sore subject at the moment.
Especially when his mom recently bought the largest, ugliest, most uncomfortable sofa Buck’s ever sat on. It’s an eyesore. And it is, unfortunately, taking up half his loft.
It feels kind of pointed. Like the universe is trying really hard to tell him something. He figures he better figure it out soon, because he doesn’t feel like getting struck by lightning or something.
Again.
Point is, Buck wants a comfortable couch. It doesn’t have to be huge, or have reclining seats, or anything, but it needs to feel right. He needs to sit on it and feel like he’s home. Like he can relax and shed some of the pressures of the day.
It might be a lot to put on a couch, but Buck’s willing to wait. 
So, basically, they’re on the floor. 
“What was I like? In your dream? I mean, I was in it, right?”
“Kind of?” Buck tilts his head, scrunching his nose as he looks at it. “I don’t think you’re gonna like what my subconscious came up with.”
Eddie shrugs, leaning against the couch, head tilted slightly. He’s very pretty, Buck’s been noticing. Not that there has ever been a moment where he thought Eddie was unattractive, but it’s been a kind of new discovery to realize the small smile on his face as he waits for Buck to move on makes his heart swoop.
It’s not a new feeling, either, just one he wasn’t ready to look at, yet. He’s still not quite there, if he’s being honest with himself.
It’s just—
Eddie’s couch fits him, Eddie, and Chris pretty comfortably. Buck’s spent an awful lot of nights (and a lot of awful nights) sleeping on this couch. And it’s not like Buck’s ready to put this couch in his loft or move into Eddie’s house so he can sit on this couch all the time, but. Maybe soon he’ll be okay with…sitting on it, or something.
And he thinks Eddie might grab some beers from the fridge and sit beside him.
“I still wanna know,” Eddie says, low and soft, quiet under the repetitive tune of the video game still playing on the TV.
“Okay,” Buck says. “Well, I didn’t see you.”
“You saw everyone else but you didn’t see me? I thought we were best friends,” he teases.
“We are. You were alive in it. Chim mentioned you.”
“Your subconscious puts Chimney over me?”
I think my subconscious knew that if I saw you and you weren’t the Eddie sitting in front of me, I wouldn’t know how to cope, he thinks, but keeps the words to himself. Rolls his eyes fondly and mumbles a “shut up,” instead.
“No, seriously. Here I’ve been considering you my friend, bringing my son to see you in the hospital — sneaking him into the ICU, by the way, because he wouldn’t leave the hospital without seeing you—”
“Really?” Buck asks, and he hates the awe in his voice. He hates the way, even after all this time, he doesn’t know how to trust that people want him around. Not fully, anyway. 
Eddie catches onto it. Of course he does. 
“Buck, of course. Chris needed you to come back. We all did.”
Buck hears the silent I needed you to come back. He doesn’t point it out. 
He swallows around a tightness in his throat.
“Oh,” he whispers. Eddie snorts, looking at him fondly. 
“Yeah. Oh.”
“You didn’t have Chris. In my dream,” Buck blurts.
“Your parents fought for custody and won. You—I didn’t know you. In the dream. Or, you didn’t know me, but, hell, it’s my brain, right? So I knew. I knew you fought like hell to keep him, but your hours in the end—Eddie, I hope you know I don’t think I, like, am the reason you have Chris. You’re the best dad I know, okay? I know you would do anything in the world for him, I was just living in my worst case scenario, and—”
“I didn’t have you,” he says simply. “I would do anything for my son, obviously, but without the right help, without Carla, I can only imagine the kind of hell my parents would’ve given me.”
Eddie’s looking at him so gently that Buck would trip over the feelings he’s spilling onto the floor if he weren’t sitting down. 
“You’re not wrong to assume our lives would kind of suck without you, Buck.”
