#911fic

[the-gay-pinata]

In light of the new photo shoots of Ryan and Oliver I would like to petition all fic writers to come together and bless this mortal plane with Buck in a wet transparent T-shirt titties completely out into the world and Eddie in a cropped jersey or smth navel on full display like the fabulous slut he deserves to be. Obviously they’re Both losing their minds about it but they find a solution involving a certain kitchen counter (their kitchen counter now) and mouths everywhere and really they would tell you thats what kitchen counters are for

[minalover]

say his name (and he appears)

buck & christopher. 1704 words. complete. rated g. christopher diaz has two dads, reunited at a disaster

Buck sneezes. The entire team is huddled around Bobby on the grounds of the University of Southern California, trying to hear his incident rundown over firehoses, sirens, and cries for help— and Buck sneezes. "Bless you," Athena replies. "Two more and you're cut off," Chimney quips. "Sorry, guys," Buck croaks, wiping his hoodied forearm against his nose. "Cap?" Bobby shoots Buck a slightly concerned Dad Glare, but continues on anyway. Buck shouldn't be here, necessarily. He knows this. He's been sick with a stupid cold for two days. No amount of socks and hoodies seem to help, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Chills, aches, and mucus coming out his nose and down his throat, making talking just slightly to the left of miserable. But when a biohazard incident put his friends, his family, in danger? Of course he's here. There's nowhere else he'd rather be. or; Buck attends an emergency while on a sick day, and it turns out to be a good idea

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[markofalover]

drive me, crazy

words: 5,300 | rating: T

tag list: @eddiebabygirldiaz @kananjarus @llovely @caroandcats @inthecarwithaboy @leothil @blorbodiaz @eddiegayass @endmewhereistand @gayeddietruther @wanderingcas @fangwhoria (interact to be on tag list! <3)

Raphael’s trying his best not to be nosy, but his eyes land on Eddie’s screen anyway, and he huffs out a quiet laugh. “My wife sends me stuff like that, too. I don’t know where she finds it.” “If she’s anything like Buck, she’s got the oddity section on AP News bookmarked.” Eddie’s card makes a soft little beep as he taps it against the machine, and Raphael smiles at him as he tears the receipt off and hands it over. “How long have y’all been together?”

...or, everyone in El Paso has lost their minds.

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[xofemeraldstars]

after the nth time tommy and buck run into each other on a call, it's no longer awkward and they smile as they walk towards each other for their regularly scheduled chit chat when tommy says teasingly "we really gotta stop running into each other like this" and buck's face kinda fall and he replies quietly, softly, "but I love running into you" and then tommy does that soft eyes look that he does just for him and says "me too"

[hotshotsxyz]

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

No.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

[lonelychicago]

gonna save me, call me baby

buck/eddie | explicit | one shot | 14.5k words |

“Sorry again, uh, Doctor Diaz.” He says and reaches a hand out to shake it with the man's. “I'm Buck. Evan Buckley, but everyone calls me Buck.” “Eddie. And oh, I thought—” The doctor raises his eyebrows so high that they almost reach his hairline, gaze flicking to Maddie and then back to Buck. “Sorry. You must be the husband.” “God, no!” “Gross.” Both Maddie and Buck say at the same time, making identical, disgusted faces. or; Eddie is Maddie's OB. And Buck is smitten.

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[doeeyeseddie]

this life that we make

Eddie stares at his bottle of beer and grits his teeth. He has to go, he knows it’s the right thing. He’s going to go. Why does he want Buck to ask him to stay so badly? “You should probably try to sleep early tonight,” Buck suggests, the first words he’s said in at least half an hour. “Make sure you’re ready for the drive tomorrow.” Eddie sets down his beer, watches the condensation dripping down the sides for a moment, and tries to hold back the words burning in the back of his throat. He fails. “Why did you never ask me to stay?” Buck makes a sound, a mix of a hiss and a hiccup, and when Eddie turns to look at him, he suddenly looks as if he’s in pain. “Eddie, I–,” Buck rubs his hands on his thighs. “Did you want me to?” “I want you to be honest with me,” Eddie says. “And I guess I hope you’re not actually this…unbothered by my leaving.” ~ Eddie moves to Texas. It brings to light a lot of feelings.

