#911fox fic

[stanathanxoox]

Coming Home To You

Thank you to @creativepromptsforwriting for these prompts; Twenty-Fourth Day of Gift-Giving: Twenty-Four Touches. There will be more of these fics to come as they are a work in progress but I hope you like what I have so far

Stanathanxoox

Whispering, lips almost touching the ear – Evan Buckley x reader

It had been a tiring day, case after case had come through the station since you had started your 16 hour shift at the fire station, and the first thing you did as you walked into the apartment and found your girlfriend of eight months standing at the bench cooking dinner was smile as you toed off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You couldn’t be happier to see her and as you made your way into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around her waist as you lean down and whisper in her ear

“It’s my favourite part of the day to come home to you my sweet Y/N” she tilts her back and you feel her whole body hum before she whispers

“I love coming home to you too Evan, your my favourite part of every day” she whispers and you beam.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-just-like-z1ggyd​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​

Tag List for Buck and Eddie: @mrspeacem1nusone

[911buddieweek]

Suggest prompts for Buddie Week 2024!

I have decided to put multiple questions AND the prompt suggestions into one form, this way will be easier and faster to collect answers.

Filling out the form is completely anonymous! It is open until November 29th, 12:00 Central European TIme (UTC +1). Once the form ends, I will collect all the prompts and make a new form where you can vote for your favorite prompts.

I think you can answer multiple times, however, this is the first time I am using Microsoft Forms so I'm not sure.

If you click on the link, the form should open. I'm excited to see your answers and the prompts you suggest!

The polls for when Buddie Week takes place will stay on Tumblr, so keep an eye on this blog!

Sharing this in any fandom space is appreciated! Let all your Buddie friends (or enemies) know.

[starlingbite]

Like the ebbing of the tide

Relationship: Buck/Eddie Rating: G Word count: 5k Summary: It's five years since the Tsunami and the city is remembering the disaster with a whole series of memorials, events, exhibitions and more.

Eddie worries about Buck but can't do much to help his friend who isn't dealing well with all the reminders.

It all comes to a head during a call and Buck has no choice but to confront it, once and for all.

READ IT HERE

Huge thanks to @skyhighrollins911 for creating some really cool art for my story! It’s it gorgeous?!!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!

@thebestbooksaround @paranoidbean​ @justsmilestuffhappens​

[lavoixhumaine]

you got a fifty-plus year old woman pregnant because you think relationships aren't valid unless a woman shits out a kid, you got bigger writing problems than wrongly estimating the size of 8 year olds

You clearly are not reading the story or if you are, you lack basic comprehension skills which would be kind of tragic, honestly.

She is not fifty in the AU story. Their ages were properly adjusted to fit the situation. Also, women don’t “shit out” kids. So, you probably need to learn how the human reproductive system works too.

Being educated is not a bad thing and you seem like you have a lot to learn so best of luck with that. 😘

[loveless-fairy]

Summary:

"He is involved because he cares. And he is more than just Evan's boss. He is his friend, someone Evan knows he can go to, no matter what happens". Unlike you, Maddie left unsaid but everybody got the message. "Isn't he the same captain he sued after his accident?” Phillip asked ironically. "Bobby was trying to protect him. He and Evan talked things out and everything is okay now," answered Maddie. "Protecting him, from what? Himself? Because that I can believe," he mocked. -- Buck is struck by lightning, the Buckley parents are awful human beings and Bobby Nash can cure all the daddy issues in the world.

Read in AO3

[dorothygale]

in honor of us being fed today...

everything you want

Eddie finally admits how exhausted he is--in more ways than one. (Itty bitty 5x13 spec fic written but never posted. Obviously not canon compliant. Bon appetit.)

“Frank said I should practice being selfish.” Eddie’s voice shook as he stared at the wall. “But I think–I think some things are just… too much.”

“You deserve everything you want, Eds.”

“What if…” Eddie trailed off, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Buck gently pulled Eddie’s right hand from his face, and didn’t let go. “What if what?” he asked softly.

Eddie still didn’t meet Buck’s gaze. “What if what I want is you?”

“I’m right here,” he assured Eddie with a twinge of uncertainty. “You’ve got me.”

“No, I don’t,” Eddie muttered as he jerked his hand out of Buck’s grasp.

Buck swallowed, searching Eddie’s face. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled.

Eddie suddenly stood, tossing the baseball bat to the side and letting it roll under the bed, though he barely noticed. “You do. You do. Don’t lie to me.”

Eddie seemed like he was ready to burst with nervous energy as he paced, fresh tears still on his cheek. Buck felt like he couldn’t possibly move even if he tried.

“Fine,” Eddie grumbled when Buck didn’t respond. “You want me to be selfish? I can be selfish. Don’t leave. Stay here tonight. With me. And Christopher.”

He stopped trying to wear a hole in the floor, though he’d barely started–he all but collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted to go on.

“I want you to leave your girlfriend for me. I want you to change your entire life for me. I want someone who’s not me to get Chris up in the morning and cook dinner and clean the fucking bathroom and I want a million other things that I have no right to ask for. And I know I’m way too messed up for this, and I want–” Eddie’s voice broke. “I want you to not care.”

Buck stared at Eddie with wide eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself to process faster. Eddie needs you. He felt like he was reading the same paragraph over and over, never really absorbing the words.

Eddie sucked in a breath, trying to find the right words to backtrack, but nothing made it from his brain to his tongue.

Buck was hit with a sudden, obvious clarity. The words he was desperately trying to read–it didn’t matter what they said. It was Eddie. He’d sign at the bottom of the page anyway.

“Okay.”

Eddie looked up, making eye contact for the first time since Buck had entered the apartment. “What?”

“Okay,” Buck repeated.

[bellafarella]

hii 💘 so i had this idea

TW/illness. (please be safe)

what if Buck starts feeling sick and then after few tests, he discovers he has leukaemia, just as his brother. pretty ironic huh? he was born to save his brother but he couldn’t, will someone be able to save him?

also, anybody feel free to use this prompt if you like it

Hi anon!

Thanks for thinking of me to write this prompt for you 🫶🏼

It’s a little too angsty for me to tackle but I am posting this so that if any buddie writers would like to write it they can!!

[whollyjoly]

IS THERE A 9-1-1 (and/or buddie) DISCORD??? ive fallen DEEP in this show and would love to connect with people about it <3 

[wildlife4life]

Should I post the next chapter of my OUAT buddie fic today or wait until tomorrow, when the world is calmer and it won’t get lost in downward fandom spiral?

[penpatronuswhump]

Oh. The shirt was like the Ferris Wheel and the train and the plane etc. Not EXACTLY the same, because memories are inexact, but close enough so the audience knows what it is…

Eddie WAS there. Buck was even still wearing that shirt under his green sweater. No other symbol stayed with Buck for that long. ❤️

🤯

BUCK WEARING AN ALMOST FREAKING IDENTICAL SHIRT WHEN WE FIRST ENTER HIS COMA DREAM?!????????????????????????????