“My life sucked without you. You were the first person I thought of, when I woke up in that dream. You and Christopher,” he admits softly, his words washing over them like a blanket. Eddie scoots closer. Buck can’t tell if the action is intentional or not, he just knows that from one second to the other there’s a new, unmistakable warmth along his side.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks, like he can’t believe Buck. Like he can’t believe he got lucky enough to have him sit here and admit that Eddie and Chris were the first tethers, his first pulls back home. 
“Yeah. Always. Fought to come home, y’know.” Buck hopes it comes off casually. Hopes it comes off like his heart isn’t lodged in his throat, like maybe the 118 is his home, but Eddie seems to get it, anyway.
Eddie knocks their shoulders together, and it’s a quiet promise. They both know, he’s pretty sure. They both know they’ve got something going, something good, something with a couch and a house and a family. A love Buck doesn’t have to die to experience.
But it’s not the right time. Close. Just hovering around the corner. Buck can be patient for once in his life; Eddie’s worth everything. 
He picks up his controller, silently asking if he wants to go again. 
Eddie nods, but his finger hovers over the play button. His brown eyes are warm and dark when they land on Buck’s, and it takes mental effort to remember he needs to keep breathing when Eddie smiles at him — soft and fond and flushed a peachy pink. 
“For the record,” he says, clearing his throat like the words don’t know how to come out. “I always fight to come home to you, too.”
Buck’s character dies three times in a row, the words home to you on an endless loop in his mind.
Yeah, he thinks. Knows, really. Soon. 
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chaosandwolves · 1 year
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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.
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gayedmundodiaz · 1 year
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if i loved you less
6x11 coda/missing scene// 1066 words // G
Eddie won’t look at Buck
“You know, you barely look at him.”
Eddie glances up from where he’s picking at a loose thread on the hem of his jacket. It’s almost just him and Hen in the waiting room now, Carla took Christopher home a half hour ago and Bobby, Athena, and May had come by with food for everyone. A few scattered members of the 118, and even a few other houses, are there as well, milling about and conversing. Everyone just waiting to hear some sort of news and hoping it’s good when they do.
“What?” Eddie realizes he’d been staring at Hen, who is watching him expectantly. She has an eyebrow raised, her sandwich poised in front of her as if she’s waiting to take a bite.
“I said,” she lowers the sandwich now, “you barely even look at him.”
Icy coldness washes over him, a sick feeling of nausea bubbling in his throat and roiling through his gut. He can feel the clamminess of his face and neck by the way the air from the vents chills his skin. Just the thought of Buck in that damn bed is enough to make him ill.
“I can’t.” His voice cracks and he immediately averts his eyes back to the hem of his jacket where he’s pulled a thread so loose, it’s traveled at least 4 inches up the seam. “I don’t know how I could.”
Despite the others in the waiting room, the two of them are secluded in a small alcove to the side, adorned with a couple chairs and a side table with a fake plant and out-of-date magazines.
“How you could what?” Her voice is gentle, and he knows she’s just as affected as him. Knows that Buck has been like a little brother to her. But he can’t help but feel like it’s still different, somehow.
“I don’t know how I could go in that room and see him lying there, nearly dead, and not fall apart.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then another. And then Eddie wonders if she’s even going to reply before she exhales slowly.
“When Karen was dying in the back of that ambulance, a part of me died too.” She’s leaning forward now, her arms on her knees and hands clasped together. “And you know, for a bit, I was afraid to touch her. There was no logical reason for it, but I had felt her dying underneath my fingers and the idea of touching her again after that felt wrong.”
The skin on Eddie’s hands tingles at the memory of doing compressions on Buck as they wheeled him in. He remembers the exact moment he felt the spastic thumping under his palms as his heartbeat came back, and the absolute relief he felt. The immediate urge to burst out crying but having to hold it in because Buck still needed him.
“That’s different.”
“It’s not,” she replies before Eddie even finishes his statement, like she was anticipating his response. “I know it’s not, and you know it’s not. Whether or not you’re ready to admit that is up to you, but you are gonna have to look at him sooner or later.”
