#El Paso Home Cleaning

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Dryer Fire Safety Tips

Hi, I’m Nathan Carter. I am a home safety professional in El Paso, TX, dedicated to ensuring safe and efficient living spaces by eliminating dryer vent hazards. In my free time, I enjoy fishing, barbecuing, and exploring the outdoors.

[burnthatbridge]

8x01 misery missing scene

post the sad zoom birthday party also on ao3 if you prefer

They stick around long enough to help clear up. 

The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 

“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 

“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.

Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 

“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 

“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 

Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 

Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 

Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 

At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 

Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 

Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 

They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  

“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.

Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 

“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.

And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”

“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 

Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 

Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 

Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.

He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 

Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.

The agony in his gaze is palpable.

Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 

“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 

“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 

“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”

“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“

“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 

Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.

Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”

“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”

“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”

“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”

“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”

“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.

He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 

“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”

“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.

As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

[allbark-no-bite]

cowboy up.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: Jake’s a tease. and a cowboy. it makes your friends sick

warnings: really none i think, just talk of and allusions to sex

authors note: very loosely based off of “Dirty Looks” by Lainey Wilson. it got me into the mood to write a little something. briefly mentioned that reader is Ice’s daughter

————————————————————————

"Well hello, mi cowboy."

It's the deliciously sensual roll of the endearment off of your tongue that has Jake hooking two fingers through the loop of your jeans and tugging you firmly into his side as he approaches the bar. It starts up an engine-like rumble in his chest that travels up his throat and catches, vibrating while he bows down to kiss you. Just the sight of your sweet smile has the weariness of the day melting off of him.

El cowboy, you mother had appraised with great enthuse the first time you had brought Jake home, and he greeted her with his smooth as honey southern drawl. Being Latino and having grown up just along the border in El Paso, her English was still licked with Spanish flare and it made everything she said sound rivetingly amorous. Even after three years of dating, she still widely referred to him as the cowboy—your cowboy.

"Hey, darlin'. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. There were some mechanical issues with my plane and I couldn't get away," he apologizes, hence the grease stains on his hands. He had probably only taken the time to change into a fresh set of clothes before leaving base and driving straight to the Hard Deck.

You only hum, tipping your head up to steal a second kiss before he straightens. "Glad you're here now."

Jake has to stop himself from chasing your lips for a third. Penny's warned him about getting too frisky at the bar. It's not his fault when you taste like strawberry margaritas and are wearing those jeans that you know drive him crazy.

But when he looks over his shoulder, Penny's sliding him an ice cold beer from across the bar. "This one's on the house, Seresin." The gleam shining in her eyes tells him that she's caught the two of you but is going to let it slide this time.

When he opens his mouth to argue, already digging his wallet out of his pocket, she shakes her head. "Looks like you had a long day. Enjoy the beer."

"Really, Pen, I—"

Penny's back is already turned as she heads to the other side of the bar to serving an incoming crowd of aviators.

Jake glances down to his well worn boots while his hand goes to his jaw to feel at the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. Does he really look that worn out? He has to resist the urge to smell himself.

He looks back to you, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for showing up like this. Here he is, covered in sweat and engine grease, while his own girlfriend is standing next to him, looking way out of his league. Even the Dagger Squad looks fresh and put together. It would have been hard to guess that they had all been out sweating on the tarmac together earlier in the day.

"I probably should have cleaned up," he admits, running a hand over the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He's wondering if he can at least escape to the bathroom for a minute to stick his head under the sink.

What Jake doesn't know is that you might actually kill him if he does that. There's something about the combination of his off-duty khakis and dusty boots that is making your heart flutter. The tousle of his blonde hair after a long day and ruddy flush of his already tan cheeks give off the impression that he's more than just a pretty face. He looks hard working and very, very capable.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?" he hums, having been eyeing the bathrooms, contemplating even just splashing some water on his face.

Your heart squeezes painfully when his dazzling green eyes turn back to land on yours, eyebrows raised in question, fully attuned to whatever it is that you may need. "What baby—"

He stops mid sentence when you pull him down by the back of his neck to kiss him. This time it's a much less chaste kiss than the one you greeted him with, and he gets to really taste the strawberry margarita on your lips—a bit sweet, a little salty. The taste makes his mouth tingle and he's not sure if it's you or the tequila that's making him feel buzzed.

Jake's hand immediately slips around your waist, his large hand on your back, pressing you into him. A groan slips out of him when his fingers brush the warm skin just above the rise of your jeans.

The fact that you had purposefully chosen not to wear your khakis like himself and the rest of the crew makes Jake that much more hot and bothered. It's not that he dislikes your usual naval attire, because he doesn't. He loves how it fits you, who you become when you wear it, your signature "Frostbite" embroidered on the front—the name he gave you. It's the fact he's come in, dead on his feet from working all day, and his diamond of a girlfriend is wearing an outfit she put on just for him.

Really, Jake thinks his chest might just implode.

His free hand had been holding his beer out to the side, momentarily forgotten once you'd started kissing him. Blindly, he sets it down behind him, the glass clinking against the bar top so that he can get both of his hands on you without spilling. He prefers you, the taste of your skin anyhow.

"So damn sweet," he groans into the underside of your jaw, eyes shut as he fights the urge to say fuck it and take you home now. "Could just eat you."

You laugh, fingers gripping his blonde hair. "Is that a promise, cowboy?" Jake's teeth scrape your pulse point and your fingers tighten. His body is hot pressed flushed against you, moving as you move so that the contact never breaks.

"Baby, I'd devour you," he promises huskily into your ear. Mav has been working them to the bone for the past few weeks, and Jake has hardly had the energy to climb the front steps when he gets home, much less make it to the bedroom. To say you've both been left wanting is an understatement.

His lips press wetly to your neck. "You look good, Frosty Girl. You know how much I love those jeans..."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed as Jake sends you to that place. That place where only you and Jake exist, where the worries of the day melt away, and it smells like his cinnamon oak body wash and the hint of beer on his breath. It doesn't matter than he smells slightly of sweat and jet fuel because that's just him. That's what makes him Jake.

"Mmm, you do?" Of course he does. Jake Seresin drinks the air you breathe and worships the ground you walk on. "I think you'll like what I have on under them more."

If Jake had been twenty-one again, he'd have a raging hard on in his jeans right now. After two years of dating you, he's developed a bit of self control since then. He spent a lot of lunch breaks jacking off in the bathroom the first few months. All you had to do was rub up against him climbing out the back seat of the cockpit and he was sneaking off to take care of himself before any of the Dagger squad could see the missile sized hard on in his pants.

Jake smiles, his pearly white grin pressed into your neck. His jade green eyes peer up at you with a gleam of anticipation.

"Black?" he guesses, his nimble fingertips already dipping just past your waistband to brush across the lace he knows he's going to find.

"Uhh mm," you deny, enjoying the thrill of teasing him with your secret.

His warm breath fans across your neck. "Red?"

The corners of your mouth quirk up into a look that Jake can only describe as devilish. "I figured you deserved a treat. I know you've been—" Before you can finish, Jake is kissing you. His pink lips are cool and a bit wet from the beer he's been nursing, but his tongue is hot and slick and wet and it just feels so good.

"Jesus. Get a room, you two."

Despite the roar of blood in his ears, the buzzing in his veins, Jake recognizes the sound of Bradley's voice just a table away.

Begrudgingly pulling away from the kiss, Jake doesn't release you just yet, just moves his head to look over your shoulder. He had hardly even acknowledged the Dagger Squad when he walked in, too focused on you. And maybe that's on him.

"Sorry, Bradshaw. Didn't see you there." You can tell Jake's smirking over your shoulder, hand not so slyly cupping the curve of your ass as he reaches for his beer with the other, playing at indifference. He takes a slow swig of it, unbothered by the fact that your friends -you coworkers- are all watching. "I was busy saying hello to my unbelievably sexy girlfriend."

Without breaking eye contact with Bradley, Jake plants a filthy wet kiss to the pulse point of your neck. It's enough to make the other aviator's mustache twitch and his throat constrict with a impulsive swallow. Regardless of how they acted— always at each other’s throats— there was no longer any bad blood between the two pilots. That feud had been settled on the Uranium mission last year and was replaced by new found respect, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t seize every opportunity to ruffle the other’s feathers.

"This is a public space," Natasha reminds him, as if he were unaware of the extremely crowded bar.

Jake smirks. "Oh believe me, I'm holding back for Floyd's sake. Wouldn't want to ruin his innocence."

The weapon system officer emits a noise of protest from across the table, his cheeks flashing an embarrassed hue of red. "I've already told you, I'm not a virgin!"

You giggle into Jake's shoulder at his complait, content to bask in the temporary stronghold of your boyfriend's embrace. It's nice to get moments with him like this, away from the stress of work and without the pressure of success weighing on your shoulders.

Of course your friends knew about yours and Jake's relationship, had known since the very first date, but in nearly three years of dating, they had come to the realization that they knew very little about your relationship. Work was strictly professional for the two of you and even at the bar, the most intimate thing they'd ever seen occur was Jake greeting you with a quick kiss.

