#yes i've published a bit of that starstruck au scene before shhhh

[trippedandfell]

Soulmate goose of enforcement fic or starstruck au?

ahh you picked one of my favourite ones! soulmate goose of enforcement is based on this post, and likely will be the next thing i post, once i actually get around to writing the rest of it:

“Remember that time you thought you were being haunted by a crow?”

“Hi, Eddie. Nice to talk to you, Eddie. Jee-Yun’s doing great, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, not feeling very sorry at all. He stares at the goose in front of him, its beady eyes trained on his every movement. “I - uh. Think I might have something similar happening.”

He can hear rustling on Chim’s end of the line, the sound of a bag of chips opening. “What, you think there’s a vindictive crow out to ruin your life?”

“Uh,” Eddie tries stepping to the right. The goose follows. “Try a gigantic fucking goose.”

and the starstruck au is. uh. 70k that was my nanowrimo project last year and is currently a giant unedited mess. it's one of my favourite things i've ever written, though, so i hope that i'll get around to publishing it eventually, but in the meantime here's an out of context scene:

“Are you okay?” Eddie demands, heart lodged somewhere between his chest and his throat. 

For a second, there’s nothing but harsh breathing in his ear. Then Buck’s voice, vaguely disbelieving.

“Eddie?”

Eddie realizes, lying in bed with his laptop still open to a blurry video of Buck getting hit, that he may not have thought this through. 

“I saw the news,” he says, aiming for casual and missing for a mile. “I, uh, just wanted to check if you were okay. But it sounds like you are, and I’m now realizing it’s like two in the morning there, so I’ll just-“

“Wait, no,” Buck protests, laughing a little. “You can’t call me for the first time and then hang up! That’s not fair!”

Eddie is very, very grateful that Buck has no way of telling how red his face is. “I’m not going to hang up,” he promises, a little too honestly. 

“Good.”

“I am, however, going to bug you on concussion protocol,” Eddie says stubbornly, clicking over to a new tab. “Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Jesus, is this how competent I was supposed to be after I knocked you out?”

“That was different. You were … under a lot of pressure.”

Buck snorts. “That’s a generous way to put it.” Eddie can hear blankets rustling, the click of a kettle starting. It’s a hotel room night, then. “Seriously though, I’m fine. You know I have a team to check this stuff for me, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not-“ Eddie bites back the end of that sentence just in time. 

“Not what?”

They’re not me, Eddie feels like screaming. They’re not me, and you’re alone, and I want you here with me for reasons I can’t quite even admit to myself yet. 

“They’re not … they haven’t been knocked out themselves recently,” Eddie says, and it’s a lame excuse, but Buck gives him a soft pity laugh anyways. “I mean it! I have firsthand experience, you know.”

“You never let me forget,” Buck hums, and there’s something else in his voice that Eddie can’t quite place.

“You okay?”

“Who, me? Yeah, fine. It was just a couple overzealous fans with an extra iPhone. Seriously, that’s such a waste of money, did they even think -“

“Buck.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“No, that’s -“ Eddie pauses, rubs a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean, you can tell me about it, instead of talking circles around it, if you’d like.”

Buck laughs, but there’s no humour behind it. “How’d you know that’s what I was doing?”

Because I know you, Eddie wants to say. Because it’s only been a month, and I can already tell when you’re hurting, even from thousands of miles away. 

“You don’t have to talk about it you don’t want to,” Eddie says carefully. “But I have a feeling that’s not the case. That you’re just bottling it up because you feel like that’s what’s expected of you.”

There’s another deep breath from the other end of the line. 

“It’s pretty fucking shitty,” Buck says, and Eddie heart hurts at the ache in his voice. “It’s just - I feel like a puppet or something sometimes when I’m onstage. Like someone’s inserting coins and telling me to perform. And I know that’s the job, that’s what I signed up for, but it still sucks.”

“You didn’t sign up for having phones thrown at your fucking head,” Eddie says, irrationally angry despite himself. “Jesus, Buck.”

Buck lets out a shaky laugh. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“It is,” Eddie says vehemently. “Not you, obviously - you could never be ridiculous. But you’re still a person. Even when you’re onstage.” He thinks of the first night in the car, the missed texts on Buck’s phone. “Is there anyone you can talk to about this stuff?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m in therapy, the answer’s yes,” Buck says dryly.

“No, more along the lines of someone on your team. Like your - I don’t know, your label or something. Shouldn’t they be able to stop this?”

“Ah.” There’s a new edge to Buck’s voice. “Yeah, no. I don’t think they’ll be willing to step in.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too busy.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, and he sounds tired. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I genuinely care about you. But for both of our sakes, I need you to drop this.”

“But -“

“Please,” Buck whispers, and Eddie relents. He’s still tense, body coiled tightly, and he knows that tomorrow at the gym he’s going to absolutely beat the shit out of a punching bag, but - that’s not for right now. That’s not what Buck needs.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, because he can hear Buck’s breathing at the other end of the line, the way it hitches every few seconds.

“Stay?”

Eddie feels himself relax. “Of course,” he promises, floundering for a subject change and coming up empty.