There may not be many more chances.
His thought goes unspoken, but it hangs there in the air anyway.
“When Shannon was dying, Chim said ‘if we put that tube in, there’s a good chance it never comes back out’,” Eddie says it quietly, almost as if he’s repeating it to himself out loud instead of in his head this time, “and now Buck-” He cuts himself off abruptly, a swell of emotion rising in his throat that he knows will be a sob if he lets it.
He’s already cried so much over Buck, and he’s not even dead.
“Eddie,” Hen rises now and sits beside him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder, “I can’t promise that Buck will wake up and everything will be okay, but I know that man loves you and Christopher and the rest of his family so damn much that anything in the way is gonna have a hell of a time stopping him.”
Eddie nods, because he knows that. He does. He just doesn’t know how to stomach the idea that the things standing in his way could be stronger than him.
He straightens up, inadvertently knocking Hen’s arm off his shoulder, and inhales slowly before letting out a long, even breath.
“I think I uh,” he starts, rising to his feet on shaky legs, “I think I’m gonna go see Buck.”
So he makes his way down the hallway, finding Buck’s room and pushing the door open with a hand that’s only trembling a little bit, which he’ll count as a win.
“Hey Cap, Athena,” he nods to the two others in the room who are seated right up at Buck’s bedside. “Do you mind if I have a few minutes alone with him?”
Bobby’s face softens immediately and he nods, grabbing the coffee cup he’d been drinking out of from the ground beside his chair and standing up. He doesn’t say anything, but he gives Eddie a strong pat on the shoulder as they walk out.
“Hey Buck,” Eddie whispers, barely audible over the sound of him sitting down into the now-vacated seat. “We uh… I-I miss you.”
He places a gentle hand over Buck’s arm, above his bandages, and strokes his thumb across the skin. Finally, after a few long moments, he raises his head to look Buck squarely in the face. The breathing tube coming out of his mouth loops and winds toward the ventilator, and the ECMO tubing runs from the ports in his chest, to the machine, and back again. On top of that are about a million different chest leads monitoring his heart.
Eddie wants to cry at the sight of it all. So he does. He cries for the man in front of him who means more to him than almost anyone else in the world. He cries for his son, who has faced so much loss and doesn’t deserve to face anymore. He cries for the team, who has gone through trauma after trauma and always come out the other side only to be beat down one more time. He cries for himself, because his heart is breaking and it always will be if Evan Buckley doesn’t wake up.
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eddiediazes · 1 year
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32 from handholding, 33 from hugs, 48 from kisses, or 44 from touching if it inspires (mwah mwah mwah mwah)
truly this prompt haunted me until i wrote my 6x11 coda with it plus i was just so grateful to get one from you my beloved bestie so :') here you go!!!!! i managed to get like three out of four of these in here
born with a weak heart
[7.4k words] [rated: teen and up] [post-6x11 coda] [featuring deranged touch-starved buck, so much hand-holding, and more!]
It takes Buck longer than it should to notice. Which - okay, sure, he’s oblivious about certain things even on the best of days, and he got struck by lightning less than a month ago, so maybe he should give himself a break. But still, it feels like something he should have noticed, so he ends up feeling pretty stupid for not noticing.
Since Buck woke up in the hospital, Eddie’s stopped touching him.
It sounds melodramatic when he puts it like that. Honestly, though, Buck is feeling pretty fucking melodramatic about it. If he really processes it, sits with it and admits it to himself, it makes him want to go lay down in the rain somewhere and maybe never get up again. And that, that is just ridiculous, and Buck knows it. He’s an adult, and he should be past that, right? He’s still seeing Eddie at the hospital and at home, and soon he’ll be back to seeing Eddie at work, too. They’re spending time together, Eddie laughs at his stupid struck by lightning jokes, nothing really feels that different in their day to day, so Buck shouldn’t feel so insane about it.
[read on ao3]
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xanthippe74 · 3 months
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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!
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