"Damn, Bagman, you walking in here, kiss Frost senseless, and now she's giggling? You're telling me that's all it takes to bring her from she-devil to—giggling?" Coyote asks from behind his pool cue, sauntering over to join the group.

Jake, his green eyes gleaming, slips his warm palm under your shirt to smooth over the exposed curve of your hip. "I can make her do a lot more than giggle, Machado."

You groan, burying your embarrassingly flushed face further into Jake's neck. Although your boyfriend may be able to play the nonchalance card, you can only take so much of their teasing.

You push away from Jake before he can start full on groping you in front of your friends. If there's one thing about Jake, he has no shame when it comes to showing you off.

"I don't giggle, Javy," you stress, choosing to ignore Jake's comment.

Fanboy, who is never far behind the other pilot, saunters over and slings an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Giggle? I've never even seen you crack a smile."

Before you can respond, Jake is sliding an impossibly large palm around to cup the back of your neck, fingers digging in to the tense muscle that he knows is there. Relax, is what that means. "Careful, she does bite." He's grinning, a smug, but knowing smirk on his face. 

"Fuck, man. I knew you were into that kinky shit," Coyote quips, and it evokes a few laughs from the Dagger squad, save for Natasha, who pretends to roll her eyes. 

Jake grins. "Damn straight."

"Easy, cowboy," you warn, your eyes narrowing at him in playful warning.

You're not necessarily embarrassed by Jake's insinuation of your sex life, the two of you were well established in your relationship and you trusted your friends too much to be embarrassed by that kind of thing. It's just that being Admiral Kazanky's daughter meant that too many people assumed you had only made it this far because of your old man or that you were sleeping through the ranks, which was far from the truth. 

You deserved to be here. And Jake knows this, which is why his thumb is still massaging at the pressure point at the base of your skull, just behind your ear. Everything about him, from the reassuring smile he directs at you to his relaxed body language is him letting you know that it's all in good fun, and no one here thinks that you don’t belong here in the slightest. 

Bradley's shaking his head as he lounges against the pool table. "I don't know what I'm going to have to tell my therapist about first, the fact that Frost calls you 'cowboy' or the fact you probably get off on that shit.”

Jake grins, toothpick bobbing in his mouth as his impish smile widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Bradshaw?”

The truth is, he does. Behind the cool and collected facade that he’s putting up, bantering back and forth with your friends while he sips his beer, he’s just the right amount of hot and bothered that he wouldn’t mind calling it a night just to go home and have his way with you. He hasn’t forgotten about the little red number you’re wearing.

Having lost the attention of the rest of the squad to the pool table during his and Rooster’s banter, Jake shifts his focus to you. Large hand coming to rest on your back, he dips down to murmur in your ear. “Think I’m about ready to turn in, kid. What do you say we get out of here?”

Your pretty face turns towards him, and you don’t miss the gleam in his green eyes. Smiling privately to yourself, you eyes reflect his knowingly. “Rooster will never let you live it down. You only just got here.” However, that doesn’t mean you can’t be coerced.

Jake hums, his lips pressing to your temple in a kiss that’s meant to hide the fact that he’s whispering— plotting— in your ear. “I’ll buy ‘em around on the way out. They won’t even notice we’re gone,” he reasons.

You smile, turning back to the game of pool as Jake leans over you before you give him. “Go on,” you finally encourage. “I’ll follow you out.”

Grinning and all too pleased with himself, Jake slips off behind you, but not before giving an affectionate pat to your ass. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him.

You wait a while before discreetly making your escape form the pool table, grabbing your things as you go. Jake’s waiting for you at the door, all too pleased to see you, as though he hadn’t just five minutes before. “Made it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they—”

“Well damn, goodbye to you guys too!” Rooster calls from across the bar. Obviously having noticed your departure, the Dagger Squad is all standing around the pool table, shaking their heads in varying levels of amused disapproval.

Payback crosses his arms. “You guys make me sick.”

Opening the door for you, Jake turns and tips his imaginary cowboy hat at them with an grin. “Sorry man. If you all will excuse me, I’ve got some riding to do.”

[heygirltimeformorning]

wrote some tooth-rotting Buddie fluff chatfic for @playinginthunderstorms & @theflatman last night and I thought yall might enjoy!

this is VERY rough chatfic, and I cleaned it up a bit, but it’s chatfic, so please don’t be harsh with me!! & enjoy.

*

Eddie moves Chris back to LA very unexpectedly three days before Christmas, which causes chaos for Buck, because obviously he had gifts for Eddie and Chris, but he’d expected to go to El Paso to Eddie’s rental house a couple days after Christmas to see the Diaz boys. Christmas itself he planned to spend with Maddie and Chimney, and he doesn’t really bother decorating his loft beyond the tree and a wreath on the front door. Maybe he’s not in the Christmas spirit this year. Maybe he doesn’t particularly want to examine why. Maybe it has to do with Eddie and Chris.

So Buck is at home, December 22, glaring at his pitiful little tree and the neatly wrapped packages, and his cell phone buzzes.

second favorite Diaz: any chance your available for an airport pickup in 3 hours and 45 mins?

And Eddie’s used the wrong form of “you’re,” and LAX three days before Christmas is genuinely one of the innermost circles of hell, but —

are you and Chris coming back to LA

And Eddie confirms, yes, he and Chris are enroute, and Buck has two thoughts: one, he’s going to have to leave soon for LAX, traffic is that bad and two, Chris and Eddie will be coming home to a house that isn’t decorated for Christmas, and that will not do.

If the sudden return of his usually indomitable Christmas spirit is tied to Eddie and Chris and their return to LA, well, Buck has decorating to do. He doesn’t have time to sit and think about his feelings. And that’s how Buck Buckley does things: all in. He’s never half-assed anything in his entire life, so he loads up every Christmas decoration he can find, takes it over to Eddie’s still-uninhabited house, and gets to work.

Buck never thought he’d be grateful for flight delays, but through the magic of Christmas and the sudden return of Buck’s Christmas spirit, Eddie and Chris’ flight is delayed long enough that Buck can actually do a decent job decorating for Christmas, including the Christmas-themed sheets he had given Eddie and Chris one year, complete with matching Christmas pajamas. He sets a plate of cookies on the counter right as his phone alarms, reminding him it’s time to head to LAX, so he does, going to get his boys. He doesn’t think about anything other than the fact that he managed to pull off kind of a Christmas miracle. He doesn’t think about the way he’d wanted to beg Eddie not to go, the way he’d wanted to beg Eddie to come back — come home every day since he left. He doesn’t think about any of that. It’s Christmas, and his boys are going to be back in LA.

But the truth is, ever since he’d found out that Eddie intended to move to El Paso, there’s been a pit in his stomach. He’d chalked it up to his own personal abandonment issues, had told himself he didn’t like change. He could admit he’d miss Eddie — he already missed Chris, and it’s normal to be sad your best friend is moving away. Even when it was for a good reason. Normal to be sad, yes. But Buck didn’t really half-ass things, and while he thinks he’s disguised it well, the truth is he’s devastated that, once again, he wasn’t enough for anyone to fight for. And he knows. He knows that Eddie will pick Chris every time — that’s how Buck wants it. Chris is (rightfully) Eddie’s priority. But it had hurt that Buck wasn’t even on the list.

LAX is a zoo. Usually, Buck would park and go in to the airport to get his boys — he has no idea if this is a permanent move, if they’re just visiting, what kind of luggage they’ll have, and he doesn’t want to put pressure on Chris to be anything other than what he was, and he’s not sure he can keep himself from crying when he sees them in the airport. Buck cries at those soldier reunion videos. He doesn’t trust himself with his very own reunion video. So he waits in the jeep, texts Eddie that he’s here, and then he watches the sliding glass doors.

Buck’s heart jumps into his throat when he sees Eddie with a luggage cart, piled high with — with suitcases. With multiple suitcases, because that means, at the very least, an extended stay, and maybe even —

He’s out of the car before he can think it through, before he can think about trotting his heart out again. This is Eddie and Chris— there is no trotting his heart out again. They already own it — all of it.

They share a reunion-video worthy hug, all three of them, and Buck takes a step back, taking them both in. He’s scared to ask, because having Eddie and Chris back — but he has to know.

“Is this…?” he asks, and Chris rolls his eyes.

“El Paso is boring,” he says in that dry, measured way of his. “I miss actual fro-yo places, and Trader Joe’s.”

And Buck looks at Eddie who has this look on his face, a kind of helpless, hapless joy, like, can you believe this? And then Chris rolls his eyes.

“Dad made things more complicated than they needed to be,” Chris says, “so now we have a whole house we have to figure out how to break the rental agreement on.”

“I’ve been researching it,” Buck says, can’t help it. It isn’t a lie - not even close. Just in case. Just in case all his dreams came true.