[lavoixhumaine]

i'm sorry that you think women can't have relationships if they don't get pregnant. maybe you should work on that in therapy

you seem like a very angry person so if you want, i can pay for your therapy, too. i do a lot of charity work and i do not discriminate against awful people and people with mental health issues.

[alkaysani-archived]

a little game, a little fun 

by: letswritethis (alkaysani)

for the enablers at the weewoofam discord 

the one where judd and buck are playing video games and judd discovers something about buck and decides to do something about it. and of course, grace wants to join in the fun

(read on ao3)

*** 

“Why are you grinning like a loon?”

Judd looks over to find Grace raising an eyebrow at him, and he motions for her to join him on the couch, lifting the headset and putting the volume up. “Say hello, dumbass.”

“Hey Grace!”

Grace blinks, grabbing the half empty bag of pork rinds from the table and pressing close. “Is that Buck?” she asks, and Judd grins, before putting a hand over the mic. “Just listen,” he says, before turning back on the television. “Alright Buck, let’s move out!” “Cool, cool. I got this—oh fuck.” Grace watches as Judd grins, all teeth, eyes shining mischievously. “Oh come on Buck. I’ve taught you how to do this. You can do better for me now,” he says, voice low.

And Buck makes a noise between a choke and a scream, and Grace’s eyes widen.

“Did he just—” Grace whispers, and Judd nods his head.

“Choke on his own tongue?” he hums, putting a hand on the mic again. “Oh yeah.”

Interesting.

So Grace crosses her legs, and puts another rind in her mouth and listens. And because Judd is Judd, when he sinks his teeth into something that amuses him, he will rattle it until he’s satisfied.

“Firehose, you’re better at handling your gear, I know it.”

“That’s it, just take it slow—oh, you went off too fast. That’s all good, you’re still learning.”

Even Grace has to smile at that, especially since Buck’s continuously just making whimpering and choking noises that he probably thinks is being drowned by the gunfire of the game. When in reality he’s putting on quite an amusing show.

“Tell him he needs a bigger gun,” Grace says at one point, because honestly, it’s a mismatch. “Can’t be part of your squad if he’s not packing the right piece,” she says, leaning over to speak directly into the mic and Judd has to a muffle his laughter by kissing her temple.

“Is that Grace?” Buck asks, voice soft, and way too bothered. She almost feels bad.

Almost.

“Why it is, Buck. Now, are you going to take my advise?” she asks, and there’s a deep breath, and an audible gulp.

“Yes Miss Grace,” he replies, soft, but loud and clear for the both of them.

“There’s a good boy.”

Again, it’s the same choking noise, but this time it’s followed by a crash, and Judd immediately puts himself on mute.

“I think we broke him,” he says, not looking the least bit sorry.

The poor boy.

There’s the obvious sounds Buck scrambling to straighten himself, and at one point Judd has to move the mic away from his ear as static cuts through.

“Buck? You good? Why are you all red? Why are you on the floor?”

Judd lets out an unabashed laugh.

“Oh hey, Hollywood!” Judd yells into the mic, winking at Grace as he does. “I was just teaching your boy here new tricks!” he says, and Buck squawks, and there’s an obvious pause.

“Tr—What kind of tricks, Judd?”

Grace bites her lip, trying not to laugh. That is not a happy sounding man.

“Oh you know. He’s all knew to my squad and baby boy here needed to learn how to ride with the big boys. So me and the wife are just teaching him how to handle the big guns and all,” Judd continues, and Grace leans in then, grabbing the mic.

“And he did so well, didn’t you Buck?” she says, and Eddie lets out a soft noise then, especially since Buck’s just breathing into the mic. Then, there’s even more shuffling.

“I think Buck needs some downtime,” Eddie says, and he sounds closer, and a little hard around the edges.

“C’mon Eddie—I’m good—”

“You are, aren’t you? So hush,” Eddie says, and they hear a soft sigh, and Buck humming.

“Okay Eddie.”

And that’s when Judd smiles, and Grace nods at him. Time to let these guys off the hook.

“Don’t be too angry, Hollywood. We were just getting him all worked up for you,” he says before gently taking off the headset now and giving it to Grace, so she can speak directly to the mic.

“Now say thank you, Eddie,” she says firmly, and there’s another shuffle.

“Thank you Grace,” Eddie says, almost like he can’t believe he’s there, but he’s no longer angry. Then there’s a soft sigh, so she waits another beat.

“Thank you, Miss Grace,” she barely hears afterwards, Buck sound breathless, muffled. She can only guess that he’s practically melted against Eddie.

Judd grins then, wrapping his arms around Grace now. They’ve long lost the game, but her husband doesn’t care.

“Didn’t I tell you gaming was fun, baby?”

“You did, husband,” she says, sliding onto his lap and kissing him softly, falling into it. Then they hear someone clearing their throat.

“Uh, you know we can still hear you right?”

Grace pulls back with an eyeroll, and grabs the mic. “Then start taking notes,” she says, and Buck lets out a soft squeak, then, voice down to a whisper.

“Okay, Miss Grace.”

Judd’s leaning and peppering kisses on her shoulder now, as she brings the mic to her lips one last time.

“There’s a good boy.”

[seeaddywrite]

give me strength so i can see (buddie; 9-1-1)

wow, okay, this is absolutely not something i should have written before i finished one of my wips, but this is what happened. i fully blame 9-1-1 & the chemistry between Buck & Eddie, because i couldn’t NOT write fic after the tsunami arc ended. this is my first foray into the fandom & their heads, so please be kind. also, this fic would not exist in its entirety without @soberqueerinthewild, who is always the best cheerleader, beta, & person around. <3 i’ve been in a bit of writing slump lately, so it feels really good to actually finish something!

warnings for self-loathing, references to depression, & excessive amounts of adverbs. 

The moment that Buck sees Christopher safely reunited with his father, all of the stress and adrenaline that had kept him going for the last several hours floods away instantaneously. He collapses forward, uncaring of the hard ground that rushes up to meet him. Hen and Chimney stop him from face-planting on the floor of the emergency hospital, but Buck barely tracks their reassurances or their hands as they try to assess the damage he’s done to himself in his frantic attempts to find Christopher. Buck wants to tell them to stop, that he’s fine, that all he ever needed was to witness the scene unfolding in front of them, with Eddie and Christopher, but he can’t quite manage the words through his chattering teeth. Blood loss is a bitch, and teamed with exhaustion, Buck knows it’ll take a while before he’s fully able to interact with the world again. 

Right now, that feels like a positive. The only two people he wants to talk to are half a hospital away, wrapped up in each other. Even when he regains feeling in his legs and is steady enough to leave the hospital, he doesn’t try to go near them. Instead, Buck watches from a distant cot as Christopher is checked out by a doctor and his father’s careful, assessing gaze, and slips through Chim and Hen’s guard to leave the makeshift hospital a moment after Chis is pronounced healthy, if tired and cold. 

