#error 911

[apassingbird]

"Hey, baby," Tommy's voice carries through the apartment, "have you seen my shirt?"

Buck's standing in Tommy's bedroom, pulling said shirt over his head and ready to reply that yes, he has in fact seen his shirt and no, Tommy can't have it because Buck's already wearing it, when he pauses. Baby. That's- that's new.

It's just a word. It shouldn't make Buck's heart speed up or fill his belly with far too many butterflies for it to count as healthy.

Baby.

He closes his eyes and lets the word, that tiny little four letter word, echoe in his head. The memory of Tommy's voice repeating it over and over again, until it eventually ends up in Buck's own mouth before falling out as nothing more than a soft whisper.

"Are you okay?"

Buck blinks his eyes open, mouth still open around the word, and when he is met with a half-naked Tommy who is looking at him with a bemused expression, he all but melts.

"You, uh, you called me baby." Buck offers, as if that's an answer to Tommy's question. Maybe it is. "You've never- you haven't called me that before."

Tommy's face softens at that, his eyes dropping down to Buck's chest before finding his eyes again, eyes sparkling. He steps closer, until he can reach out and grip Buck's waist, the warmth of his hands noticeable even through two layers of fabric. Buck's own hands find their way to Tommy's arms, slowly sliding up until they rest at the soft curve of his neck, thumbs barely brushing the underside of his jaw.

"Well, you are my baby," Tommy says then, matter of factly, gently pulling Buck closer. "Aren't you?"

"Y-yeah?" Buck swallows, eyes dropping down to Tommy's lips for a moment. "I- yeah, I-I am?"

"You are."

Tommy just... looks at him, eyes so incredibly fond that Buck can barely breathe with it, before leaning in to press a soft kiss onto Buck's lips. He doesn't protest too much or at all, actually, when Buck immediately deepens it. Eventually, though, Tommy pulls away, panting just enough for Buck to feel a bit proud in a I did that to him kind of way.

"I'm really your baby, huh."

"Very much so," Tommy hums, one hand leaving Buck's waist to over his belly, up his chest, and then down again. Buck wonders, for a moment, if they're going to be late for work, which- he wouldn't be opposed to that. But Tommy simply pinches the loose fabric of the sweater, pulls at it a little, and says, "you're a thief, too."

Buck opens his mouth to protest, but Tommy just gives him a look then, as if to say try me. A smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth, though, and his free hand gives Buck's waist a small squeeze.

"I mean," Buck starts, heart pounding in his chest. "What's yours is mine, right, babe?"

"Babe, huh?"

"Darling?" Buck tries, knows he probably looks like a fool from how big he's grinning. "Sugarbuns? Pookie? Hot stuff?"

Tommy kisses him then, and Buck lets himself get lost in it again. When one of his hands slips down from Tommy's neck, Tommy's quick to reach up and take hold of it, pressing it against his own chest. He presses another kiss onto Buck's lips, hot and searing, as if he's pouring his entire being into it. When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, his forehead resting against Buck's. They stand like that for a moment, breathing each other in.

"You're still a thief, though," Tommy says eventually, voice low and rough, as he taps his fingertip against the back of Buck's hand where it rests just above his heart, and Buck wonders if Tommy's still talking about the shirt when he whispers, "you can keep it."

[thebuckandeddiething]

Eddie needs to stare into Buck's eyes and gently brush back that loose curl. like I feel like that would help them. and me.

[firewasabeast]

I made a little bucktommy fic based off of this post from yesterday (read here or on ao3)

Husbands

There had been a big fire, taking out the top eight floors of a high rise. There were multiple stations involved, including the 118 and Harbor, ground and air support, to get the fire under control and everyone out safely.

It took more than a few hours, but eventually the fire was out and everyone was getting their gear in order to head back to their respective stations.

As Buck organized the tools in the truck, a small group of friends, two guys and two girls, in their mid-twenties Buck assumed, gathered around him.

It had started with little comments; a guy asked what the axe was used for, a girl batted her eyelashes as she touched his turnouts because she “always wondered what the material felt like”, another girl asked how much water could be stored in the truck.

Buck liked talking. He liked answering questions and telling people what he did. He leaned against the firetruck as they chatted, until about five minutes in one of the guys sighed and got to the point. “We're honestly just wondering if one of us could get your number? Or all of us. Doesn't really matter.”