And Buck knows that they can’t exactly set the precedent that the second Chris gets back from his self-imposed exile (like father like son) he gets whatever he wants, but when they get the bags loaded in the car, and when Chris and Eddie are in Buck’s jeep, and when Buck’s heart is Shirley Temple-ing up and down the steps of his brain, and Chris says “can we stop for fro-yo,” Buck says yes without hesitation, even though the place Chris wants to go is going to be packed, because they do a fro-yo and caroling event that’s tonight. Buck’s boys are back. They’re back, and Buck will take Chris for fro-yo every single night for the rest of his life if it means he gets to have Eddie and Chris back in his life.

All told, it’s late— or, well, early, depending on how you look at it— when they get to the Diaz house, and Buck can’t help but look over at Eddie when they pull up, the Christmas tree lights on and glowing through the window.

“Have you been living here?” Eddie asks, and there’s something Buck can’t quite identify in his voice.

And Buck realizes that it’s actually probably weird that he’s decorated the Diaz house for Christmas, especially considering that no one is officially living here. And has Buck thought about it? Yes. When they’d set things up with Ravi to rent it out, Buck had thought — maybe. But the truth was, it would be too … painful. Buck has lived with ghosts before. He spent his whole childhood with Daniel’s ghost (even if he hadn’t known that’s what it was at the time ) and he couldn’t move into the Diaz house without the Diazes. It would be like living in a mausoleum.

“Uh,” he says in response to Eddie’s question. Chris had finished his fro-yo and passed out, and was currently snoring quietly, head leaned against the window of the Jeep. “N-no. Nobody’s living here, I just thought… it might be nice to come home to something… homey.”

“You decorated?” Eddie asks. “Tonight? You decorated the house tonight before you picked us up?”

Buck turns a little pink, glancing down at his hands. “Guess your flight getting delayed had a silver lining,” he says, and then he looks up at Eddie.

Eddie, who’s looking at Buck with look on his face that’s half-heartbroken, half-something else. Something Buck can almost but not quite identify. “I missed you too, Buck,” he says finally, reaching out to give Buck’s shoulder a squeeze, his thumb fitting into that place just under his collarbone.

Buck feels the weight of it, and the air is suddenly charged between them. Buck’s looking at Eddie. Eddie’s looking at Buck. Chris is asleep in the backseat.

Eddie is home. Buck feels it like a rush, something that sweeps in and washes through him. Eddie is back where he belongs, and Buck’s world rights itself on its axis.

They get the bags inside, and Chris, and get Chris in his bed and then Eddie comes down the hall, raising his eyebrows in surprise when Buck presents him with their brand of beer.

“I had some groceries delivered while I was decorating,” he admits, a little bashful. “Not much, I just didn’t want you to come home to an empty fridge.”

Eddie cracks his beer open and takes a long drink. It’s going on three in the morning, and he’s tired, yes, but he nods to the couch, and Buck meets him there, settling down next to him, their thighs pressed together, their shoulders touching, both of them watching the gentle glow of the Christmas tree. “So,” Eddie says, “guess I should explain.”

And Buck wants to say that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need an explanation. That having them home is all he needs, that as long as they’re back and safe and here, then Buck is happy. And all of that is true, but Buck also wants to know — he wants to understand. What happened — what changed. “Well,” Buck says carefully, and Eddie looks up from his beer. “I am a little curious, yeah.”

So Eddie explains, talks about how Chris had taken one look at the rental house in El Paso and thrown the holiest of fits. How Chris had said some things that made a lot of sense, actually (Eddie admits this with a slightly chagrined look) and had demanded to know why Eddie was moving back to El Paso when he’d made it pretty fucking obvious (Chris’ exact words, apparently, which Eddie looks a little pained and a little proud and a little amused over) that El Paso didn’t make him happy. Eddie explains that Chris had just been waiting for Eddie to ask him to come home, and Eddie hadn’t wanted to uproot Chris (again) from his clubs, and they’d initially decided to wait until the new year to move back. But then, Eddie says, they’d been sitting in the living room of the rental house, and Chris had asked about Buck, and then Eddie stops talking.

Buck and Eddie never really have awkward silences. Even when Buck had shown up at Eddie’s house to find Eddie in his underwear, dancing to “Old Time Rock n Roll,” it hadn’t been awkward.

But this… this is a little bit awkward. Eddie is picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“Chris asked about me?” Buck asks, and Eddie nods. It feels like a half-truth, like Eddie’s holding something back, and Buck frowns at the Christmas tree, at the gifts he’d picked out for Chris and Eddie, had cried while he wrapped them, because he missed them, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself.

“He did,” Eddie says, carefully, guarded. Eddie’s eyes are on the tree, and Buck looks over at Eddie, and the thing that Buck couldn’t stand to think about, the thing he’d realized too late was that he loves Eddie, that the second he’d realized Eddie planned to go to El Paso, a little piece of Buck’s heart had broken off, and then another and then another until he was in LA, bleeding out, all the pieces of his heart in El Paso.

Eddie shifts, suddenly, almost abruptly, so he’s turned to face Buck, and Buck turns to face Eddie, like he can’t help but echo his movements. “Chris said something,” he says, carefully. “And. I think… I think he might be right.”

“He’s the smartest person I know,” Buck points out, but the joke is a little stiff, doesn’t quite fit this conversation. There’s a pause. And then Buck asks, “what did he say?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, like he’s about to say something he can’t take back. Like things were about to change. “He asked,” Eddie says carefully, “if I had told you I was in love with you.”

Buck’s not sure he’s breathing. He’s not sure Eddie’s breathing.

“If I had considered,” Eddie says, “that leaving you in LA was cruel.” He folds his hands in his lap.

Buck can’t make his mouth work. His throat sticks, clicks around the words. “Eddie—“ he manages, finally, because he’d never thought cruel. “He’s your baby, Eds, I — I never —“

Because Buck had thought all kinds of things when Eddie had left for El Paso — none of them had been that Eddie was cruel. Eddie wasn’t cruel. Eddie was kind and funny and he felt things deeply and he knew the best pancake recipe, and he was Buck’s steady — when Buck didn’t know what to do, there was always Eddie, just waiting. Buck’s loved him for a long time, even if he hadn’t realized it until he’d been confronted with Eddie leaving, with losing both of his boys.

“You aren’t cruel, Eddie,” Buck says finally, and Eddie huffs out a little laugh.

“Well,” Eddie says, eyes on the Christmas tree, but then they flicker back to Buck. “He wasn’t — wrong. About. About me being in love with you.”

It’s quiet, the admission, something soft and gentle and a little painful, a little vulnerable, and Buck isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You know,” Eddie says after a long moment. “There’s one thing missing.”

And Buck frowns, because what could be missing? He’d tried to think of everything. He’d decorated for Christmas in a few hours and then he’d driven to LAX, and something was missing? What could it possibly —

But then Buck’s train of thought ends abruptly, smashing into the side of a cliff. No survivors, because Eddie says there’s only one thing missing and then he closes the distance between them and kisses Buck.

Buck doesn’t kiss Eddie back. He’s too stunned to speak or kiss back or do anything, because this is the second time someone has kissed Buck and helped something click into place. And what had clicked into place wasn’t that he loves Eddie — he knew that already — but that he gets to have this, if he wants it, precious and perfect. That Eddie had left, yes, but he’d come back. That he’d seen the house decorated for Christmas and understood it as Buck’s abundance of joy — as an expression of love — instead of something silly and stupid.

To be loved, Buck knows, is to be known, and Eddie knows him, knows all of him, and isn’t flinching.

Eddie pulls back after the one sided kiss and looks a little panicked, and then the gears in Buck’s brain start to turn again and he shakes his head, reaching for Eddie as he starts to pull back, pulling him back into a kiss, and this one, Buck is an active participant in.

“I love you,” Buck says, when the kiss breaks, their foreheads pressed together, panting into each other’s mouths. “I love you, I love you. Thank you.” He swallows, heavily. “Thank you for coming home,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie says with a little smile. “I love you, too.”

[catmomjudy]

Did Eddie Run Away to the Army?

(Fox Publicity Still)

I commonly see it phrased (in fanfiction and in some posts here) that Eddie “ran away” to the Army.

What does canon say?

In “Eddie Begins” (s3e15), canon states that Eddie “will be back to Afghanistan next week” when they talk with their parents after Christopher is born.

When they are arguing about Eddie’s reenlistment (which he did without telling her), canon also has Shannon saying “I got pregnant, and you signed up. Surprise!”

In s6e16, when they are talking about proposals, Eddie says, “Shannon got pregnant. When she told me the news, I said, ‘We should get married.’ I barely even asked.”

So, it is very clearly canon that Eddie did not enlist until after Shannon discovered that she was pregnant. They got married, and he was already stationed in Afghanistan when Christopher was born. 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 So, how did we get from Civilian Teenager Eddie to PFC Diaz, duty station Afghanistan? Let me tell you a story.

Teenager Shannon absolutely knows she is pregnant the very first day she missed her period. She runs straight into Eddie’s arms and tells him. (That’s the 4 week point of a 40 week pregnancy.)

She and Eddie go down to the courthouse the Very Next Day to get married. That same day, Eddie then goes to a recruitment office.