It’s cowardly for him to leave like this, he knows, without so much as an apology to the brave little boy or any attempt to make this up to Eddie, but Buck is too tired to fight, and he’s not sure he could remain standing under the direct onslaught of Eddie’s entirely justified anger that night. Buck would face up to his mistakes later, but for now, it seems kinder for all of them to slip back to the apartment that doesn’t quite feel like a home and hide away under the blankets that still reek of depression and listlessness.  

It’s hard to sleep that night, despite the exhaustion plaguing him. The day’s events play on repeat in his head, waking him with a jolt every time he  manages to doze off. Every mistake is so obvious in retrospect -- had he really expected a child with cerebral palsy to keep himself steady on top of a floating fire truck? If he hadn’t had to play the hero, if he’d just stayed up there with Chris, it never would have happened. Buck would have had the little boy securely in his arms the entire time. He would never have been lost, or dependent on the kindness of strangers to get him to a hospital. Buck would never have been forced to look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he’d lost his son, or watch that familiar, impossibly deep gaze fill with grief and horror and blame before Chris’s miraculous reappearance. 

If Buck hadn’t had to play the fucking hero, maybe he would have finally been able to tell Eddie the truth about how he felt in the rush of victory, of survival and reunion. Maybe he would’ve finally had the guts to admit that being a best friend isn’t what he wants anymore, to say the words he’s been mulling over for what seems like forever. Maybe, just maybe, he could have discovered whether or not there was a chance for them to take things further -- but none of that matters now. The fear of being into guys -- or at least Eddie? Buck hasn’t quite figured that part out yet -- pales in comparison to the pain of losing a best friend and Christopher, who’d managed to get under his skin and cuddle in close to Buck’s heart when he wasn’t looking.  

In the end, Buck gets out of bed earlier than usual, giving up on sleep. There’s a slim chance that leaving his bed will stop his thoughts from continuing on that same, downward spiral, and Buck’s nothing if not a gambler. He winds up at the kitchen table, staring out at the sunrise with a beer sitting half-empty in front of him -- just staring out as the new day begins. It’s incredible, he muses, that from here, he could almost pretend nothing catastrophic had happened the day before. The sun is still rising, the birds are still chirping, the neighbors below him are still arguing at decibels loud enough to wake the dead. It’s the same as always, and just as he had for the last six months, Buck finds himself wondering how the world outside can simply keep going when his own personal world had come to a screeching halt. Only today, it’s worse than just losing his job, his identity. Now he’s lost his best friend, too, and the trust of a child he cares about. The losses are far more grievous.

A knock at the apartment door shakes him out of the self-loathing stupor, and Buck drags his aching body out of the kitchen chair with a groan. His bad leg throbs with the addition of his weight, but Buck has a lot of practice at ignoring that, these days, so he continues on with barely a limp, and opens the door, expecting to find Maddie, with her relentless optimism, or Bobby, with yet another pep talk prepared.

Instead, Eddie stares back at him from the hallway, his hands resting comfortably on Chris’s small shoulders as the little boy totters forward on his back-up crutches to hug Buck with a wide, blameless smile. Buck stands, stiff with astonishment, and pats Chris awkwardly on the back, still staring at Eddie, trying to figure out what the other man is playing at. Old instincts make him defensive, stiff, as Eddie leads Christopher into the apartment and begins rattling off the contents of the bag he’s plopped on the table next to Buck’s half-empty bottle. 

It’s hard, but Buck manages to tear his attention from Christopher, who’s sitting happily on the coffee table in front of the TV, to try to get a read on Eddie’s expression. Is this some kind of test? Is Buck supposed to play along, or is he supposed to blow up so Eddie has an easy excuse for Chris about why he’s not allowed to come over anymore? Buck has no idea, and the indecision makes him swallow harshly. He doesn’t want to fuck anything up any worse than he already has— by some miracle, he has both of the Diaz men in his home again, and God, Buck wants to keep them there. The sense of family they’ve given him in the last six months of hell is better than anything he’s had since he left home, and losing it once almost killed him. Losing it a second time, now, before he’s had the chance to say something? Buck doesn’t  think he could do it. 

“You want me to watch Christopher?” The words are incredulous, and not half as even as Buck would have liked, but he manages to keep his voice from cracking, so he takes the win where he can. 

Eddie’s less than a foot away now; Buck has closed the distance between at some point, but he honestly couldn’t pinpoint when. There’s no waver in his dark gaze, no uncertainty or anger, and Buck has no idea what to make of it, especially when his response is teasing and light. “It’s easy— he’s not very fast.”

Buck swallows the surprised response that threatens and schools his expression into something resembling calm, but his gut churns nervously. Everything about this interaction screams too easy, and if he’s learned anything through physical therapy, it’s that if something seems too easy, it probably is. No pain, no reward, his therapist is fond of reminding him, and Buck has always agreed. Then again, he’s never feared physical pain. This? The emotional toll of facing Eddie and Chris after his failures? That’s fucking terrifying.

“After everything that happened-“ 

“A natural disaster happened, Buck.”

Part of Buck wants to scoff, to point out everything that had happened after the natural disaster couldn’t be blamed on nature, not unless it was Buck’s. It is in his nature to tend toward making stupid fucking calls in the heat of the moment, after all. The other part of him soaks up Eddie’s words like a plant does sunlight. He keeps his eyes averted, though, still unable to accept it, unable to even fathom the possibility that Eddie doesn’t hate him. Because he should. Buck knows, because he’s pretty sure he hates himself. 

“I lost him, Eddie,” he manages, the reminder a low, defeated croak. Memories from the day before flicker in the spaces between words, broken images and impressions of the desperate search for Christopher, and Buck has to swallow once, twice, to defeat the nausea threatening to overcome him. Buck’s not a parent, isn’t sure he’ll ever be one, but he loves Christopher like his own, and the idea of losing him for good is more than enough to bring him to his knees.

 But Christopher is alive. He’d made it out of the tsunami despite Buck’s hubris, and is happily watching cartoons in the living room. 

The mental reminder is enough to stop Buck from vomiting on Eddie’s shoes, at least. 

“You saved him. That’s how he remembers it.” Eddie pauses, like he’s trying to let the weight of his words sink through Buck’s thick skull. And it’s not like Buck doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to stop seeing every moment of that horrible day on repeat every time he closes his eyes. There’s not much he wouldn’t do to stop the sinking pit of guilt in his stomach, or the squirming sense of self-loathing when he comes close to meeting Eddie’s gaze. But he can’t. The fact that Christopher made it out alive doesn’t make up for Buck’s mistake, and Eddie knows that. Buck had read the blame in his eyes before Christopher showed up at the hospital, seen the way his entire body had shifted away from Buck and into tight, tense lines that spoke of a strong desire to punch him in the face -- at the least. 