5.7k, rated t

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[thelikesofus]

speaking your (love) language

9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 11.5k words | love languages, getting together, love confessions, mutual pining, pov eddie diaz

Eddie has never put any faith in personality quizzes. Buck, however, loves them, just as he does every other curiosity-driven deep dive into the vast pool of knowledge on the World Wide Web.

“This one is different though,” Buck claims. He’s been trying to convince the whole crew to take a new test all morning.

“How is it different, Buckley?” Chimney asks from where he is slowly merging into a bean bag by Hen’s feet.

“It’s about Love Languages.”

OR

Eddie's love language is acts of service and Buck takes full advantage of this information.

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[elvensorceress]

snickerdoodles of longing

buddie | 52K | rating: Explicit | ao3 | complete!

“We’ll still talk. Right?” Buck asks quietly, just as ripped apart as Eddie feels. “We’ll st-still be. Talking? We won’t— you won’t— We’ll still talk? We’re still— E-Ed-Eddie.”

Eddie stops and grips him hard, clutches enough to bruise, takes hold of both Buck’s shoulders so he can keep him close. “Yes,” he says and might not believe his absence will matter for long because Buck doesn’t need him. Buck has other people, Buck will forget him and all of this. But as long as Buck wants it, as long as Eddie is breathing, he’ll belong to Buck. “Yes. Always. If you want me to, I will. I swear.”

Buck sighs. It’s long, deep, slowly letting out all his air. “Okay.” He sounds so defeated. But he goes still the next second and then looks up at Eddie. “If I want you to? If? If I want you to?”

Well. Eddie doesn’t know how Buck will feel tomorrow or a week from now or if he’ll be angry and want to forget. Why would he want to remember how Eddie is leaving? Eddie doesn’t want to remember that.

~

Eddie decides he needs to move to Texas and slowly unravels as he realizes what he really wants and what he's losing.

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[aashiqeddiediaz]

call this little ficlet thursday, this is @deareddie's fault and is inspired by the h50 episode where danny asks steve what he's wearing and guesses, "cargo pants."

“What are you wearing?”

A laugh startles its way out of Eddie. He abandons the box he was just opening to pick his phone up, turning the speaker off. “What?”

“Well, you won't tell me anything else.” Buck’s laughter filters across the line, teasing and warm and everything that makes Eddie’s heart hurt now that he’s 800 miles away from him. “So, what are you wearing, Eddie?”

It’s that tone that Eddie gets stuck on, all low and flirty the way Buck gets sometimes. Harmless to everything except Eddie’s heart, which kicks in gear every time he hears it. 

Like the day he'd found Eddie's iPad flipped over, an innuendo pressed into the curve of his smirking mouth, evidently unaware of what was to come.

Sometimes, he wonders if Buck ever means the things he says to Eddie — if he ever imagines things being a little different, of meeting Eddie at a bar and putting the moves on him. The same moves Eddie’s made fun of him for countless times, good-natured and teasing the way they are with each other.

But then he thinks about his Buck, sweet in his awkwardness, and heart worn on his sleeve, and wonders if he even wants that cocky front. He has no doubt Buck could back it up, knows that there’s a world of truth and skill behind that cockiness, but the man he wants is the one with mismatched socks who slips and slides in Eddie’s kitchen, accidentally knocking over flour bags and leaving trails of cinnamon sugar in the tile grout.

He thinks about the Buck who'd walked into the realization that Eddie was going to leave, and despite his clear sadness, had stuck by Eddie' side, sharing the misery with him.

He thinks about the Buck who challenges him, shoves at him, bullies his way into Eddie's life, the one who drives him up the fucking wall — and the same one he wouldn't have any other way.

He'd fallen in love with his version of Buck, pushy and annoying and endearing and his whole goddamned family.

Hell of a time to have that realization — looking at Buck standing in the rain in his side mirror, his expression devastated and crumpled. The knot of too late, too late, too late had formed in Eddie's gut at the sight, and has only gotten bigger in the 26 hours since.

26 hours since he left LA, left Buck standing alone in front of the only house that's felt like home outside of his Abuela's home, and they've already talked on the phone for a good 7 of those hours.

“Why do you want to know?” Eddie returns, lowering his voice in turn. He knows this game, knows how he can modulate his own voice, make it a little rougher, add an edge to it. He knows how to add the suggestive tone to his own voice, too.