Buck paused. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy getting hit on. He enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. It was always nice to know when someone found you attractive.

Getting hit on was fun. Getting people's numbers was fun. But, there was something else that was even funner now. He'd been able to do it for exactly three months, to the day. Not that he wasn't flashing his ring beforehand, but something about being married sounded even better than being engaged.

“Sorry, guys,” Buck said, smiling as he lifted his left hand into view, “Im flattered, but I'm married.”

As some disappointed, and some still interested, looks broke out over the group, a familiar voice sounded behind Buck. “Damn, I was just about to shoot my shot.”

A blush rose on Buck's face as Tommy passed by. He was working ground ops today, and Buck knew he was around, but this was the first he'd seen of him. “Yeah, you wish, Kinard,” he called back, causing Tommy to turn back around to him.

He shrugged, smirking. “A guy can dream, can't he?” he asked with a wink, continuing backwards toward his truck.

It was only once Tommy was out of view that Buck realized the group was still there, staring between Buck and the direction Tommy went with confusion on their faces.

“Oh, uh, that- that's my husband.”

His smile grew as he watched the realization hit the group. They didn't stand a chance.

“Forget it,” one girl mumbled as they all started to disperse.

“They're both so hot, what the hell?” one guy whispered, albeit loudly, to his friend.

“And unbelievably corny,” the friend said back, not even trying to be quiet. “Makes me wanna gag.”

Buck rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from where he was leaning on the firetruck. He began walking in the direction Tommy had gone, needing to see him before his station left.

“Get any numbers, hot stuff?” Tommy's voice made Buck jump. He was situated between two trucks and, from the looks of it, had just finished pouring a bottle of water over his head to clean himself off.

Buck's shoulders relaxed as he walked over to Tommy. “No, I did not,” he said cheekily. “You wanna know why?”

“Hmm?”

“Because my husband interrupted. He didn't say it, but I got the feeling he wants to keep me to himself.”

“The nerve of that guy.” Tommy moved closer to Buck, his hands coming up to grip onto the sides of Buck's turnouts. “Can't say I blame him though.” He spoke quietly, staring between Buck's eyes and lips, “He does have a really hot husband.”

Buck put his hand at the nape of Tommy's neck, closing the space between them as he pulled him in for a kiss. He had no concern for the fact he was getting soot right back on Tommy's clean face. Payback.

“Can you bring your turnouts home?” Buck asked, leaning back just enough to speak.

Tommy laughed, his face scrunching up into that deep smile that made Buck melt. “This really does something for you, doesn't it?”

“Every damn time.”

Another kiss, this one slower and softer. A promise of what's to come when they're both off shift in a few hours. “I'll figure out a way.”

[nostalgic-shamefest]

Eddie Diaz partied so hard he grew a beard

[buckevantommy]

gimme a crack fic where they accidentally(?) kill gerrard and have to cover it up. like. everyone is sick of the guy obvs but they've tried removing him as captain with no luck so they're intent on making his life hell while he's around - laxatives in his coffee, only having vegan food in the kitchen, etc. type of stuff. but then they find gerrard dead and everyone is like: ok which one of you finally killed the guy?? and we get flashbacks of everyone doing something that indavertantly led to gerrard's death; i don't know what specifically but some of it is probably illegal or at least against firehouse policy - but it was for personal reasons or for a call, nothing to do with gerrard - and other stuff was just completely unwitting happenstance. and everyone wonders if what they did was the thing that killed him, and they're piecing it all together and realising: oh shit did we all kill him?? a comedy of errors. and it looks bad. i mean, objectively it could be seen as an accident but if someone were to look close enough it looks like a carefully planned murder made to look like an accident and they're all complicit. and i want the folks outside the firehouse to be a mix of clueless then clued-in then helping run interference like: gimme maddie diverting calls, karen bringing her expertise and self to the table somehow, tommy knows his engines, and ofc there's athena who has no qualms covering shit up to protect her firefam. it's a team effort all around and there are numerous close calls - maybe they even moved his body from the firehouse to a construction site or something, everyone bickering as they try to figure out the best way to do it, and at one point they put him down and he just- rolls away down a hill or something and they have to scurry after his body. gimme comedy, i want the crack but treated semi serioiusly. and then when all is said and done and the death is ruled an accident and bobby gets reinstated as captain, right at the end something surfaces that was forgotten about like maybe ravi (who was absent for the whole thing) finds a severed finger under the engine in the firehouse and is like: umm, guys? and it's gerrard's finger of course and it's just deer-in-headlights looks all round and someone chimes in with: that's a funny story, actually..