It had hurt, torn open whatever parts of him weren’t already bleeding with Christopher’s loss, and Buck couldn’t forget it, so this entire conversation felt almost dreamlike, a fantasy that Buck isn’t sure he can trust, no matter how much he’d like to. 

“And now it’s turn to do the same for you,” Eddie continues, oblivious to Buck’s internal conflict. 

And God, Buck wants that. He wants to put the entire disaster behind him, ignore all of the ways he’d fucked up and cling to the second chance Eddie seems to be offering without talking about it -- but Buck’s played that game before. He knows how it always ends. Bottling difficult things never works for long, and the resulting explosion is usually worse than whatever the actual problem was. 

So Buck trails Eddie into his living room, staying just a step behind, and shakes his head when he feels himself become the focus on that intense gaze once again. “I was -- I was supposed to watch out for him,” he tries again, stumbling over the words he doesn’t really want to say. Buck doesn’t do shy or shrinking; his entire life has been about taking up space, being unapologetically himself, but this is different, somehow. This is Eddie, whose opinion has meant too damn much to Buck since the first day they locked eyes at the station, who’s such an integral part of Buck’s life and happiness that the idea of losing him sucks the air from Buck’s lungs. This matters, in a way that nothing but firefighting and Maddie ever had, and Buck won’t screw it up again. He can’t. 

“And what, you think you failed?” 

Damn it, did Eddie have to sound so nonchalant about this? Of course Buck failed! Christopher had been missing for six fucking hours -- no matter how that equation’s set up, the answer is still the same. 

“Buck, I’ve failed that kid more times than I care to count, and I’m his father.”

The words are layered in empathy, in a sense of understanding, that makes something constrict tightly in Buck’s chest. Eddie shouldn’t be comparing Buck’s failure to the trials of being an actual parent -- the two aren’t even remotely close. Christopher has always been safe, happy, and cared for with his father, and Buck knows it because he’s seen it. He’s seen Eddie fight for his son to have the best education, the best childcare, the best of everything. He’s seen Eddie cut himself off from dating on the off chance Christopher would get hurt, seen him leave his own home and family in order for Christopher to be closer to his. There’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for the boy, and knows that Eddie’s never really failed his son. Not when it counted. So he can’t help the short, instinctive shake of his head at the reassurance, because it’s just not true. 

“But I love him enough to never stop trying, and I know you do, too.”

Unnamed emotion clogs Buck’s throat, and he glances down at the floor, swallowing hard. It’s been hard to play the tough, cool guy the last several months, so Eddie’s already seen him as weak and vulnerable as Buck can get -- career-ending injuries, a lack of mobility, and obvious depression hadn’t done great things for his rep around the 118, not that Buck had particularly cared at the time. Eddie’d been around the most, though, only slightly less often than Maddie, and had seen it all. So it should be easy to admit to loving Christopher, to caring more about his best friend’s son than he cared about anyone outside of Maddie and the 118 squad. 

It isn’t. 

Buck doesn’t get a chance to say anything, which is probably a blessing. One of Eddie’s large, work-roughened hands claps his shoulder, and warmth bleeds through the thin cotton of Buck’s t-shirt and sends a thrill down his spine. He still doesn’t manage to meet the eyes waiting on him until he hears his name, the single syllable infused with an order that Buck can’t quite ignore. 

But once he gives in, Buck’s immediately lost to the intensity of Eddie’s familiar dark gaze. He’s so close, now, and the heat his body throws off is slowly seeping into the icy chasm in Buck’s chest. Maybe, he realizes, he can trust this -- trust Eddie. Because no matter what has gone on between them, no matter how much of an ass Buck has been, there’s never been any reason to doubt Eddie’s sincerity; and there’s no way he’d so cruel as to dangle forgiveness and understanding in front of Buck only to yank it away at the last minute. 

“There is nobody,” Eddie begins firmly, and the open honesty in his face makes Buck shiver. Paired with the soft tapping of his thumb against the exposed skin of Buck’s collarbone, it would be all too easy for Buck to sway into the broad chest in front of him and know that Eddie would catch him. “ -- in this world that I trust with my son more than you.” 

It’s the last thing he expects to hear, and Buck blinks rapidly at Eddie, trying to understand how it could possibly be true after the previous day’s terror -- but there’s no hesitation in Eddie’s stance, no hint of uncertainty or the blame Buck knows he caught yesterday at the hospital. Buck swallows again, the sound of his throat working audible in the sudden quiet. Thanks and emotional confessions jam in his mouth until he can’t say anything, and Eddie doesn’t give him a chance before he’s squeezing Buck’s shoulder and dropping the point of contact to go say goodbye to Christopher in the living room. 

Though his skin is cold where Eddie’s touch lingered, Buck’s grateful for the reprieve. He turns his head and wipes at damp eyes, trying to regain some of the composure he’s lost. Eddie is too good at stripping down every defense, at seeing past all of his walls and leaving Buck open and vulnerable. It’s why he was the only one who could cajole Buck into going to PT after his last surgery, when things were looking hopeless, why he alone could drag Buck out of bed when even Bobby and Athena got shown the door -- hell, Eddie had even wound up with a fucking spare key to the apartment when Maddy didn’t even have one. And Buck is tired of being weak and vulnerable, of needing constant reassurance that he’s wanted and forgiven. This broken-down, over-emotional man he’s become isn’t who Evan Buckley is, and Buck suddenly needs to make that really damn clear to Eddie. 

But Eddie’s already on his way out the door with a few teasing comments about staying in-land, so Buck lets him go with a chuckle that feels natural, even if the circumstances don’t. He pivots on his good leg to join Christopher in front of the television, only to stop short when Eddie pops his head back in the door. 

“Thank you,” he says, in that same voice that’s sent chills down Buck’s spine at least twice that morning. “For not giving up.” And Eddie’s gone before Buck can summon any sort of response beyond the frustrated yearning that builds in the pit of his stomach when he vanishes out of the doorframe. Buck stares after him helplessly -- and god damn it, it’s not fair that Eddie can be so damned perfect when Buck is still reeling. He’s had months to come to terms with the fact that Eddie is ridiculously good-looking; and it’s never been a big deal that he likes to watch him work out, once in a while. So does pretty much everyone at the station. But this want, this desperation for Eddie’s approval, for his care and closeness -- that’s not normal. That’s not straight. And yeah, okay, maybe Buck’s had a few hints that he could be into guys before, maybe he’s considered and discarded the idea a few times over the years, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been so all-consuming, so impossible to ignore. It’s never been so terrifying. Not because Eddie’s a guy; Buck could care less about that. But Eddie is Buck’s best friend. Hell, outside of the others at the 118, Eddie’s his only friend. The rest have all disappeared, lost in the gaping chasm that separates first responders from civilians who could never understand the pull of the job, no matter how dangerous it might be. And then, of course, there’s Christopher -- the kid who’s still sitting in the living room in front of the TV, patiently waiting for Buck to get his shit together and join him. 