Even with as clumsy as it sounds to his own ears, Buck’s breath hitches over the line.

Eddie smiles, looking down at himself. The Texas humidity had started sticking to him by the time he unpacked the third box from the back of the U-haul, so in actuality, he’s just in a pair of shorts, his shirt thrown off somewhere among the piles of stuff in the rental. He's sweaty and gross, covered in dust and grime, and even a little grease because his truck had started making a foreboding sound and Eddie was not about to have it crap out on him after 12 hours on the road.

So all in all, he looks gross, but he'll play into this fantasy anywhere.

“Eddie.”

Eddie knows what hope sounds like on Buck. Knows what Buck sounds like when he wants answers, can picture him clearly in his mind. Bright blue eyes, head ducked down and cocked slightly to the side.

“Buck,” Eddie says, letting his voice warm with amusement. “Ask me again.”

There's a line in the sand here, one that Eddie brushes away with a swipe of three words. Tomorrow, he'll focus on Chris and his parents and everything else he needs to do, but today, this is for him and Buck.

A beat of silence. Then, lower and rougher and flirtier than before — “What are you wearing?”

Eddie grins.

[spotsandsocks]

A Place for You, Next to Me Chapt 1 and 2

Buck finds out that Eddie doesn’t really ‘do’ birthdays so what’s a best friend supposed to do, obviously he can’t let Eddie think he doesn't care. So he makes a plan to celebrate and it’s a good plan, it really is and is it really his fault if one little thing goes wrong with their booking.

It’s certainly not his fault that Eddie’s reaction to the unexpected problem would turn a pleasant weekend away into an agony of temptation.

A tale of pining and love and only one bed.

Fans of only one bed shenanigans - this one’s for you.🥹🌈🛏️🎂🛏️🥃🥃🥃🛏️🤯😍🌈❤️‍🔥 Chapt 1&2 today 3&4 tomorrow 💕

Now I was half way though writing this when @bobbysfirehose posted this stunning piece of art that blew my mind away (all their art is magnificent btw so go check out and shower with love) and with permission I tried to describe the pose towards at the end of the fic because it was just perfect for the situation, so you have a nice visual to go along with the words.

Eddie hadn’t expected any reaction at all, least of all the one he’s getting. Standing in his kitchen he watches Buck process the information he just casually mentioned as part of thier conversation about Chris’ next birthday.

“Are you serious?” 

His best friend is standing there with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, a puzzled frown on his brow, it’s adorable and amusing and God he loves this man so much. Eddie however is wise enough to look away and keep the sentiment out of his voice.

“Yes I’m serious, Buck. I’ve never done anything special to celebrate any of my birthdays.”

If anything that simple statement makes matters worse, Buck's mouth opens and shuts. He looks like a goldfish, apparently he’s managed to render him speechless and that’s quite an impressive feat.

Eddie takes another sip of beer to hide his smile as Buck flounders. The other man is looking horrified, “Your 15th? That’s special right?”

He shrugs. “Dad was away. We did some stuff at church, nothing big. I got a cake.”

“What about 18?  Or or your 21st?” 

He throws Buck a raised eyebrow, “Think about that for a second.”

A pained look crosses his friend’s face “Oh.” Then his nose crinkles “ Oh.. I don’t think I want to.”

Buck sounds upset. Eddie can just imagine what he’s thinking, how he’s comparing the life that he himself had between 16 and 21 with the one Eddie had. The tragic sympathy emanating out of sad pools of blue is a bit much though, it really wasn’t that bad. Yeah, he didn’t get a lot of time to be young but that’s ok he got other stuff instead. He ended up with the best kid in the world so he can’t really complain about missing birthday celebrations. 

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, so my life’s been a bit different than yours, but that’s ok . Still got cake, even got a balloon once.” 

His joke falls flat, Buck looks devastated .

“Honestly, all completely normal, I promise, don’t freak out on me.”

He moves around him heading back to the couch and if he touches his arm on the way past, well it’s a tight space to squeeze through. Buck’s own fault really, for filling so much of it. His friend's voice follows him out of the kitchen. 

“But nothing since you got old?”

Eddie turns just so Buck can appreciate the eye roll, “I'm not exactly old Buck, I’m the same age as you.”

“Are we sure about that?” 