and bonus: we get ravi after storytime be like: huh. yknow i would've thought the rat poison (or whathaveyou) i put in his coffee woulda done the trick. and everyone has this realisation of: OH it was RAVI. anyway it's a happy ending and ravi drops the finger in the trash as they all head out when the alarm sounds.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Not to put on a little clown performance or anything, even though you all know I loooooove to put on a clown performance, but uh. Um. 99% sure Eddie previously stated that Shannon was the first girl/woman he dated. So I'd love to know what that fun little hesitance before saying she wasn't my first girlfriend was, Eddie. Would love to know if your first "girlfriend" was actually a boyfriend. WOULD SURE LOVE TO KNOW IF--

[bugboybuck]

even all the change is somehow all the same.

Instantly, Buck feels his cheeks heat up — it’s ridiculous, the way getting asked about his crush makes him feel like he’s right back in high school. "Uh, yeah, well he was just literally on shift for the last twenty-four hours in an active wildfire, he’s exhausted.  I mean, he was still passed out when I left, so—" Buck doesn’t realise he’s said too much until Hen and Chimney exchange a look — knowing on Hen’s part, nearly gleeful on Chimney’s — and Eddie whistles. “He stayed the night? Damn, Buck, you have been moving fast.”

or; the day after the wedding, the 118 reconvene in Chimney's hospital room to share cake, decompress, and maybe interrogate Buck on a few new life developments. Typical family stuff.

read on ao3!

[dannyuta]

9-1-1 | 2x18: This Life We Choose

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

It’s been years and I’ve never seen anyone mention it before, so I am: when Eddie gets shot by the sniper, Buck had just taken off his mask and was still holding it, but the best I can tell, he drops it as soon as Eddie’s blood splatters on him. Yes, obviously, he freezes in shock, we know that already, but he also seems to drop the mask. His entire body probably went numb, it wasn’t just him freezing, it was his brain not sending anymore signals to the rest of his body before he sees Eddie from underneath the fire truck. Eddie looks confused when he flinches at the bullet, like he doesn’t understand what happened yet, but Buck just goes weak because he can’t process it.

[apassingbird]

Buck loves a lot of things with Tommy; his kindness, his deadpan sense of humor, the way he throws himself into his work with equal parts passion and almost reckless abandon. The way he listens to Buck's rants with genuine interest, the way he counters with interesting facts of his own. The way he says Buck's name, almost like it's something precious, something holy. But right now, in this very moment, the one thing he loves the most with Tommy, is the fact that he has a bathtub.

Buck lets out a groan as he sinks into the warm water, his muscles tense and aching from hours of hard work. A hot shower had always been the go-to after a long shift, but this right here, this was something Buck could definitely get used to. He closes his eyes and lets himself relax into it completely, his whole body breathing a sigh of relief and his mind, for once, not racing a mile a minute.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're only with me for my bathtub."

Buck opens his eyes again and lets his head loll to the side as he squints at Tommy, where he's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and an amused look on his face.

"I plead the fifth," Buck says with a wink and a smirk, then holds out his hand towards Tommy, asks quietly, "join me?"

Tommy tilts his head in consideration, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards in a soft smile, says, "I'm not sure we'll both fit."

He moves, nonetheless, pushes himself off the doorframe and starts to undress, his movements far from rushed as he removes one layer of clothing at a time. Buck watches him, his eyes following the journey one of his own shirts makes as it's pulled up and over Tommy's head, and then dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. His eyes moves back to Tommy's chest, the dusting of soft hair that covers it, tantalizing in the way it beckons his gaze to follow its trail down, down, down, to where it disappears beneath well-worn denim. Then, Tommy's hands block his view, as deft fingers works first the button and then zipper, before slowly peeling off the material.