Right. Crisis later. Babysitting now. 

He can do this, one step at a time. Eddie’s not mad at him, and if he says that Chris isn’t either, then Buck can take him at his word. Buck drags in a slow breath, straightens his shoulders, and goes to join the child on the couch with a genuine, if small, smile.

“Hey, buddy …” 

****** 

They spend the day in the apartment, this time. Buck wants to say that it’s because they deserve a lazy day after previous one’s mess, but really, there’s a large part of him that’s afraid to set foot outside with Christopher, no matter how slim the chance of a second natural disaster. So they spend hours on the floor of the living room building increasingly complex structures with Legos and order that pizza Eddie prescribed and devour the entire thing --  if Buck eats a little more than he normally would, it definitely isn’t because Eddie told him to. It’s light and uncomplicated, just easy camaraderie that Buck never expected himself capable of finding with anyone, let alone a little kid, and the ease of it all is enough to allow some of his anxiety to bleed away. For the first time in the last thirty-six hours, Buck is truly able to relax. 

Christopher’s energy starts to wane after dinner, so Buck takes the initiative to put in one of the movies shoved in the bag Eddie packed for him. They end up in a pile of blankets and cushions on the floor -- Buck’s leg is stiff and sore after yesterday’s exertions, and Christopher hasn’t said anything, but he’s moving a lot more slowly than usual, and taking extra care when he does, so Buck guesses that he’s in some pain, too. Cerebral Palsy isn’t something he knows a whole lot about, but a lack of muscle tone is pretty obvious, and clinging to poles and other floating refuse during the tsunami had to have taken a toll on his little body. Not that Christopher had ever complained -- and that, right there, is yet another reason for Buck to be in awe of what that child is capable of. 

“Buck?” 

The small voice interrupts whatever animated crap is on the screen, and Buck glances down at Chris in askance. From this angle, all he can see is blonde curls; Chris has his cheek pressed against Buck’s chest, and is curled up beneath one arm. The warm weight against his body has Buck half asleep himself, but he rouses enough to ask, “Yeah?” 

“You didn’t lose me.” The simple, sleepy words make Buck’s heart seize, and he stares down at the top of Christopher’s head, trying to form words with numb lips. “I heard you tell Daddy that you did, but you didn’t.” Buck is struck speechless. He freezes, and the silence in the room seems a condemnation of his inability to speak, but Christopher doesn’t seem to mind. He presses on, unconcerned. “You found me, and I kept swimming, just like Dory, and I found you and Daddy. And I’m safe, and you’re safe, and we don’t need to be scared anymore.”  The matter-of-fact, blunt sentiment is hard for Buck to swallow, but he runs a hand over Christopher’s disheveled curls and down his back, anyway.

“I’m sorry you had to be scared at all, buddy,” he says honestly, and manages to keep his voice level and calm, despite the uncertainty he feels. “But you’re right. You’re safe now, and that’s what matters.” It seems like the most natural thing in the world to drop a casual kiss to the crown of blonde hair, and Buck doesn’t allow himself to second-guess the impulse when it’s done. “Come on, kid, you’re falling asleep. Let’s get you up to bed, huh? Your dad won’t be here for another few hours, and I think we both deserve a nap.” It’s not his most graceful or subtle subject change, but Chris is young enough not to notice -- or tactful enough to let it go, Buck’s honestly not sure which. 

Mock complaints and grumblings get tossed around, but Christopher clings to Buck’s neck as he carries him up the stairs and helps him settle into the bed with a minimum amount of fuss. They lay on the mattress together for half an hour, until Christopher’s breathing is slow and even, and there’s no hint of wakefulness on his young face. Buck knows better than to ruin his progress with sleeping during the day; that’s a one-way ticket back to the land of depression and hopelessness, and he refuses to fall back into bad habits. Instead, he slides from the bed, careful not to jolt the other occupant, and heads downstairs. He hadn’t had a chance to do his stretches and exercises from physical therapy that day, yet, and he knows he needs to -- firefighter or no, he’s not losing any mobility. The stretches have the added bonus of requiring all of his attention and focus, so his mind won’t wander to any dark places. Or any Eddie-shaped places, which Buck is pretty sure he should avoid, too. 

So that’s how Eddie finds Buck an hour or so later, sweat-soaked and lying, arms and legs akimbo, on the living room floor. He hadn’t heard a knock, or even the door opening, over the pounding of his own heart, and Buck flails upright into a sitting position when he hears the familiar chuckle from the entryway. 

“Only you would spend an entire day fighting a tsunami and still feel like you need to work out the next day,” Eddie says lightly as he enters the room, dressed in the same casual outfit from this morning. There’s a cut above his eye that hadn’t been there before, and Buck knows him well enough to read the fatigue in the set of his shoulders and the lines around his mouth. He recognizes that look from a hundred rough shifts, and can imagine what Eddie’s seen today on clean-up duty from the tsunami. He shudders, then carefully picks himself up off the ground and leads his guest into the kitchen to grab them both a beer without asking if Eddie wants one.

“Can’t slack off on PT,” Buck explains as they both settle down at the tiny kitchen table. “I may not be a firefighter anymore, but I’m not going to get stuck working behind a desk somewhere.” He can’t quite look directly at Eddie, but it’s easier now than it had been this morning to try. The sucking pit of desolation in his chest is gone, replaced by a stupid, schoolgirl flutter of nerves in his gut when they stand too close, and Buck doesn’t really know what to do with that -- but it’s easier than waiting to hear if Eddie’s decided to close him out of his and Christopher’s life for good. 

“You’re not going to end up behind a desk,” Eddie says firmly. There’s a frown forming between his brows, and something distinctly unhappy in the way he’s staring at Buck. Before the latter has a chance to question it, Eddie stands up and grabs both bottles of beer from the table. Without a word, he shoves both of them back in the fridge, then turns to face Buck again with his chin raised in challenge. “Unless you keep drinking your breakfast, lunch, and dinner, that is. Did you even eat today?” 

Buck’s spine stiffens defensively. “Chris ate lunch and dinner,” he says carefully. There’s good reason for Eddie to doubt that Buck’s been taking good care of his son, after all, even if this morning it had seemed they were passed it. “And I wouldn’t drink when I was watching him, Eddie.” 

A complicated series of emotions flickers over Eddie’s face, but it’s hidden behind one large hand before Buck can even try to translate it. “I didn’t ask if Christopher had eaten,” he says quietly, and drags his hand down his face to rest on the table directly in front of Buck. The movement has him leaning down, leaving them so close that their faces mere inches from each other. Immediately, the speed of Buck’s heartbeat kicks up a notch, and he curses himself for reacting so inappropriately to mere proximity. “I told you this morning, man -- I trust you with my son. I know you wouldn’t drink while you were watching him, or forget to feed him, just like I know you never gave up on him yesterday.” 