His recruiting and training process goes through the system “Like Magic,” and he quickly progresses through each of the steps. For 68W (Combat Medic):

Recruitment: 2 weeks

Basic Training: 10 weeks

Advanced Training (AIT): 16 weeks

Prep for deployment: 3 weeks

Total: 31 weeks

(Based on: 68W (Combat Medic) training requirements at goarmy.com; Personal stories and Ask/Answers posted by real soldiers online)

Eddie arrives, duty-bound and healthcare coverage obtained, in Afghanistan, 35 weeks after the stick turned blue.

When Eddie reports to his very first duty station as a PFC (Private First Class, or E3), he asks for leave (“I need to be in Texas in about 4 weeks because we’re having a baby!”), and his very nice commanding officer says, “Why sure PFC Diaz! Let me arrange your military airlift right away!” And off Eddie goes, arriving in El Paso in advance of Christopher’s birth.

It’s a lovely fairy tale, but this is what canon says happened, so we have to accept it as truth. 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 Now, I could tell you all of the ways that this is a TV fantasy. I was in the Navy for 11 years, so I already took it with a grain of salt. I did some poking around (because, as former military, I know that what goes for the Navy doesn’t necessarily go for the Army where it relates to duty assignments), and found various Reddit chats where enlistees were asking questions about recruitment and 68W training, and I skimmed through a bunch of answers to get a general idea of timelines, and then meshed that with my own experience.

The numbers above are an Absolute Minimum. No delays in processing; no wait for the next Basic class start date; no gap after Basic (and no picking up trash and cleaning toilets at Ft. Sam) while awaiting for the next Combat Medic course to start; no leave taken after AIT; and no training or medical period at his first duty station before deployment (and troops are deployed from stateside commands as a group—you don’t just get on a plane and show up in Afghanistan). Eddie would need to take leave and return to Texas for the birth. He would have earned 14 pay periods worth of leave at this point, which would add up to 17.5 days on the books, so he would have enough days to go home for 2-ish weeks. However, he is NOT EVER going to go to Afghanistan and then fly back 4 weeks later. That’s a pipedream. If they’re nice, they’ll keep him stateside and send him for additional training at Ft. Sam Houston (where 68W AIT is held). But, if, as canon states, PFC Eddie is already in Afghanistan, it is highly doubtful that he’d be back for the birth.

And this is even assuming that Teenager Shannon knew she was pregnant on the very first day she missed her period. 🤔 Yeah, probably not.

[This is also not even getting into the fact that, based on the birthdate on her tombstone, by Texas state law, Shannon would have entered kindergarten in September 1998, at the age of almost-six. She would have graduated in 2011 (the year Christopher was born), which would totally turn the above timeline into an unreachable fantasy, unless she and Eddie were in different grades (maybe someone else can figure that bit out). So, we’ll assume she moved to TX from a state that had a December 31 cut-off (which, in the 90s, was most northern states—I’m from PA, and currently live in CT, and, until recently, this was the date in both places), and that Eddie was born sometime before September 1, 1992 (so he could start school in September 1997). Then they would have both graduated in May 2010. There, that fixes it. 😁]

🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 So, did Eddie “run away”?

I think, to even make the Fantasy Timeline happen AND result in placement in the career path Eddie chose (because it’s a selective field with a much higher-required ASVAB score and more training requirements than other high-demand fields like Infantryman), he needed to have been considering it anyway. The military is a really good choice for a boy (or girl) from Texas who doesn’t want to go to college right now, but wants to learn job skills and earn college benefits. If he already was thinking about it, he would already know that the military dependent health benefits (and housing benefits) are pretty darn good. Not perfect, but then, no insurance plan is these days (I could tell you a story about where I, active military, gave birth, vs. the jacuzzi-equipped birthing suite my coworker’s military dependent wife got to use, but this is already too long).

Viewer opinion of Eddie’s enlistment in the Army is very much colored by his memories of Shannon in “Eddie Begins” (see quotes, above), and their argument in “Haunted” (s2e07–and, yes, I did notice that it’s a Ghost Title 😁).

Eddie: What did you need that I didn't give you?

Shannon: You! I needed a husband and a co-parent. And instead, all I got was a life alone in Texas with a baby and you on another continent. I needed someone to have my back.

Eddie: I always had your back.

Shannon: No. You were in Afghanistan.

It’s also colored by civilian opinions on and stereotypes of military personnel and military life.

Military people have families. Many of them have children and good, solid marriages. They rotate back and forth between stateside and forward deployment, so they aren’t always gone (except when there’s an actual war, like in the early 20-teens, so bad timing for Eddie). During peacetime, you don’t deploy over and over again without being assigned to what the Navy calls “Shore Duty” without volunteering for it, usually in writing. Career military people enter service and stick around for 20 years, because the benefits are good, and the retirement pay is good, too. Retiring on half pay at age 38 is not a horrible thing.

Eddie’s fatal character flaw is not that he ran away: It’s that he internalizes his decisions, and makes knee-jerk decisions without discussing them with anyone. Join the Army. Reenlist. Move to LA. Leave the 118. Yep. And I can see why Shannon was royally ticked off. He should have talked with her, but, really, I’m thinking the conclusion would have been the same in the end—she just would have felt better about it. Having your child diagnosed with a major health issue is NOT the time to lose your health insurance, even briefly. If they talked, they could have discussed Eddie rotating stateside at his next opportunity—duty station assignment doesn’t align with enlistment period, after all—closer to Shannon’s mother. A compromise.

I guess what really annoys me is when people use Eddie “running away to the Army” to justify Shannon’s actions (even, or especially, when Eddie says this himself). Eddie’s military service gained him health benefits for his pregnant wife and subsequent child, and health coverage for that same child; he went home on leave when able; and he video-chatted with his wife and child routinely. As Eddie says in s3e15: “I was in Afghanistan, not Cancun.”

Let’s not compare that with Shannon ghosting her own child for two years. Per s2e07, this is also canon, folks.

There’s a reason for the Ghost-themed title, after all.

P.S. I know I’m going to take flack for this one, but “Who Cares?”

🤷🏻‍♀️

[muppeddie]

buck is going to spiral in ways as of yet unseen. he is going to help eddie move. he is going to cancel the lease in his loft and move in the diaz house. he is going to go on a series of neverending dates and never bring them back home. he is going to start mountain climbing and hiking and surfing and knitting and sawing. he will clean the couch and dust the mantle and call eddie and chris every single day while they're in texas and check on them and pretend everything is fine. he is never going to let eddie actually leave. he is going to terrorize every single el paso home agent. no home will be good enough. he is moving too. all of this and more can happen at once.

[texasteaparty]

What if Eddie leaves, and Buck is invited over to El Paso for a Diaz familia Christmas, and he agrees, because he hasn't seen Eddie and Christopher in weeks, maybe months (sure they face time but it's not the same) and maybe Buck thinks he can try to convince them both to come back to LA. Maybe if he tells Eddie how much he loves him? Or that he sees Eddie and Christopher as his family. Maybe maybe maybe.

Except, he gets there and his boys are happy, evidently. Eddie is working at Dispatch here, and Christopher has been excelling at school and has a ton of friends and they spend every Sunday with the Diaz family.

And Buck can't help but accept it.

He can't take Eddie away from this. He wouldn't dare think twice of pulling Chris away too. So he sits at the family table at holiday dinner, and smiles when he's supposed to and cleans up after even if Helena says he doesn't need to.

And then when his 5 day trip is over, he leaves. Because he won't force Eddie to pick him over his family, his son, his home.

(he doesn't see the longing looks Eddie sends him the whole time he's there. He doesn't notice that Chris is way more joyous because his Bucky is back with him.)

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

still the one

Buck’s just arranged himself on the couch when Eddie comes out of the bathroom. He looks soft and tired and a little raw, his hair damp. It hurts to look at him so Buck doesn’t. 

He knows he’s not good at keeping any of this inside. Though, he did try throughout the evening, because that seemed best for Christopher. Too bad that kid is smarter and more emotionally evolved than both of them and bailed for his room right after dinner. Their son had stacked the dishes in the sink before informing them that their “vibe was off” and that he’d be in his room doing homework until it was time to play Apex with his friends. 

Thirteen is proving to be a fun age. 

Eddie had tried again, then. “I never said you did something wrong—"

Buck had cut him off, because bullshit, and Eddie needs to stop repeating that. “It doesn’t matter that you said the words ‘you didn’t do anything wrong’ because you went on to describe exactly how you think I was wrong!” 

And they were down the rabbit hole again. 

But now it’s late. The dishes are done and the kitchen is clean and bags are packed for school and work tomorrow. They’ve gone through all the motions of getting ready for bed, both checking in on Christopher even though he insists he’s too old to be tucked in these days. And there’s nothing else to busy themselves with.

Buck’s stomach roils with feeling out of place and uncomfortable somewhere that’s always felt like home. They’re married now. Buck gave up the loft months ago. There’s nowhere to run. And Buck has nothing to say that isn’t ugly and twisted up and bleeding.  

Eddie seems to have fewer qualms. “Do you need space?” 

That… Buck wasn’t expecting. “What?” 