Buck swallows, feels that familiar heat pooling low in his belly, just from the sight before him. And god, what a sight it is; Tommy, all long lines of naked skin, a slight flush on his cheeks, as he moves closer until he's standing right beside the bathub. Buck stretches his fingers, the tips of them touching the bare skin just above Tommy's knee. This, he knows, he'll never get used to.

There are a lot of things Buck loves about Tommy. His big heart, yes, but also the way his body feels pressed against Buck's own. The way his muscles shift beneath his skin when he presses Buck up against a wall or into the mattress, the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders and back. The way he, most nights, envelopes Buck wholly, covering him from where his lips press against the nape of his neck all the way down to where he lets Buck tuck his cold toes between his feet. He loves how it makes him feel, how Tommy makes him feel - tethered, secure, safe.

Like now, as he leans back into Tommy's open arms; his back pressed against his chest, his hips and legs bracketed by Tommy's strong thighs and Tommy's equally strong arms holding him securely in place. Buck can't help but let out a sound, then, something caught between a sigh and a moan. Beneath him, he can feel Tommy's heartbeat, a slow and steady thing.

Distantly, Buck thinks he could get used to this, too. Having someone to come home to, that is. He spends most nights at Tommy's, but they haven't really had that particular conversation yet. They probably should, though, because as far as Buck's concerned, there's nowhere else he'd rather be. No one else he'd rather come home to, bathtub or not.

[firewasabeast]

i know you didn't ask for prompts but if you get a chance could you write something where tommy is in trouble (maybe during the bees chaos) and kinda has to rescue himself? like his helicopter crashes or something idk! sorry if this is a bother!

well this became a whole thing, so thanks for that! Also, you can send prompts anytime. I can't promise when I'll get to them, but I always try.

ao3 link

He was used to waking up to the sound of birds. He had a tree right by his window and, while none of them ever made a nest, there were plenty of birds that liked to stop by for a visit.

He'd worried about it when Evan first started staying over. Some people hated the sound of the chirps first thing in the morning, often starting before the sun was up.

But the first time Tommy woke up with Evan in his house, expecting him to be beside him in bed, he was surprised to find him squatted down and staring out the window.

“Morning.” Tommy's voice was husky of the morning. He blinked a few times to adjust to the sunlight shining in from the open window.

Evan turned to him with a smile. “You have blue birds. I think I saw a cardinal too, earlier. It was quick though. A finch got a worm in the dirt by the roots.” He looked back, nearly pressing his forehead to the glass, “This is so cool.”

Tommy was pretty sure he felt his heart swell twice it's size that day. He's also pretty sure that was the moment he fell in love. He didn't say it then, waited a couple more months for that. They'd only really been going out for a few weeks at that point, but he still felt it.

And it was a damn good feeling.

Everyday with Evan was a good feeling. He loved going out with him, or staying home. Loved to hear him go on rants about whatever research he'd been doing lately. He loved coming home to Evan cooking in his kitchen, or napping on his couch. He loved the texts they'd send each other during shifts. Tommy would often get ragged on about how often his phone would ding. “Are y'all sexting again?” his co-worker would ask with a snort. Tommy never told them that, most of the time, Evan was actually sending him the most G-rated photos of all time, and it was absolutely adorable. Like the one where he was holding a baby duck that they'd saved. Or the one where he was frying pork chops and had to take a selfie with them because they turned out so good. Or the one where Christopher dropped by the station for a visit and Evan snapped a picture with him while Chris was mid eye-roll. Those were his favorites.

He loved the phone calls with Evan too. It didn't matter if they'd been with each other all night, and left for work at the same time, and would be seeing one another right after their shift was over. When it was a quiet day at work, they were always reaching into their pockets to call one another. Sometimes at the same time.

Tommy loved the parts of Evan that Evan didn't love about himself. He loved that Evan was clingy, love that he talked a lot, loved that when he got something on his mind he had to do it and it had to be done right.

Tommy loved how aggressively he loved his family and friends.

He loved the grumpy side of Evan, and loved that Evan seemed to love Tommy's grumpy side too.

He also loved the look on Evan's face when he was about to come. Loved how their bodies fit together so perfectly, like they were made for each other.

Loved how easily he blushed. Loved falling asleep next to him, their bodies tangled together in one way or another. He loved waking up beside Evan. Getting to see his hair all tousled and the little drips of drool that would escape down the side of his mouth.