Abruptly Buck’s mood shifts and he’s teasing, humour replacing the tragic look that had been there only seconds ago.

“You do kinda look older than me. Pretty sure I spotted some gray hairs on you the other day.”

Eddie glares and throws a handy cushion without aiming. Buck catches it easily and grins, before taking another swig of beer. Eddie tries not to watch his lips or his throat too closely.

[woodchoc-magnum]

all these broken parts

all these broken parts buck/eddie, 56k, mature

author: woodchoc_magnum

read the tags: angst with a happy ending, getting together, pining, depression, post-season 7, b/t breakup, buddie roommates era

summary: Set post-Season 7, where Eddie is struggling with depression, trying to put his life back together, and hopelessly in love with his best friend.

excerpt:

"Eddie, come on. You have to get up. You can't just sleep and hope that things will miraculously get better. He's angry, yeah, and it's going to take time, but you have to keep moving."

"I don't want to keep moving," Eddie snaps at him, sitting up in bed, positively fuming. "That's all I've ever done! I get shot down in a helicopter and I just keep moving. Shannon leaves me and I just keep moving. Shannon fucking dies and I just keep moving! I nearly died and I just kept moving – well, I'm done! Nothing is better! Everything is worse! No matter what I do, I keep hurting people, but if I just stay here in bed, I can't hurt anyone." With that, he curls up into a ball with his back to Buck, pulling a pillow over his head.

Eddie's stubborn, but so is Buck, and he decides to play dirty.

"You're hurting me," he says quietly.

"How?" Eddie spits. "I'm not doing anything to you."

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm scared."

"Scared."

"Yeah. That you're gonna sink so deep into this thing that I won't be able to pull you out," he says honestly, "and that one day… you'll be gone. I'll lose you. I think about what Chim went through with Maddie, and… I'm to blame there too, you know? I knew she was hurting; I knew she wasn't well, but I didn't do enough, so… I'm not gonna let you run away from this, or hide away, or… any of that shit. I'll stay here. I'll drive you to your appointments. I'll sleep on the floor in your room if that's what it takes to keep you here."

He glances over at Eddie, and registers the slight shake of his shoulders – Eddie's crying, in silence, but still. Buck's words are having an effect.

"You remember when you told me that I'm not expendable?" he continues. "Well, you are irreplaceable. You're my best friend in the whole fucking world. I love you. I would do anything for you, so… that's why I'm here. And that's why you won't chase me away."

Eddie lets out a shuddering sob. "Fuck," he blurts out. "God fucking damn it."

"Yeah, you are stuck with me," Buck says ruefully. "Bet you're regretting that right about now."

"No, I– never," Eddie weeps. "Never. Okay?"

Buck glances over at him again – he's crying, hugging himself, and Buck just can't leave him on his own anymore. So he slides over the bed, spoons around Eddie and wraps his arms around him in a burly hug.

Eddie freezes, at first, but then he relaxes, letting out a sigh as he allows Buck to hold him. They lie in silence together, until Eddie slides a hand down Buck's arm, and entwines their fingers together.

"I got you," Buck says in his ear.

"Yeah," Eddie murmurs. "You do."

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[markofalover]

gaps of sunlight

words: 16,448 | rating: E

tag list: @eddiebabygirldiaz @kananjarus @llovely @caroandcats @inthecarwithaboy @leothil @blorbodiaz @eddiegayass @endmewhereistand (interact to be on tag list! <3)

“Is it possible,” Chimney says, breaking the silence. Buck looks up from his phone and sees him sip from a mug, eyes glinting. “For two people to get even closer after one of them moves away?” Buck flushes. He locks his screen, the text thread between him and Eddie fading, but it just lights up again with a notification.

...or, Eddie moves, Buck pines, and they are both very normal about it.