Eddie sighs, takes a step closer. “From me. Do you need space from me tonight?”

Honestly, Buck doesn’t know what he needs. He just knows that he’s needy and clingy as a general rule and they’re already fighting and it feels sour and unwieldy in his chest to still want to be wrapped in Eddie’s arms despite all the unresolved things they said. He just knows he doesn’t want to make things worse. “I thought, uh… I assumed you might.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Come to bed?” 

“Do you— are we—?” Buck’s not sure how to ask, but he’s definitely sure he can’t keep talking about this tonight. 

Not without saying those strangled and hurt things that he doesn’t completely mean. Probably won’t mean at all come morning. Buck knows people say you and your partner shouldn’t go to bed angry. But continuing this uphill battle when he already feels exhausted and cornered and defensive like a scared animal sounds like hell. 

Eddie answers the question even though Buck couldn’t ask. “Nah, I think we should table it. Talk tomorrow when we’ve had some time. Just…” he looks at the floor. “Could we maybe just be mad next to each other?” 

The knot of tension in Buck’s stomach lessens just a little at the thought that Eddie still wants him. Even though they’re arguing. Even though it feels like they’re talking in circles and getting nowhere. There’s something in knowing that they have more work to do, but that they don’t have to do it all tonight. That there’s time and that maybe tomorrow it’ll feel better. Less raw. Easier to communicate. 

“Yeah, okay.” Buck says finally, taking his pillow with him as he follows Eddie to his—their— bedroom. 

Buck rounds to his side of the bed, tosses the covers back. Eddie always sleeps closest to the door. At first, Buck had thought maybe it was an anxiety thing. Needing to have an exit. Had even made jokes about it whenever they slept away from home and Eddie still picked the side closer to the door. “Just in case you need to make an escape?” 

Eddie would chuckle, but say nothing, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. 

Buck marked it down as just a little quirk of Eddie’s, thought little of it. Until they visited El Paso together for the first time last summer, and Ramon made a passing comment about how he always puts himself between Helena and the door, no matter where they’re sleeping. “Anything that comes through that door would have to go through me, first.” He’d said, half joking, kissing Helena’s cheek. 

It had made Buck’s heart swell in his chest, and he’d caught Eddie’s eye just in time to see him blush again, offer a slightly sheepish grin. 

Now, it makes Buck melt a little every time they get in bed.

He’s not a small man. In fact, he’s got a few inches on Eddie and definitely more bulk. But the fact that Eddie thinks about it like that. Like Buck is something precious to be protected? Buck can’t fault him for it. It’s romantic if a little traditional. It makes Buck feel secure.

Even tonight, the steady repetition of getting into bed on their respective sides settles something in Buck. He’s still upset. He still wishes Eddie would see it his way. He still needs to find a way to explain this to Eddie in a way that he’ll understand so they can figure out how to deal with it. But they get to take a break. They get to try again tomorrow. 

They don’t get as close as they normally do, mindful of each other’s space tonight. Eddie’s facing away from him, arms pulled in when they’d usually start out sprawled over each other. But after Eddie turns off the lamp, after he settles into the mattress and pulls the covers over his shoulder, he reaches out with one foot, hooks an ankle over Buck’s calf. “I love you.” 

That knot untangles just a little bit more. “Love you, too.” Buck replies, shifts the leg Eddie’s snagged a little closer to the middle of the bed. “See you in the morning.” 

It’s a promise. An offered touch of legs under the blankets of his own. It’s not everything. But it’s enough.

Also on AO3

[emjcleaningservices]

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[buddiedreams]

loml | 3.9k, G, pre-buddie

Eddie is leaving him. Buck handles it... exactly as expected.

read here on AO3

Eddie joins him on the couch a minute later with two mugs of coffee, passing one off to Buck as he takes the iPad back. “You sure you want to stay for this? I promise, I am capable of picking a place to live.” Eddie sips his coffee, waving a hand around. “I picked this place.”

Buck scoffs. “Don’t you lie to me, Eddie. I know Pepa found this place. I’m telling her you took credit!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before his iPad is alerting him to the meeting time on Zoom. Buck shuffles out of frame, clutching the warm mug like a lifeline. Eddie and the voice of the realtor fade into the background as he lets himself just kind of… float.

Disassociating, Dr. Copeland had told him a while ago. He hadn’t ever realized that’s what it was, but as soon as she’d put a label on it, it made sense. It was particularly bad after his leg injury, when he’d lay in the hospital bed for hours and hours floating on pain medication and lose track of time, and even who had been there to visit. No one had ever brought it up to him, although he suspected they all assumed it was fogginess from the pain and the medications. It got worse once he was home in the loft, barred from being back at the 118, with nothing to do but wallow in his apartment all day. He’s not even sure how much time he lost just lying in bed then staring at his ceiling and feeling absolutely nothing.

It’s been a while, though. He’s been in a good place, or so he thought. And he wants to be happy for Eddie, of course he does. Chris deserves the world and it breaks Buck’s heart to be missing out on so much of his life like he has been for the last three months, so he can understand Eddie wanting to do something about it. But moving to El Paso? That feels rash, even for Buck, who has a clear and discernible pattern of not thinking things through. 

Although, it’s not like Eddie really has a reason to stay here, anyway. Especially not with Chris putting down roots in El Paso, making friends and settling in for virtual schooling, which Eddie had spent hours on the phone working out with Durand, since he didn’t want Chris to have to adjust to an entire new school the year before high school. The thought of Chris and Eddie staying in EL Paso makes Buck want to throw up, which he absolutely will not be doing in Eddie’s living room, while Eddie is on a call with a realtor. Except… He blinks, refocuses, and realizes that Eddie is silent beside him, and the iPad screen is dark.

“Where’d you go?” Eddie asks, softly, like he’s worried he’ll spook Buck. Shit. Eddie wasn’t supposed to see him like that. 

He shoots Eddie what he hopes is a reassuring smile and shakes his head. “Just zoned out. You get everything sorted out?”

Eddie frowns. “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that? She suggested virtual tours, which… I don’t know. I kind of need to be in a space to visualize it, so I think I’m going to narrow it down to a few choices and take a trip down.”

Buck nods, just once, and sets his now cold coffee on the table in front of them. “Just let me know when you need a ride to the airport, I can drop you off.” He clears his throat, wiping his palms on his pants as he stands. “I-I should go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

He’s sure Eddie says something as he’s all but fleeing from the Diaz house, but he can’t slow his brain down enough to even register any words. He’s not even sure he’d want to hear whatever Eddie had said, anyway.

He spends the night deep-cleaning his kitchen, since he has nothing better to do, and resolutely ignoring his phone. He doesn’t even think about checking it until just before he gets into bed, and his chest hurts when he realizes that Eddie hasn’t so much as texted him. Except it shouldn’t hurt, or at least, he should be used to the hurt by now. Everyone important in his life has left him, so why would Eddie and Chris be any different? There’s something fundamentally wrong with him, and he’d thought for the longest time that maybe Chris and Eddie had seen it and were okay with it, but apparently it just took a few years for them to figure it out. Hell, his own sister hadn’t even stayed, why would Eddie and Chris?

Logically, he knows Chris didn’t leave him, specifically. He knows Chris is taking after his father and running from his problems instead of talking them out. It seems to be a Diaz trait, at least from what Buck has been able to piece together over the years. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though, and it sure as hell doesn’t make him miss Chris any less. It’s like a gaping wound in his chest that he can never quite stem the bleeding from, hands slick and sticky as he tries to hold himself together while half of his home is in Texas. 

Bitterly, he thinks that at least both parts of his home will be together soon.

Their next shift is nothing special. Eddie doesn’t bring up the move to the team, so Buck keeps his mouth closed and his words carefully trimmed so he doesn’t accidentally drop that bomb in the middle of their shift. He’s had enough bombs at work to last a lifetime, although this one might hurt worse than the actual bomb. 

Eddie asks him to come over after work, and Buck is weak, okay? He’s fucking weak for Eddie’s stupid brown cow eyes and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it, so his dumb mouth is saying yes before he can come up with a reasonable excuse. Although, if he’s got a finite amount of time left to hang out with Eddie, he should probably learn how to stuff his feelings down far enough to enjoy their remaining time.

“What’s going on with you, man? You keep zoning out, I hardly ever seen you do that. Are you okay?”

Buck blinks down at the now warm beer in his hands, frowning. He hadn’t even realized he was disassociating this time, much less doing it so obviously in front of Eddie again. “Uh, y-yeah. I’m fine. Just, y’know. Haven’t been sleeping well. I’m sorry. What did I miss?”

Eddie scrutinizes his face, and it takes everything to keep from squirming under his best friend’s critical gaze. “Talk to me. Please?”

Buck can’t help the scoff that tears past his lips, but he does regret it immediately. But hey, everyone’s got a breaking point, right? “Why? We haven’t talked about this giant pink elephant the entire time, why would we start talking about it now?”

Eddie frowns. “Chris? What is there to talk about?”