“That's a lot of things to love about a person,” Evan whispered into the darkness of the room. “Although I will forever deny the fact that I drool, thank you very much.”

Which, maybe the room wasn't actually dark, because Tommy still had his eyes closed.

He scrunched his face up, confused. “Was I talking out loud?” he asked.

“Mhm.” He could feel Evan's breath on his face. “Do you really love all that about me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you should open your eyes.”

That was an odd request. It all felt odd, actually. Because when he and Evan woke up together, Evan always had a hand on him somewhere. His chest, his arm, his back, running up and down his side. Somewhere. But this time Tommy felt nothing.

Well, not nothing, exactly. He felt damp, actually. He felt damp and sticky and hot. Hotter than usual, but cold at the same time?

“What?” He mumbled out, confused.

“I said you should open your eyes.”

“Wh- Why?”

“Tommy!” Evan's voice was louder now, like he had a megaphone to Tommy's ear. “Open your eyes!”

Tommy's head jerked up in surprise, wincing from the sound. “Mmm,” he groaned. His body hurt all over. He didn't remember feeling sick before he went to bed.

But the more he thought about it, he didn't really remember going to bed.

He blinked his eyes open slowly. They felt so dry and scratchy, almost like they had sand in them. When they finally focused he expected to see his clock to his left, the time shining back at him. Expected to have Evan beside him, or cooking some elaborate breakfast in the kitchen.

Expected to see sunlight shining from between his curtains.

Instead all he saw was rocks, mud, and leaves.

Did they go camping? He definitely didn't remember that. And why the hell wouldn't they at least have a tent?

“Ev- Evan?” God, talking hurt. Felt like his throat was on fire.

He was lying on his stomach, but there was no pillow under his head. There was something there though. Something shielding his head from the mud and rocks and twigs below it.

He reached up with the hand closest to his head, the one that didn't feel like it had its own pulse, and felt his head.

A helmet.

That's when it came rushing back to him.

Emergency.

All hands on deck.

Transport aircraft to nearby facility.

Bees?

Bees.

He'd been flying a helicopter to a nearby rendezvous point. Every fire department in the district would be there.

All to fight the bees.

Sounded downright insane to him at the time. I mean, they were bees. Weren't we supposed to be saving those?

It wasn't until his bird made direct contact with the swarm that he realized the severity of the problem.

Tommy carefully unbuckled his helmet, letting it drop off his head.

He tried to focus on all the things that hurt, although it probably would have been easier to take count of the places on his body that didn't hurt.

There was a cold, sticky substance on the back of his neck. Blood, he was sure. His right arm had to be broken. He couldn't seem to move it, but the thump thump thump feeling that came from it was impossible not to notice.

His back was jammed, but nothing felt broken there. He could wiggle his toes a little, but his left ankle was definitely sprained.

Something... something was poking his side.

It was hard to get in a good breath, hard to keep his eyes open, but he forced himself to roll over so he could check his side.

“God!” He exclaimed through panted breaths as he turned, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. He looked down at his side to see a branch, about as round as a nickel, maybe five or six inches long, sticking out. “Damn it,” he gasped out. His good hand shakily reached out to touch around the wound, where blood was seeping out in a slow but steady stream.

He didn't try to pull it out. He knew better than that. He had no idea how deep the branch was pierced inside him, and no clue what it might have punctured.

All he knew was that it hurt like hell.

And the whole situation was almost too much for his brain to take.

He had so many questions.

Most importantly, where the hell was the helicopter?

He must've fallen out of it before it crashed to the ground, wherever it crashed.

His energy was draining quickly. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and wait for sleep to take over. Wait for rescue, whenever it may come.

So, he let his eyes close. Let the pain begin to wash away. Let himself float until-

“I said open your damn eyes, Tommy!”

There was Evan's voice again, shouting at him so loudly.

Tommy's eyes jerked back open and the pain returned full force.

He couldn't stay here.

Couldn't let those damn, stupid ass bees win.

Couldn't imagine the embarrassment of people asking, “What happened? How'd he die?” and someone having to explain that it was bees! Sure, he survived war, but it was the bees that got him.

Hell no.

Plus, dying in general might not have meant much a few months ago.

But it meant a lot now.

Because now he had a boyfriend with abandonment issues, and he needed to get back to him.