Buck chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then deliberately leans back in his chair, trying to put some space between them before he answers. “Then what’s up with the third degree?” he demands, trying for some semblance of his usual bravado. “If you really thought I was taking good care of Christopher, why are you --”

“Because Christopher isn’t the only person I care about, Buck,” Eddie cuts in sharply. Frustration emanates from him in waves, and Buck wants to offer reassurance, but he’s too busy trying not to read too far into those words to manage it. Eddie cares about him. He’s known that for months -- caring isn’t the same as wanting to be with someone romantically. The two of them are friends. Best friends. And Buck needs to get ahold of himself before he says or does something to ruin that. 

“What --” 

“Don’t sit there and act like you don’t know what I mean!” Eddie shoves away from the table and paces in a circle around the table, never taking his eyes off of Buck as he does so. Unlike other moments when Eddie looks at him, Buck finds he doesn’t like this sort of scrutiny. It leaves him feeling like all of his weakest, most fragile parts have been put on display, and Buck’s never been good at admitting to his own problems. “It was bad enough when you were laid up from surgery, but now you’re either drinking or sleeping, or pushing yourself way too hard in PT. You’ve been losing weight for weeks, and it’s not healthy, Buck! I’m worried about you!”

Silence reigns in the kitchen for a long moment as Buck tamps down hard on the impulse to bellow that he’s fine, and no one asked Eddie to worry about him -- that’s the response of a scared man-child, not the person that Buck is trying to be. And truthfully, it’s nice to know that someone’s looking out for him. The others at the 118 and Maddy try, Buck knows, but they’re easy to reassure. A grin here, a cock-sure comment about his prowess there, a playful slug to the shoulder, and almost everyone sees him as the same old Buck who’d gotten into the fire engine the night of the bombings. 

Eddie’s not that easy to fob off, and as much as it makes Buck feel uncomfortable, it makes him feel seen. 

“I’m okay, Eddie,” he says instead, and lifts his chin to hold the skeptical gaze aimed at him. “I am, really.” The words feel honest, for the first time in quite a while, and Buck even manages a genuine smile. “You were right, when you dropped Chris off yesterday. Hanging out with him -- it was what I needed.” Buck shakes his head in remembered awe of the little boy and his strength. Even stranded in rushing water higher than his head, clinging to a pole for dear life, Christopher had been braver than Buck ever could be, and his courage and grace under pressure had shown Buck exactly how much work he had to do to deserve any part of the life he felt entitled to. “You and him -- even with everything yesterday -- you guys made me realize I needed to do something different, or I was going to end up somewhere I never wanted to be.” His smile thins, slightly, and Buck reaches out to touch one of the arms crossed over Eddie’s chest. “Even if I’m still not sure how you forgave me so easily, after what I did.” 

An exasperated huff escapes Eddie’s mouth, and gives the impression that if this were a cartoon, he’d be tossing his hands in the air. “Buck, there was never anything to forgive!” he says, voice pitched just low enough that it wouldn’t wake Christopher. “You got stuck in a tsunami. I know you’ve got an ego, but you can’t really take credit for a natural disaster. And Christopher is fine!” 

“But he almost wasn’t!” Buck interjects, tired of being the rational one in the room. If Eddie seriously wants to have this conversation, then he’s going to have to face the truth, too. “Give me a fucking break, Eddie -- those two mintues between me telling you I’d lost him and that woman showing up with Chris in her arms? You did blame me. You looked at me, and that’s all I could see, okay? You did blame me. And you were right. I messed up. I was supposed to look out for your son, and I failed, and it’s okay for you to blame me for it.” 

God, Buck’s tired. He hasn’t been until this moment, but it’s like this argument and facing these awful truths have sapped every last bit of energy from his veins, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be up for arguing with Eddie in his kitchen. He leans forward on his elbows over the table an exhales gustily, then lifts his chin again, determined to catch the moment when Eddie finally admits the truth to himself. 

But instead of the realization Buck has been expecting, Eddie’s face is only showing that same frustration. They freeze like that for a moment, Buck leaning against the table and trying hard to hold himself together, Eddie staring down at him from his position against the wall of the kitchen, arms folded over his chest, that guilt-laden frustration obvious in his expression. 

Then, faster than Buck can track, Eddie’s standing in front of his chair, grabbing his elbows and pulling him to his feet. It’s a gentle yank, and Buck could have ignored it if he chose, but he’s shocked enough by Eddie’s closeness that he goes along with it. They end up toe-to-toe, close enough that Buck can feel warm breath on his cheek, and there’s nowhere to look that doesn’t end with him staring back into Eddie’s dark eyes. 

“Look at me now,” Eddie tells him quietly, and Buck has to quell a shiver as two solid hands land on both of his shoulders, squeezing with just a little too much pressure to be truly comfortable. “I want you to stand here, and look straight at me while I tell you this: I do not blame you for what happened yesterday. I’m grateful to you for not giving up on him, okay? I know you love him, and I can’t even tell you how relieved I am that he has you in his corner.”

This feels like the conversation they should have had this morning, when more was being left unsaid that wasn’t, and this time, Buck isn’t going to pretend. “I do love him,” he admits, still looking straight into Eddie’s face. Vulnerability is hard, but it would be harder to keep pretending -- and Buck’s so damn tired of pretending. “And I, uh … I believe you.” Because there’s no denying reality, not when it’s quite literally staring him in the face. No matter what he saw, or thought he saw, yesterday, Eddie really doesn’t blame Buck for losing Christopher. They’re still solid, still good, and Buck’s not losing anyone. 

Relief swamps him as hard as any of the waves from the day before, even though Buck had thought he’d stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop that morning. Apparently, anxiety isn’t that easy to get rid of, even when it’s not screaming in the back of his head. He shifts to take a step back, to carry himself out of Eddie’s gravitational pull, before he ends up falling into his chest or something equally embarrassing, but Eddie’s grip just tightens on his shoulders, not allowing Buck to go anywhere. 

A second passes, two, and Eddie leans in a little closer, until they’re sharing the same breath. Buck swallows convulsively, telling himself over and over that he’s misreading the situation, that this can’t be what it feels like, but he can’t stop his eyes drifting down Eddie’s face to catch stubbornly on his mouth.  Full lips quirk up in a smirk, and heat rushes to pool in Buck’s belly. He doesn’t know what this moment is or how they got here, doesn’t know where they’re going next, but that smirk tells him everything that he needs to know: Eddie knows what Buck wants. Knows how he feels. Probably has for a while. 

And he hasn’t gone anywhere.

“I keep waiting for you to figure it out,” Eddie says in a low voice, and Buck’s eyelashes flutter before he can remind himself that he wants to be wholly present in this moment and doesn’t want to miss a damn thing. “I don’t go around telling everyone I meet that I trust them with my son’s life, Buck. Outside of my family, you’re it, do you get that?” It’s Eddie’s turn to swallow, and Buck tracks the movement of his throat with wide eyes. “You’re it.”