Buck stares. He can’t help it. He knows that Eddie hates talking about his feelings, and that suggesting therapy would go over about as well as a punch to the face, but… he can’t really be this blind, can he? “What isn’t there to talk about? Your teenage son fled to a different state because he didn’t want to talk about his problems. And I don’t know which part of that is worse: the fact that you’re moving back to a place you hate instead of talking to him about your issues, or the fact that you let him in the first place.”

Eddie has the audacity to roll his eyes, and Buck can feel a hysterical laugh caught in his chest. What the fuck is happening? “I don’t hate El Paso.”

Buck sets the bottle on the coffee table harder than he means to, flinching at the loud noise in such a quiet room. “That’s what you got out of what I said? And you know what, that’s besides the point anyway. You moved here to get away from El Paso!”

Eddie shrugs. “What else am I supposed to do?”

The hysterical laugh rips its way out of Buck’s mouth and he’s up pacing before he even consciously thinks about moving. “Instead of buying a plane ticket to move to fucking Texas, buy a plane ticket to bring your teenage son home and show him that running away from your problems doesn’t solve anything! God, Eddie, you’re so worried about not doing anything wrong with him that you’re ignoring your job as a parent. You’re supposed to teach him that this won’t get him anywhere, that he should be confronting his issues and talking them out, even if it’s not with a therapist, because letting yourself stew in bad thoughts is a recipe for disaster. You and I know that better than anyone. Be a fucking parent, Eddie. Be his parent.”

When Buck finally looks at him, Eddie’s arms are crossed tight over his chest and he’s staring at Buck with perhaps the coldest expression on his face that Buck has ever seen. Buck realizes startlingly quickly that he’s overstepped. Massively overstepped. He’s fifteen miles past the line and his feet are cemented to the ground, because there’s no way to shove his outburst back into his chest and keep it there, like the caged animal that it should have remained. 

“You’re out of line, Buck. He’s my child, and I will parent him as I see fit. You don’t get to tell me that I’m shirking my responsibilities, you’re not a parent. You don’t know what it takes.”

And if that’s not a slap to the face, Buck’s not sure what is. Because as wrong as it feels, Eddie’s right. He isn’t Christopher’s parent, and he hopes to whatever higher power there is that he never will be. He’s the backup plan. He’d known that, sure, but he’d let himself get too comfortable, because Chris feels like his kid. He feels like he’s been ripped in half this whole time because his son is in another state and hasn’t so much as texted him in the three months he’s been gone, despite Buck’s attempts to reach out. But Christopher isn’t his son. He’s Eddie’s son, and while Buck might think Eddie’s approaching it wrong, he has no concept of how a parent should treat their child. He’s had the shittiest role models, on top of the mountain of abandonment issues he’s got.

And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? Christopher isn’t his son, he never was, and Buck was always going to end up alone. Chris and Eddie were always going to move on and maybe be a family with someone Eddie fell in love with, or just by themselves. Buck was just filling a space for whoever came next. Story of his fucking life, turns out. Just filling a space destined for someone else. He filled the role of brother for Maddie, of son for his parents when he couldn’t save the son they wanted. He spent his early twenties being a stand-in for all the people he slept with, who probably went on to fall in love and move on with their lives. And here he is, past thirty and still stuck in the same spot he’d been at 26. Tired, depressed, and destined to be alone.

As Buck’s world comes crashing down around him, he sucks in a shaky breath and grabs his jacket from the back of the couch. He doesn’t bother looking at Eddie as he leaves. He can barely stop the clawing in his throat from spilling out in a sob, because he feels like he’s nineteen again, fleeing in a hand-me-down Jeep without anyone in the world to care about him. Except this time, he flees back to a loft that feels as hollow as his chest. 

He can’t figure out what to do to keep himself busy and, quite frankly, all he wants to do is curl up in his too-big bed and cry. It’s not like he has anything better to do, anyway, so he changes into his comfiest pair of sweats and an old, ratty LAFD tshirt and crawls under the blankets. 

He’s not sure how long he’s laying there before he hears keys jingling in the startling silence of his apartment. He doesn’t even know who he assumes it should be. Maddie has no reason to be here, Bobby even less of a reason since they don’t have a shift until tomorrow, and they didn’t have plans. It’s sure as hell not going to be Eddie, not after what he’d said before leaving Eddie’s place. He burrows further under the blankets until just the top of his head is poking out, and listens for any clue as to who it is. The footsteps on the stairs sound heavy, so that rules out Maddie. 

“Buck?”

Buck nearly flinches as he realizes it’s Eddie’s voice. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, he really doesn’t think he can handle it. He knows how far he overstepped, he knows Christopher isn’t his, and he can make that clear, but not right now. Not when it still feels like there’s a knife digging into his chest, stuck right where his heart is supposed to be. He can’t listen to Eddie tell him that he needs to take a step back, to stay in his own lane where Eddie’s son is concerned. 

“Buck?” It’s softer this time, like Eddie’s afraid he might be sleeping. He could pretend to be sleeping. It might get him out of the conversation, at least for the time being. He could maybe organize his thoughts enough to convince Eddie to keep him around, to still be his friend even after he moved to Texas.

“Buck, come on. I just want to talk.” There’s silence for a moment, then a couple of quiet steps. “To apologize,” Eddie corrects, and Buck can hear the frown in his voice. But… apologize? What does Eddie have to apologize for? He digs himself out of his blanket cocoon enough to peek an eye toward Eddie, who looks… well, miserable feels kind of mean, but if the shoe fits. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Buck says, quietly, his voice a lot scratchier than he’d anticipated it being. Has… has he been crying? 

Eddie scoffs. “Yes, I do. I shouldn’t have said that you don’t know what it takes to be a parent. I’m…” Eddie groans, dropping onto the end of Buck’s bed heavily. “I was mad because you’re right, and I know that you’re right, but… I don’t know if I can do it.”

Buck shuffles around until he can sit back against his headboard, arms resting limply on his knees. “You’re not wrong. I’m not a parent, I don’t know what it takes to raise a kid, much less a teenager. I overstepped.”

Eddie turns to look at him, frowning. “You didn’t, Buck. I know we don’t exactly talk about it, but you are a parent to Chris. You have been for years, even if none of us ever acknowledged it.” Eddie laughs, though it’s devoid of any humor. “God, I don’t even know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. It would’ve been a disaster if I’d been parenting by myself this whole time.”

He rolls his eyes. He can’t help it. “Eddie, you don’t have to lie. It’s fine. I get it. But you should go talk to him. I really don’t think he meant for this to be a permanent thing.”

“No?” Eddie asks, softly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

“No, of course not. His entire life is here, man. All his friends, our family, Carla. Eds, he loves LA. He just needed some space, he doesn’t need you to move halfway across the country for him.”

Eddie hums, a small smirk on his lips. “You’re just trying to get me to stay, aren’t you?” he jokes, but Buck can feel his face falling.

“I mean, of course I don’t want you to go. Everyone always leaves me, and I thought—well, never mind. It doesn’t matter. But if I thought it was the right move, I’d tell you. I wouldn’t lie to you, not when it’s about Chris.”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to him, and Buck can’t help but shrink. He hates admitting to his abandonment issues, but… it’s not like Eddie is unaware of them. After all, he’d encountered Buck in the throes of his abandonment from Abby. 

“Oh, Buck, I-I didn’t even—”

“Think about it?” Buck interrupts, shrugging. “I didn’t expect you to. He’s your son, Eddie. It’s not about me, and I’m an adult. I can deal with my own issues. Christopher should always be your priority.”

“You’re important too, Buck.”

“It’s not about me!” Buck scoffs, shoving his way out of bed to pace at the foot of it. “Chris is your son, Eddie. You need to be there for him, and you need to trust that whatever you think is right is what you need to be doing. You’re a good dad, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. If you think you’re doing the right thing, then I’m positive you are. Whether I like it or not doesn’t matter. I’m an adult, I’ll handle it.” Buck’s shoulders slump as he sits back down on the edge of the bed, suddenly sapped of all his energy. “Chris is more important. I miss that kid like crazy, but if Texas is what’s best for him, then I’ll keep missing him. A-and you.”

“I… Buck, I need you to look at me, okay?”

Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t think he can bring himself to move again, much less see whatever expression is on Eddie’s face when he inevitably tells Buck to fuck off.

“Please, Evan?”

His eyes snap over at that, and he feels like he’s been thrown back to that hospital room again, sitting next to a very injured Eddie while being told that Eddie gave him the most important thing in the world, that Buck had a responsibility now. One that he’s going to lose sooner than he’d like.

“I’m not leaving you, Buck,” Eddie says, voice firm, but it feels hollow. Maybe Buck just feels hollow. It seems irrelevant right now. “I’m not leaving you. I will be back, and I’ll bring Christopher with me. Okay? But you’re right. I need to be there for him, I need to do what I can to fix my mistake before it’s too late, and I can’t do that from California. So I’m going to rent out the house here and stay with Sophia and her family. They’re only 20 minutes from my parents’ place, which is far enough to give Chris his space, but close enough that we can still work on… everything.”