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[xofemeraldstars]

inspired by this post

tommy gets invited to join the 118 for lunch during their shift, once bobby is bac ofc, and he gets there while buck and bobby are prepping the food so he gets a chance to chat with the rest of the 118

sweet moments of buck looking at tommy being apart of his family and bobby nudging him cause he's about to burn something, chuckling as buck scrambles and the others look over to see what it's all about, they tease each other as usual. chim, hen and eddie pull tommy into the teasing as well and just overall a wholesome moment, we see buck and tommy grinning at each other

once the food is done they start carrying all the plates to the table and people are starting to sit down when buck and tommy reach for the same chair (oh you know the invisible string of it all) and chim sees this happen and laughs at them going "right that was tommy's spot!" hen teases them to get another chair when she sees the look on their faces as they actually contemplate the situation, cause these chairs are not made for two men built like them to share (who in whose lap tho?)

buck pushed tommy down to sit and then runs over to get another chair and pushes in close to tommy, wide smile on his face as he looks around the table at everyone passing around plates and joking and laughing cause this is something he's been craving for for many years and he's finally got it ❤️

[hotshotsxyz]

since forever

(buddie) (1.3k words) at no point in time while writing this did i have a single plan for where it was going. it's soft, it's sweet, it has minor spoilers for the blair witch project (1999)

Bizarrely, the first thing that occurs to Eddie post-realization is that he lied to a priest. The thought startles a laugh out of him. Whoops.

He feels good. Like—shockingly good. Light and optimistic and free, everything he’s been trying to let in since Father Brian gave him the go ahead to stop punishing himself, which—

It isn’t actually that he needed permission, especially not from a priest. Or maybe he did.

All he really knows is that this joy he’s letting in? It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt him, or Chris or Buck or anyone else he loves. So when Eddie finally realizes why he’s been putting Buck in his own category for years, he doesn’t even try to put it back in the box.

He loves Buck. He wants Buck. And he’s allowed to want. It’s a good thing, even. And speaking of Buck—

His best friend/the love of his freaking life is staring at him like he’s grown two heads. Which, fair. He’s not entirely sure where they are in the movie, but as far as he recalls there isn’t much in the way of comedy in The Blair Witch Project.

It’s just—Buck was sitting on the literal edge of his seat, pillow clutched protectively to his chest, staring at the TV with eyes wider than dinner plates. Who in their right mind could see something like that and come to any conclusion other than love?

Buck pauses the movie.

“Do not tell me you think this,” he says, gesturing at the screen where, oof, yeah, a young woman is sobbing in terror, “isn’t scary.”

“No, no,” Eddie replies, “very scary.”

Buck snorts. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, but it’s wrapped in one of those warm grins that give him away every time.

Eddie hums agreeably.

“Alright, fine,” Buck says. He scoots closer until he’s flush against Eddie’s side. It’s really not that much of a scoot. “If you’re gonna go all brave strong man on me, I get to use you as a shield.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Eddie sighs. He wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders, just because he wants to.

He can feel Buck’s exhale as he settles against his shoulder, and for all the times they’ve touched before, this feels different. Maybe it isn’t, though. Maybe Eddie’s just different.

As the tension in the movie ramps, Buck burrows further and further into Eddie. He kicks his feet up onto the couch and twists so that Eddie’s forearm falls from his shoulder and drapes across his chest instead. It’s maybe the most comfortable Eddie’s ever been.

On screen, the two remaining characters creep into a seemingly abandoned house. On the couch, Buck squeaks and grabs Eddie’s hand. This, he decides, is his new favorite movie.   

“We’re never going hiking again,” Buck declares as the credits roll.

“Sure,” Eddie says, shrugging with the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by Buck’s head. “Until you see a cool trail on Instagram.”

“I’m serious!” Buck says. He tilts his head back until he can kind of make eye contact with Eddie. “I am not getting Blair Witched.”

Eddie hums, pretending to think about it. “How about we just… never go hiking in Maryland?” he proposes.

Buck grins up at him, and oh, Eddie has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he does in this exact moment.

“Deal,” Buck says. He sits back up and rests his head back against Eddie’s shoulder.

There’s a long stretch of quiet where Buck plays with his fingers and Eddie revels in the feeling of it. He thinks—he’s almost certain—that he could ask Buck for anything right now and he’d say yes.

Kiss me.

Move in with me.

Marry me.

His lips tick into a small smile at the thought, but he takes it no further.

“Hey, Eds?” Buck asks quietly.

The TV screen has shut itself off, leaving the room in semi-darkness, cut only by the light of the streetlamps outside.

“Yeah?”

“Something’s different,” he says. It’s not a question.

“It is,” Eddie acknowledges.

“Good different?”

Eddie considers for a moment. Something about the hour, the darkness, Buck’s warmth against his side, makes him feel brave. He presses the smallest, softest of kisses into Buck’s hair.