There’s a different meaning to the words the second time Eddie says them, and Buck feels like a kid at the eye doctor, putting glasses on for the first time. When he looks back at every interaction he’s had with Eddie since the bombs, he can see the same want reflected in Eddie’s face that has stared back at him in the mirror every day. When he runs his eyes over Eddie’s expression, he can read the same nervous hope, the same uncertainty, beneath his confident exterior. 

And this time, when Eddie leans further into his space, Buck leans back. 

Their lips bump together, almost incidentally, a soft kiss that’s more of a test than it is a true embrace. Buck’s heart leaps, and the anxious flutter in his stomach is back as he tips his head to correct the angle. The second time their lips meet, it’s better -- Eddie lets out a soft, surprised huff of air, and Buck takes advantage, pulling him closer with impatient hands at the belt loops of his jeans. He’s not thinking anymore, stopped sometime around when Eddie’s fingers tightened around his shoulders, and it feels so good to lose himself, to trust that Eddie will catch him as he falls. 

“You could’ve just said,” Buck mutters against Eddie’s lips, his hands roaming over the forearms revealed by the style of his button-up shirt. “I thought I was going crazy.” He wants to be annoyed that Eddie’s known all this time and waited for Buck to make the first move, but he can’t quite work up to it. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he needed the chance to wrap his head around this new truth about himself, and if Eddie had made a move before he was ready, Buck knows he wouldn’t have reacted well. 

“I’m pretty sure your sanity has been in question for way longer than I’ve been in LA,” Eddie shoots back with another teasing smirk. At some point, his hands slid from Buck’s shoulders to the planes of his back, and Buck’s not ashamed to admit that he pushes back into the touch, arching his spine like a cat seeking attention. He rolls his eyes at the joke and presses his face into Eddie’s neck, taking a long, slow breath to steady himself. The last two days -- hell, the last several weeks -- have been a riot of emotion that he’s still trying to sort, and as happy as he is in this moment, Buck knows that there’s still a lot for he and Eddie to talk about and work through. And Buck’s life is still a shambles, no matter how unexpectedly good his personal life has become. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Eddie tells him, his arms snug around Buck’s waist, holding him comfortably against his chest. “The world is complicated, Buck, but you and me? That doesn’t have to be. We can figure it out as we go.” A steady hand smooths over Buck’s spine, and he relaxes incrementally. It sounds too good to be true, but Buck has no intention of giving this up now that he’s got it. And Eddie’s gone to great lengths to make sure Buck knows that he can be trusted when he says something, today -- it wouldn’t make any sense to stop now. 

Buck lifts his head and smiles at Eddie with an echo of his old, rakish grin. “You’re going to have to do better than one kiss if you want me to stop thinking,” he says daringly, throwing caution to the wind and jumping headfirst into the unknown. Overthinking and panicking isn’t who Buck is, and he’s not going to let recent events change him. He’s stronger than circumstances, and Evan Buckley is more than a job title or a patient ID bracelet. 

He’s a fighter, and this time, all he wants to fight for is happiness for him, Eddie, and Christopher.

“Hmm, that sounds like a challenge,” Eddie observes, head cocked to one side in a faux-thoughtful expression. “I guess I don’t have much choice but to try harder then, do I?” 

Buck lets his satisfaction show on his face as he meets Eddie in another kiss. As in everything, practice makes perfect; this time, his knees get weak embarrassingly quickly, and he finds himself with his arms tossed around Eddie’s neck to keep his balance. He’s still smiling as they trade kisses back and forth, unable to quell the overwhelming contentment swelling in his chest. Eddie’s flushed and breathing hard, too, though, so Buck doesn’t waste a moment on embarrassment. They both want this; there’s no reason to start overthinking now. 

“Da-aad!” The whine from behind them stops the kiss in its tracks as both men take a hurried step back and spin to face the doorway. Christopher is leaning heavily on his crutches just past the arch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and hair mussed from sleep, and staring at them crankily. “Buck’s s’posed to be taking a nap with me. You can kiss him when we wake up.”

Eddie and Buck glance at each other, and the bubble of tension - romantic and otherwise - surrounding them bursts with a synchronous peal of laughter. Christopher gives them an unimpressed look, and Eddie recovers first, stifling another chuckle to tell him, “Sorry, buddy. But everyone’s awake now, right? So maybe we can watch a movie or something, and we can both spend some time with Buck before we have to go home.” He shoots a sidelong glance Buck’s way, like he needs permission or something stupid to talk about them with his son, or to stay longer. Like Buck is going to complain about getting more time with them. 

“What you think, Chris? Should we let your dad watch the rest of Hotel Transylvania with us?” Buck asks, and reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand -- just in case he’d gotten some ridiculous idea that this thing between them was going to be a secret. 

Christopher isn’t the kind of kid who’s grumpy for long, even right after a nap, so he beams at them and nods excitedly. “We have to start over, though,” he says seriously. “Daddy hasn’t seen the beginning, and he might get confused.” 

Buck nods his agreement, and Eddie just laughs. He tosses his free hand over Chris’s shoulders, and the three of them start toward the living room together, as a unit. As they settle together on the couch with tangled limbs and shared quips and laughter, Buck takes a second to breathe in the reality of this moment. He’s truly, incandescently happy, and he wants to take the memory and hold onto it forever -- through whatever job-related heartbreak and medical emergency comes next.

Because now, Buck’s got Eddie, and he’s got Christopher, and that’s more than enough to make him want to keep fighting. 

[spotsandsocks]

Here's an amazing commission by the phenomenally talented @macarenaandrad3 for my 911/dragonriders AU fic. Its a story about how Eddie (and Christopher) meet Buck and he helps him to make a new life and move through his grief after suffering a terrible loss.

I love the art so much and it’s not like I can share it with anyone I actually know so onto Tumblr it goes.

To Fly the Skies Read on AO3

60K Rated E

Its long with more plot than I planned and it’s niche I know, but I’m really proud of the story. I thought this would be just for me but turns out there's a quite a few other people out there who want to read about fictional versions of fictional men in a world where dragons talk and fly the skies.

@macarenaandrad3

[piningeddiediaz]

(they won’t hurt you anymore) you can let them go

buddie | 4k | read on ao3 

“So, Eddie,” his mother says, making Eddie’s back shoot up rigidly, “it was very nice of you to come to pick Evan up.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches and Buck is reaching out to put a hand on his thigh before he even knows it. He feels Eddie relax.

“No trouble at all, ma’am,” Eddie says in his best treating-annoying-victims-voice. “It’s not a hardship to make sure he comes home to me in one piece.”