So he pushed himself up to his knees, let a groan escape between his gritted teeth, and stood on his feet.

If he let out a yell or two, who needed to know?

And maybe this would be the point in therapy where his therapist would tell him you're worth surviving because you're a human being who deserves to live, not just because you're with someone. But screw that, because if Evan was the only thing that made him get out of this with his life, than that would have to be enough.

He was dizzy, it hurt to put pressure on his leg, there was more blood on his clothes than he cared to see, and he was pretty sure he'd also lost some hearing in his right ear.

He pressed his hand against the wound on his side the best he could without disturbing the branch. A whine escaped him and tears welled in his eyes. He'd been hurt before, been in pain before, but never like this. This was another level.

“Move,” he told himself, voice barely above a whisper. “Just move.”

So that's what he did. He began to walk, or limp, through the trees of wherever the hell he was in the hopes he was going in the right direction.

His body was cold, shivering even as sweat dripped down his face.

His teeth chattered and it felt like his insides were vibrating.

At one point he practically fell against a tree, barely kept upright by his legs that were getting weaker by the second.

He took a minute to breathe, nearly closed his eyes. But Evan's voice stopped him again.

So, he walked. He walked and he walked and then... and then he could smell something.

Not just something.

Fire.

And the world around him was fuzzier.

But it wasn't his eyes playing tricks. It was smoke.

The helicopter.

It had to be.

He picked up the pace. They might not have been able to find him, but maybe they had found-

“He's not here, Buckley.” God, Tommy hated that voice. “We'll put out a search for him but it's unlikely he survived this. Gotta face the facts, we lose people sometimes.”

“Whoa!” Another voice cut in. Sounded like Chimney. He liked that voice. “He's not worth it, Buck. We'll keep looking, okay? We'll keep looking.”

A few more steps and he could see them. Blurry, but there. He cleared his throat. “Look f- for who?”

At least thirty heads whipped in his direction.

“Oh my God, Tommy!” Now, that was a voice he loved.

He was surrounded in seconds, but Evan was first one there. The one to bring a hand to his back and cradle him as his body gave out. He was the one to help him to the ground while Chimney and Hen worked on his body, shouting things back and forth at one another.

A part of him wanted to close his eyes then, let them do their thing, but he didn't. He kept them open, and right on Evan, because that's what he'd want him to do.

*****

When Tommy woke up hours, or maybe days, later, it was in a hospital room. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd fallen asleep, or passed out, but it was clear that surgery had happened at some point. He'd blame the anesthesia, not all the trauma, for his loss of time.

Evan was in a chair beside him, holding onto his good hand, head resting by Tommy's thigh on the bed. Even in his sleep, he must've noticed something change with Tommy because he popped up quickly.

“Tommy,” he breathed out, and it looked like a year's worth of anxiety released in that breath. “H- Hi.”

Tommy managed a smile. “Hi.” His throat felt like sandpaper.

“Let me get you some ice.”

Tommy nearly pouted at the loss of Evan's touch, but he was back by Tommy's side in an instant, slipping a couple of ice chips into his mouth.

And oh my God did that ever feel good.

Evan's hand returned to Tommy's, and all felt right in the world again. He'd hear what all happened to him later. Didn't seem to care right now. He was alive, and he was with Evan, and he needed to tell him some things before he forgot them.

“You saved my life.”

Evan's eyebrows furrowed. “No, that was all you. We wouldn't have found you if you didn't find us first.”

Tommy pursed his lips together, shaking his head. “No,” he replied simply. “You.”

Evan smiled, held onto his hand a little tighter. Tommy knew what Evan was thinking. You're high as a kite right now and don't really know what you're talking about.

But that was the thing. His voice might be a little gravely, and his speech a bit slower than normal, but he never felt more clear-headed.

He needed Evan to know.

“Have I ever told you all the reasons I love you?”

Evan tilted his head, his smile growing even more. “No, I- I... I don't think you have.” There was that blush Tommy loved so much.

He took a deep breath. “Number one...”