The thought of strangers in the Diaz house makes his skin crawl. Still he forces what he hopes looks like a smile and nods once. “I’ll be here.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie leaves two weeks later, to the day. It’s a Thursday, and a day they both have off, even though Eddie is officially on a leave of absence effective yesterday. His two suitcases and his carryon are tucked carefully into the back of Buck’s Jeep and Eddie is in the passenger seat, rattling off a list of things he needs to do once he gets to El Paso. Buck isn’t really listening, just sort of letting the cadence of Eddie’s voice wash over him, trying to reconcile the fact that this will be the last time he sees Eddie for… who knows how long.

The traffic at LAX is, predictably, horrible. Buck had expected nothing less, though, which was why he’d insisted they leave with plenty of time to park and get Eddie inside before his plane boarded. Surprisingly, he finds a parking spot relatively close to the entrance, and dutifully takes Eddie’s second suitcase and follows him across the road to the airport.

He vividly remembers the last time he’d been here, dropping off someone he fully expected to see again. He hadn’t gone past the glass doors that time, and he already knows he won’t this time, either. He can’t. If he so much as steps foot into the airport, he knows he’ll be buying a seat on Eddie’s flight in three seconds flat, and he can’t do that. He’s barely keeping it together as it is, he can’t afford to follow Eddie like a lost puppy all the way to Texas.

Eddie pauses at the entrance, and Buck clears his throat and passes the second suitcase to him. “Guess this is it, huh? You’ll text when you land?”

Eddie smiles. “Yeah, Buck. I’ll text you when I land.” Buck nods, and Eddie scrutinizes his face for a moment before frowning. “I’m coming back, Buck. This isn’t permanent.”

Buck doesn’t want to fight. He really, honestly doesn’t have the energy for it. And he really doesn’t want to fight when this might be the last face-to-face conversation he gets to have with Eddie. So he just nods and forces a smile onto his face. 

“I know. You don’t have to keep saying it, I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

That only seems to deepen Eddie’s frown, but Buck just really cannot handle anything serious right now. His nerves are already fried, and he’s positive he’s not even going to make it out of this stupid fucking parking lot before he breaks down. He pulls Eddie into a tight hug, long enough that he gets a little bit of comfort from it, but not long enough for Eddie to recognize just how tightly coiled he is right now.

“Text me when you land, and let me know how you get settled in, okay? I’ll see you when you get back.”

Eddie looks like he has more to say, so Buck takes a couple of steps back. Eddie seems to get the message, sighing and nodding. “Sure, Buck. I’ll text, don’t worry. And Chris and I will see you soon.”

Buck stays standing on the sidewalk for as long as he thinks he can get away with, watching Eddie’s retreating figure weave through the airport, until he loses sight of him getting through the security line. Even after that, Buck remains rooted to the spot, unable to shake himself from his stupor enough to stumble back to his car. He has to, eventually, though, so he manages to swallow back the rising panic long enough to cross back to the parking lot and get into his car.

He knows Eddie isn’t coming back, is the thing. He’d been so sure Abby was coming back, sure enough that he’d promised to wait for her, even when she had seemed hesitant about it. It’s the exact opposite, now. He wants Eddie to come back with every fiber of his being, but he knows deep down that if Chris is as acclimated to Texas as Eddie’s parents have said, that Eddie will end up moving so that he doesn’t disrupt Christopher’s life. Because that’s the right thing to do, as a parent, Buck knows that.

Doesn’t make being left again hurt any less. Especially when he’d been so sure Chris and Eddie would be the ones to stay.

Turns out, maybe Buck just isn’t worth staying for.

[silkendandelion]

What happened to Texas?

Disclaimer: I created a lot of the lore below for my personal Fallout rp, but feel free to use any ideas here for your own nonprofit discord, fanart and fanfictions (no commissions of any kind). Keep fandom free.

The day the bombs fell, most every Texan was at home, glued to their television screens to watch the Rangers play the Red Sox in the first World Series on Texas soil in over two decades. The rest of them were in their offices, trying to decide how to save their beloved state from the imminent economic crash that would follow the news that the oil fields have finally run dry.

Within just a few minutes, the decision was made for them.

Immediately following the fallout, a lot of Texans in the rural areas were left mostly unaffected, albeit severely isolated and short on supplies. For the four major metropolises: Dallas, Houston, Austin, and El Paso, they were all but scorched earth.

As a result of having so little nuclear infrastructure outside these four areas, what followed continues to amaze the anthropologists who study the years immediately following the first bombs. With no intercommunications, and no outside forces, called the “Great Grocery Run”, was a mass temporary exodus of Texans to the surrounding state borders to acquire nuclear technology and return to their non-irradiated homesteads. A lot would not return, although it picked clean the borders of nearly all salvage and tech in less than a decade.

Where the evidence of humanity was slowly dwindled and erased, nature reclaimed the (in some places nearly 100 miles) wide dead zone around the landlocked parts of the state, called “Chiron’s Hoof Print”, as a running joke that Chiron leapt off the earth not to escape Heracles but to escape nuclear war.

With such a wide wilderness to cross that has no places to salvage or buy supplies, crossing the dead zone with vehicles runs the risk of being stranded, especially when visitors don’t know to expect sudden wilderness. Meanwhile, travelers on foot are at the mercy of the irradiated rivers and animals.

Nearly 200 years later, the Hoof is more clearly marked, well-mapped but not so well understood as by the Farriers: a high-turnover group of mercenaries who take payment (caps or trade) to escort both caravans and individuals across the dead zone. They understand where the thinnest zones of the Hoof are, as well as carrying knowledge of safe water sources and how best to defend themselves from every type of creature. The average trip across is four days with plenty of rest breaks, but some excellently navigated Farriers, or ones with hearty clients that only stop to nap, can make the journey in 3 days, averaging one to two trips a week per Farrier.

(Put your fallout headcanons and extra lore in the notes so I can read them please, the hyperfixation is hyperfixating)

[911varietyposts]

🖥️🖥️🖥️ 💔💔💔 😭😭😭 and 🛍🛍🛍 please and thank you! 🙏

incominggggg

make britt write!

🖥️ College Polyfire/Toddler Chris

Once the boy and his things were packed up in Tommy’s pickup truck, they made their way over to the stadium. “You know the drill buddy. Stay in your chair on the sidelines until I’m done with practice and come get you, okay?” He turned in his seat to look at the boy, who was grinning away in his car seat. “Okay!” He unbuckled the boy and helped him out of the truck, making sure he stayed nearby as he unloaded the wagon from the bed and sat it on the ground. Once Chris’ little chair and canopy shade were loaded into it, Tommy turned to look at the boy. “Are we walking or riding today?” Chris studied the wagon before giggling happily. “Ride Tada, ride!”

💔 BuddieTommy Angst

His phone dinged from his hoodie pocket, his alarm going off to tell him it was time to go. “I should get going, it’s a long drive to El Paso.” He whispered as he stood up, his arms never moving from where they were wrapped around Buck and Tommy. “I’m going to miss you two so much.” A fresh wave of tears slipped down his cheeks as he hugged them both tightly. “Keep the house clean and ready for me, okay? I’ll be back before we all know it.” Eddie tried to joke, but it fell flat from the somberness of the group. He softly pressed a kiss to Buck’s lips, then Tommy’s before grabbing his suitcase and heading to the front door, the other two men following close behind. “I’ll call you when I stop for the night, so you know I got there safely.”

😭BTHB Crying into Chest

Buck let himself sit on the bed next to Eddie, the other man quickly wrapping his arms around the leg closest to him. His face was pressed against Buck’s thigh, trying to stay as close to the man as possible. “Don’t…don’t leave.” Eddie mumbled, Buck’s hand carding through his hair as his sobs turned to soft hiccups. “I’m right here. I’m here as long as you need me.” Buck’s voice remained soft as he stared down at his best friend. Eventually Eddie’s breathing evened out and his death grip on Buck’s leg loosened. As Buck leaned back and stared at the ceiling, he let out a sigh as he began to think.

🛍 Down Bad in Home Depot

Following his boyfriend to the kitchen, Eddie leaned against the wall and watched as Nick moved around, grabbing things they would need for dinner that night. “Are you going to let me help tonight or am I still on watching duty?” He asked, only for Nick to shoot him a look. “Eddie, babe, I love you, but you burnt potatoes last week. You aren’t cooking anything for us for a while.” “It’s not my fault I got distracted.” Eddie complained as he walked up behind Nick and wrapped his arms around the man. He laid his head between his shoulder blades and rocked back and forth gently. “Actually, that was your fault that I was distracted, you know.”

[purplecladmerchant]

You wanna hear thoughts about drop out au?

No? Bad for you. I'm posting them

junior is in the cbc first year of engineering

Zirk manage to get to his second on Medicine apenas paso el cbc

They live together in a shitty appartament en barrancas

Most people call Henry Jr Edgard. Zirk calls him Eddie.

Once Jr called him Zirky.

Zirk kicked his leg.

Jr punched his face.

There is a card. Idk who owns it. But there is a car that never have gas and probably doesn't work.

Jr have to sleep there whenever Zirk brings someone home.