~

or, eddie diaz drinks his 'i hate my in-laws' juice for 4k words

You can let it go  You can throw a party full of everyone you know  You can start a family who will always show you love  You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

“Hey Bu -- Evan,” Chim says, breaking Buck out of the blank stare he was giving his parents as they made small talk with Maddie and completely ignored the fact that Buck was even there. Honestly, the deja vu would be pretty intense if he was not already anticipating this exact scenario. “Your phone has been vibrating off the table, dude.” Buck leaps to his feet, grateful for the distraction -- which he suspects was intentional on Chimney’s part -- making a beeline for where he had left his phone to charge on the kitchen aisle.

“Evan,” Maddie says softly, giving him a pleading look, “we said no phones tonight.” Buck tries to bite back his groan. It is clear that Maddie is hating this parental reunion just as much as Buck is. After all, when the conversation isn’t a riveting discussion of every bad decision Buck has ever made in his life, it’s a discussion of Maddie’s bad choices. They are both Margaret and Phillip Buckley’s favourite topic of discussion, after all. And yet, despite all that, Buck does not understand why Maddie is so set on these dinners going well. Maybe she has convinced herself that a couple of dinners together will bridge 29 years of isolation. But Buck knows they have had many dinners like this, silent and awkward, and all they have done is make the gap larger. Buck knows this, he suspects Chimney understands this too, but Maddie is so hopeful, and Buck doesn’t have the heart to tell her this isn’t something she can protect him from, even if she has spent her entire life trying. And well, Maddie is only just beginning to come back to herself, and he understands repairing their relationship with their parents is fundamental to Maddie’s own relationship with Jee-Yun. He understands all that, really. It’s just - he already spent the last couple of months doing just that. It hasn’t worked out. It isn’t like he has told Maddie about that, though.

“It’s Eddie,” Chimney chimes helpfully. Buck looks at Maddie again, not really saying anything but giving her a single, desperate look. He knows immediately that the battle is already won. The Diaz boys’ name is a magic wand - one mention and nothing else in the world matters to Buck. Buck has long since accepted that, and Maddie has too. Maddie nods, and with her begrudging approval Buck crosses the distance between the living room and kitchen in three long slides, bringing the phone to his ears, charger and all.

“Hey,” Eddie says, and just his voice is enough to make some of the tension ease out of Buck’s body. “Thought you might need some rescuing around about now.” Buck can’t help the smile that graces his lips. The kitchen is close enough to where everyone else is sitting some feet away to discount any way of getting privacy, so he simply turns his back to everyone’s watchful eyes -- his parent’s thinly veiled curiosity and Maddie and Chim’s smirks as if they know exactly what is going on -- and decides if he has Eddie on the phone now there is no way he’s hanging up without a conversation. The Buckleys have all drained his energy; maybe the Diazes will revive it.

“My knight in shining armour,” Buck teases, disconnecting the phone from the socket and holding it to his ear with his shoulders as he busies himself with drying the dishes Chim had left abandoned to let Buck talk to Eddie in a semi-private setting. Eddie scoffs, “more like blue collar.” Buck grins, “what can I say,” he says slowly, “maybe I just like a man in uniform.” He hears Chim suddenly cough, all the confirmation he needs to know everyone is listening in to his conversation despite the steady stream of chatter Albert seems to have going on to distract everyone. Distantly, he thinks this isn’t a particularly platonic conversation to have with your straight best friend, except, well, Buck has known and accepted for a while now that he has been in love with Eddie for a long time -- definitely since Eddie had grounded his wandering thoughts with a warm hand on his shoulder and told him there is no one in the world he trusts more with his son, possibly since the day he had followed Eddie’s retreating back into a car with a bomb and came out of it with a promise to do exactly that forever - watch Eddie’s back as a true partner would. Except Evan Buckley does not do anything by halves, and so it tracks that he decided to have Eddie’s back both at work and in life. A partner, in every sense of the word. And recently - especially since the shooting, after Eddie broke it off with Ana for a mysterious reason he refuses to talk about, and Buck broke it off with Taylor after admitting to himself he is too in love with his best friend for it to work out - it seems like Eddie is just as keen to blur the lines of friendship that makes Buck think his previous assessment of Eddie and ‘straight’ may need reworking. He wonders if he will ever be brave enough to question it. But seeing Eddie’s warm blood stain the grey asphalt of the street, feeling it on his face and tasting it on his tongue? Well, he’s stopped denying it since then. Eddie Diaz is it for him, and trying to pretend otherwise is nothing but an insult to them all.

On the other side of the phone, Eddie snorts, “yeah man, I kinda figured with how much you stare at yourself in your uniform.” I stare at you more, Buck thinks. Instead, he says “did you just call to bully me?”

“No, I called to see if you’re doing okay.”

“So far, but the night is still young,” Buck says warily. Eddie sighs, “come over afterwards?”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes out, as if it would ever be a question, “yeah, okay.”

“Great,” Eddie says, and Buck can hear the smile on his voice, “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Buck smiles, turning around to cross the short space to the living room, then frowns, “wait, no, don’t wait up for me! I don’t know how late I’m gonna be!”

Eddie just laughs quietly, “bye, Buck.”

read the rest on ao3

[whattabuck]

I had some time these last two days and so it was time for me to begin with the Buddie fic recs. This is the first one, more to come in the future (don't know when, honestly, I usually organize my fics folder when I have time/when I feel like doing it). Enjoy 💚

PS: I usually tag the authors, but sometimes I forget to do it, I'm sorry but I'm a bit chaotic.

Don’t Want no Other Shade of Blue But You [Words: 11050] by @fangkinkdiaz

This is an entire series, complete, and I suggest to read it all because it’s perfect.

“You can’t go see your son like this.”

That gives Buck pause. “He’s not—he’s not my son.”

“Isn’t he, though?” she says.

And part of Buck wants to argue, but a bigger part of him thinks, isn’t he, though? Not by blood, sure, or legally, but in all the ways that matter, Christopher is as good as his son.

Hungry For Your Love [Words: 1847] by @evcndiaz

I'm so in love with this one. It makes me laugh every single time I read it. Also the characters are so perfectly portraited it's like reading the script of an episode.

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad?" or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

Habits [Words: 4926]

I read this over and over again. I loved it so much it became a comfort fic for me.

Buck's not sure what's going on when Eddie starts kissing him on the head after a rough call, only now it's A Thing, and it's a thing Buck would very much like to continue if he knew what it meant. 

(or another Buddie fic where everyone knows except Buck.)

Fire on Fire [Words: 6668]

Absolutely one of my favourites. It's very well written.

"You’re sleeping with him.”

“I’m not—” Eddie rolls his eyes and corrects himself halfway through. “I’m not sleeping with him like that, okay?”

Sophia looks at him for a long moment as her gaze turns from teasing to thoughtful.

“But you want to be. Right?”

[Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.]

To Build a Home we deconstruct our rituals [Words: 44248]

I really enjoyed this fic. More like a journey. I loved the way Eddie has been portraited.

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak:

Marry Buck.