[howtosingit]

went to a CPR training at the local fire station this morning and now I can't stop thinking about non-cop/civilian Carlos signing up for a First Aid/CPR certification training with the 126... and there's an odd number so he's paired up with facilitator TK for the 4-hour session and Carlos is slightly panicking about doing mouth-to-mouth with TK until TK tells him that they don't train civilians to do that anymore... but TK definitely catches Carlos after the training before he can drive off and offers to teach him mouth-to-mouth anyway, joking that Carlos can pay for dinner after 👀

[apassingbird]

Buck sighs into the barely there space between them, a small content thing, and burrows himself deeper into the soft fabric of Tommy's bed. It's one of those rare days where they're both off work at the same time. No on-calls or long shifts waiting around the corner. The next twenty-four hours are theirs for the taking, free to do whatever they want with. Buck, at least, plans to stay in this bed for as long as he possibly can. He's all tangled up with Tommy, from head to toe, to the point where he barely knows where he ends and Tommy begins. Everything around him feels soft and warm and safe.

"I missed you, y'know."

It's more a whisper than anything else, but Buck knows Tommy's heard him by the way his fingers pauses momentarily on his back, before continuing to draw lazy patterns up and down his spine.

"I missed you, too." Tommy replies, voice still laced with sleep, deep and raspy. "I missed you a lot, even though we did just see each other two days ago."

"Two long days." Buck points out, his pout turning into a smile when he hears Tommy laugh. "Two excruciatingly long days."

"Yeah, they were long, weren't they." Tommy agrees, flattening his hand against Buck's back and letting it rest there between his shoulder blades. His voice is softer, sadder almost, when he continues, "they always seem longer when you're not here."

Buck's heart aches at that because he knows. He knows, and he feels it, too. He doesn't say anything, though, chooses instead to press a gentle kiss onto Tommy's shoulder, hopes it conveys everything he can't quite put into words. Another sigh escapes him when he feels Tommy dip down to press a kiss of his own to the top of his head. They stay like that for a while, content in simply existing in the same room, breathing the same air. It's a luxury none of them take for granted.

"You know," Buck says eventually, an idea he's been toying with for a while now, making itself known again and spilling out of his mouth within seconds. "I-I could always move in. Here, I mean, with you."

"Evan."

"I could, though." Buck says again, rearranging himself so that he's resting on his elbow, looking down at Tommy. "I'm already here more than I'm at the loft, a-and most of my clothes are here, anyway."

Tommy just... looks at him, like he can't quite believe this is real. Blinks, then swallows, then blinks again. Buck distantly wonders if maybe he's rushing things, if this is going too fast, but then Tommy's face lights up; eyes crinkling and nose scrunching from how wide he's smiling. He looks... adorable, yes, but also so incredibly beautiful. Buck loves him.

"So," Buck says, a little bit more confident now, biting down on his own smile. "Is that a yes?"

Tommy's smile softens at that, eyes warm as his hand moves from Buck's back up towards his neck, the other one coming up to cradle Buck's jaw. Then, he pulls Buck down towards him, leaning up to meet him halfway. Buck absolutely melts against him, reveling in the way Tommy guides him into one kiss after another, before breaking apart and pressing their foreheads together.

"Of course," Tommy breathes, pulling Buck impossibly closer, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. Buck moves his hand until it rest on Tommy's chest, feels his heart under the palm of his hand, beating steadily as he continues, "Of course it's a yes."

[mazzystar24]

I wanna ruin your days so I wanna point out the painful thing I realised:

when Buck had the pulmonary embolism in the Grant-Nash backyard the doctors said that the reason he survived was because he was surrounded by medical professionals but when we saw Maddie and Chimney at the hospital neither had a single drop of blood on them so the only thing that makes sense is that Hen and Eddie were the ones that got Buck stable 🤧

[firewasabeast]

There was an eerie silence in the hospital room. Nothing was beeping, all the other visitors were long gone, there didn't even seem to be anyone moving around in the halls.

He wasn't very comfortable. They'd brought him in a bed hours ago, but he couldn't seem to move away from the chair. He could keep their hands tangled together this way. Could press a finger against Tommy's wrist and make sure he continued to feel a pulse.

Yeah, the monitors could tell him that Tommy was still there, alive and alright and likely to be discharged in a day or two. But it made Buck feel better to feel that steady thump, thump, thump under the pad of his finger.

He closed his eyes. Tried to steady his own breathing: in, hold, out, hold, in, hold, out. Over and over until his heart calmed down again.