“Good different,” Eddie confirms.

“Oh,” Buck breathes.

“Good ‘oh’?” Eddie asks teasingly.

Buck flicks one of Eddie’s fingers in recompense. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were fishing for something,” he says.

“If I am?”

Buck takes a shaky breath. “Then I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me, Eds.”

He sits up and turns to face Eddie directly, and as much as Eddie misses the warmth of his body, he wants to look Buck in the eye for this part.

“I love you,” Eddie says.

Buck’s lips part in an awed sort of surprise.

“I’m in love with you,” he continues. “I have been, for years, I think. I just… wasn’t ready to let myself look at it.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, already a little wrecked.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Eddie reassures. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I—” Buck says quickly, stumbling over his words. “I didn’t—I’ve never even—” He looks down and his expression shifts, like he didn’t realize he was still holding on to Eddie’s hand. “You love me?” Buck asks, looking back up, eyes shining in the yellow glow of the streetlamps.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “More than I think I knew was possible.”

Buck exhales in a punched-out kind of way. He raises a hand to Eddie’s face and ghosts two fingers along his cheekbone and down the line of his jaw. “I didn’t—I didn’t know I could,” he breathes.

“You can, Buck,” Eddie says. “Whatever you want, it’s—”

Buck surges forward and cuts him off with a kiss, and if there was a single doubt left in Eddie’s mind, this would’ve extinguished it. It’s a little messy, a little awkward, and the angle’s not quite right, but—

It’s Buck, so it’s perfect.

He pulls back, gasping for air. “I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Eddie catches one of his hands and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on Buck’s wrist. “Don’t be,” Eddie says softly. “It’s okay. If you need time—”

“No!” Buck says quickly. “Or—maybe? I just—” He blows out a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Eddie says, ducking his head until Buck meets his eye again. “I told you once that you didn’t need to be anything for anybody. That includes me, okay?”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck says.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You don’t even have to want,” Eddie says, gesturing between them in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Buck sags a little. “Of course I want,” he whispers.

Warmth floods Eddie’s chest and overflows into his stomach. “Yeah?” he asks.

A slow smile spreads across Buck’s face. “Yeah,” he says. “I really do.”

Eddie has known happiness before, felt it in small bursts and long stretches. But what he’s feeling now—it’s blindingly bright, brilliant and beautiful and free of fear in a way he’s not sure he’s ever experienced.

“Can I kiss you again?” Buck asks breathily.

Eddie nods, not quite sure he can trust his tongue anymore.

This time, Buck leans forward deliberately. He cups Eddie’s face in his hands and tucks his nose against Eddie’s before carefully brushing their lips together. It’s featherlight and maddening in the best possible way.

He presses his lips against Eddie’s again, then teases them open with his tongue and—

God, if this is how it was always supposed to feel, Eddie’s pretty sure there are a few more revelations coming his way in the near future. For now, though, he just leans in.

“Oh!” Buck exclaims, popping back suddenly. “I love you, too,” he says. There’s something like wonder coloring his tone and writing itself across his face. “I really—Eddie, I think I’ve loved you forever.”

It’s not possible, not really. As difficult as it is to remember what it was like before his life became intertwined with Buck’s, that before still exists. Eddie knows that. But in his heart—he’s pretty sure his atoms started loving Buck’s at the beginning of the universe.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, drawing Buck back in. “Me too.”

[lonelychicago]

fresh out the slammer

buck/eddie | explicit | 16.9k words

“Don't.” Buck shuts him down quick and sharp, gaze darting and fixing on a point above Eddie's shoulder, as if looking him straight in the eye could actually kill him. "I know what you were going to say. Just— don't,” he says, setting his jaw determinedly. “What was I going to say?” Buck sighs and leans against the Jeep, tipping his head up and closing his eyes. “You still feel guilty. I can see it, Eds.” The old nickname cuts like a knife through Eddie's chest, and when he hears it, he can't help to make a small, involuntarily wounded sound at the back of his throat. Buck doesn't seem to notice, or care for it. “Don't do it, okay? You didn't ruin my life, you didn't—” Buck shakes his head and rubs a hand through his hair. “I made a decision years ago. That was all me, okay?” or; fellas, is it gay to go to prison for your best friend you're in love with? (the answer is yes, buck. that's very gay!)

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