It'd been a problem for him since he got the call. Tommy had been hurt. Fallen off a ladder and lost consciousness. Honestly, they didn't know in the beginning if he'd broken his back or even his neck. They did know that his arm was definitely broken, bending in a way that arms were never meant to bend.

Buck had gotten to the hospital before they had finished all of Tommy's tests. Had sat and paced in the waiting room while Bobby tried to help keep him calm.

Over time, Maddie had come with Chimney. Then Hen and Karen, and Eddie with Christopher. Athena, even while working, had spared some time to stop by and bring food.

Buck didn't eat.

Couldn't eat, really.

He did manage a few sips of a milkshake, mostly for Maddie's sake, but it made him feel more nauseous than anything.

When the doctor finally came out and told him that, besides the arm, there were no other broken bones, Buck took what felt like his first breath since the phone call.

He still had to wait until after Tommy's surgery to see him. His arm needed a rod and pins so it would heal properly.

People filtered in and out. Maddie and Chim had to pick up Jee. Hen and Karen had to get Mara and Denny, and Christopher went with them. Athena had to leave for a robbery call.

Bobby and Eddie stayed. They stayed until Tommy was wheeled into recovery. Stayed until Tommy briefly woke up and managed to mumble a slightly high, “Ev'n? Wha' happened?” Stayed until Buck ate some real food. Stayed until Buck had won the fight with the nurses that he was going to stay the night and they might as well give up on trying to get him to leave because it wasn't going to work.

Eddie left first, letting Buck know he'd be back in the morning.

Everyone would be back in the morning. They'd help out and do whatever they needed to do so that Tommy was as comfortable as possible during his hospital stay.

Bobby stayed a while longer, until the sun had fully set and the little clock above the door showed the short hand on the nine and the long hand on the seven.

They hadn't talked much. Buck, always ready for a conversation, couldn't seem to get many words out.

But before Bobby left, Buck did manage to get up briefly and allow himself to be wrapped in his captain's arms. A tear fell down his face then, as Bobby reassured him that Tommy was okay. He'd recover. He'd be okay.

He pulled himself back together before Bobby had walked out the door. Sat back down beside Tommy, held onto the hand that wasn't connected to a severely broken arm, and made sure to keep a finger over that pulse point.

The room was still dimly lit at two-thirty in the morning. Just enough light for Buck to watch Tommy's face. Make sure there were no signs of discomfort.

In the silence, in his time to do nothing but think, Buck was pretty sure he finally understood. He understood the fear he put his family (Maddie, mostly) through every time he got injured. He understood how quickly someone can be taken from you. He understood just how much a person can mean to you.

People had tried to tell him before.

He never fully got it until now.

Buck scooted his chair closer to Tommy, so he could press his lips to Tommy's calloused knuckles.

He rested his cheek against their intertwined hands after that, closed his eyes and breathed Tommy in. He smelled like Hibiclens, mostly. But he still had that warmth to him, even in the chilly hospital room.

Buck thought of their previous night together. He'd fallen asleep with Tommy's arm tight around his waist, hand sprawled over his stomach. He'd been safely nestled with his back against Tommy's chest. That's how they slept most nights. Sometimes they'd end up the other way around, or facing each other with arms and legs tangled, but mostly Tommy held onto Buck like he was precious cargo.

Ironic.

The adrenaline of the day began to dissipate, so Buck let himself drift off.

It may not be the most comfortable sleeping position, and he'd definitely regret it whenever he woke up, but there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Soon Tommy would wake. The pain medication would wear off and he'd be uncomfortable. They'd have to schedule doctor's appointments, physical therapy sessions, and possibly more surgeries. Tommy would get grumpy about how much help he needed, and he'd try to overdo it until Buck would be forced to give him an ultimatum. There would be good days and bad ones. Leaps forward and countless setbacks.

And Buck would be grateful for every second of it, because it meant Tommy was alive and safe. As long as those two things were true, Buck could handle anything.

[batgrldes]

If these bitches are gonna fight, it better last longer than an episode. I want tension, I want the cold shoulder of one vs the soft pinning of another. And when one isn't looking, the other is staring longingly at them. Then, they must reconnect when something happens with Christopher. It brings Buck to the Diaz house, has them reassuring their son, tucking him in, and then finding comfort and relief in each other's arms (and lips if we're lucky).