The arregment is Zirk will sleep in the car if Jr gets a gf home. But he never does. He's not very lucky.

Zirk has been punched in the face for remind him his bad luck when he complained about sleeping in the car.

Henry actually wants a gf not having sex, which Zirk does the opossite. He's easy.

They are dudes being bros most of the time.

My phone autocorrected "bros" to "broke" and I accept it's headcanon.

Junior punches really hard.

Zirk's an addict but trying reeeeeeeaaaaaly hard to stay clean.

However he's caffeinated like no one ever alive.

They have a pride flag in their balcony. It's Zirk's. Jr isn't in the closet but he does prefer women over men so he isn't noisy.

They definitely are a people pleaser and a psycho.

[missasahina]

Several days after #007 Side Masaomi - Book 2, Season 1

The story is below, in English. The following text in spanish is my commentary.

La historia de Masaomi es solo 8 paginas, pero en el afán de traducir con la mayor fidelidad posible he tardado mucho. ¡Finalmente terminé!

La he traducido a inglés, no la voy a volver a traducir al español porque, honestamente, no puedo más. Para leerla en español simplemente hay que copiar el texto en el traductor, los resultados son bastante buenos. Por otro lado, si la traducción al inglés parece extraña, está hecha de japonés a inglés con el traductor; leyendo desde el japonés por mi cuenta he ajustado la traducción lo más posible y he cambiado algunas oraciones que sonaban poco naturales. Voy a dejar el PDF con el texto original en japonés por si alguien quiere tomarse el trabajo de traducirlo otra vez lol.

La historia extra de Masaomi no aparece en el anime, pero si en el juego con algunos cambios. El contexto es: Después de la boda de Miwa y Rintaro, Masaomi lleva a Ema (a quien en la novela nunca nombran, he de decir) y a Wataru a casa en auto. La boda, la situación con Kaname, la situación con Subaru, las preguntas de Natsume dejan a Ema muy sensible. Mientras maneja, Masaomi le pregunta sobre qué va a hacer con el ramo; cuando Miwa lanzo su ramo fue Ema quien lo atrapo, y esto lleva a la conversación de porque él aún no está casado. Masaomi le cuenta que cuando su padre murió Wataru era muy pequeño, por lo que no recuerda a su padre y siendo Masaomi quien más se parece a su padre, él decidió tomar ese papel en la vida de Wataru. Así el tiempo paso y ahora tiene 30 y está soltero, lo que el mismo considera un poco patético. Esto hace a Ema pensar en que ella no conoce el rostro de su madre y se pone a llorar aunque intenta contener las lágrimas, le dice que la hace feliz saber que Wataru no se sentirá como se siente ella gracias a Masaomi. Masaomi la abraza gentilmente y le promete que él estará siempre a su lado para intentar aliviar su soledad, aunque sea un poco.

En la novela, el resumen del capitulo: A Masaomi se le hace complicado hablar con Ema para decirle que va a asistir a un omiai. El siente que estaria rompiendo su promesa de estar a su lado para siempre. Le pide ayuda a Kaname para decircelo, pero una vez que le dicen Ema no tiene ningun problema con ello e incluso está feliz por él...

omiai: encuentro de matrimonio concertado. +info en el link.

Texto en ingles/ English text below:

That day, unusually, she stayed in the living room even after she had finished cleaning up after dinner. 

(Oh, maybe this is my chance)  

That thought crosses my mind.  

In fact, even though we live in the same apartment building, we don't often have the chance to see each other. 

When I get busy working at a hospital, I find it difficult to come home and end up working 24 hours a day. 

Even if that wasn't the case, my days off tended to be irregular, so it was quite difficult to find an opportunity to talk to her. 

.... I'm the only one who thinks that way, 

and when I told Ukyo, 

Ukyo: “Masaomi-niisan is not very good at managing his time.” 

I was afraid he would get angry, so I told Kaname, 

Kaname: "Isn't it just a question of feelings?"  

I'm sure that would just be dismissed. 

--Anyway. 

Right now, we're both in the living room. 

Plus, it looks like she has some free time. 

(Great. I'll tell her tonight.) 

That's what I was thinking when I walked towards her. / Approached her 

Masaomi: "Hey." 

"...Haha~" 

She yawned. 

Perhaps because she was tired, she yawned so loudly that her pharynx was clearly visible. 

Masaomi: ".......Ah" 

"......Huh" 

Time stops. I can see her cheeks gradually turning red. 

(Um, well) 

What should I do in a situation like this? 

Smiling would feel strange, laughing would be wrong, and ignoring her would be unnatural. 

 For a moment, my mind went blank, and I couldn't say anything. 

"... I'm so sorry!" 

But then, she apologized to me first. 

Masaomi: "Oh, well, you know, there's really nothing to apologize for..." 

This can't go on like this. Anyway, I have to say something. 

Masaomi: "Ah, you see." 

I tried saying that anyway. 

"Y-yes." 

She answered while covering her mouth with one hand. 

...No good. 

As I watched that gesture, I became more and more confused. 

Anything is fine. Just something that you think she'll be interested in. 

Masaomi: "Um, well... I want to ask about games." 

I blurted that out before I realized it. 

"Huh?" 

She looked at me with a puzzled expression. ...But those eyes weren't accusatory. 

Masaomi: "Ah... well... you see." 

Inwardly, I felt a little relieved as I connected the words. 

Masaomi: "Actually, Wataru wanted to play a game..." 

" Wataru -chan?" 

Masaomi: "Uh, yeah. I was thinking, maybe you could find something, because... I have no idea what would be good." 

"Oh, I see." 

Masaomi: "So, I was wondering if you could help me..." 

"Shall I bring it?" 

She suddenly said that. 

Masaomi: "Huh?" 

"I have something good. I'll bring it over right away." 

Masaomi: "Um... well..." 

I give up. 

I never expected to get such a reaction. But now I can't say that I just blurted something out. 

Masaomi: "I-I'm glad to hear that. But isn't it bothersome?" 

"No way, not at all. Oh, by the way, Masaomi-san, why don't you come and play too? It's a game that can be played by three people." 

Masaomi: "Oh... is that so? Okay, just a little then." 

"Okay. Just wait!" 

She ran out of the living room. In the end, the three of us - me, her, and Wataru - spent the night playing games. 

....... 

(Hmm, what should I do?) 

A few days later, one afternoon, I was feeling a bit lost and eating lunch alone in the kitchen. 

(I never thought I'd have so few opportunities.) 

I opened the photo album on the table. There was a picture of a woman dressed in formal attire. 

(As expected, it would be bad to say it later. Somehow, today...) 

While I was thinking about this, I suddenly heard a loud voice from behind me. 

Kaname: "Whoa, who is this beautiful woman?!?" 

I turned around and saw Kaname standing there. It seemed he had been asleep until just a moment ago. His eyes were blurry, as if he had just woken up. 

Masaomi: "Good morning, Kaname." 

Kaname: "Masami-nii, are you off today?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah, I just finished the night shift. I have something to do tomorrow, so I took today off to prepare for it. What about you?" 

Kaname: "Me? I'm off today. I drank too much yesterday. It was Friday, so..." 

Masaomi: "...Ah, I see." 

Since it’s Kaname, I'm sure they were having fun making a fuss. 

Masaomi: "Did you find a nice person?" 

Kaname: "Ah, nothing like that, we were just hanging out. They were really fun, but that's all." 

Kaname glances at the photo in the album again. 

Kaname: "But, well...how should I put it, isn't she surprisingly beautiful? Is she an acquaintance?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah, I guess so." 

Kaname: "Really? Can you introduce me to her next time?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah, that's fine." 

Kaname: "Ah, are you sure? By the way, who is that?" 

Masaomi: "Oh, that person is..." 

Just as I was about to say that, as if struck by lightning, an idea flashed in my mind. 

Masaomi: "That's it!" 

Maybe because I suddenly yelled out loud, Kaname looked surprised. 

Masaomi: "Hey, Kaname, I have a favor to ask of you. Can you help me?" 

Kaname: "...M-Masa-nii?" 

Kaname looked at me with a doubtful expression. 

.......

"What is it, Kaname-san?" 

A few hours later, she came into the living room. She had just come home from school and was still in her uniform. 

Kaname: "Oh, I'm sorry, little sister." 

"I came home in a hurry because you said it was important. It's really important, isn't it?" 

She said, as if to emphasize. Kaname's face twisted in a slightly sad expression. 

Kaname: "It’s not like that, little sister. You could trust me a bit more, wouldn't you?" 

"...I would like to do that if possible." 

That's a surprisingly harsh thing to say. Even Kaname was smiling bitterly. 

Kaname: "...Well, it's okay, imoto-chan will understand eventually. More importantly, it's actually Masa-nii who has something to tell little sister." 

"Masaomi-san?" 

She turns to me. 

Kaname: "Come on, Masa-nii." 

Kaname urges me on. He's made all the effort to set things up for me, so I can't let this opportunity go to waste. 

Masaomi: "Yeah, that's right. I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I just couldn't put it into words. So I asked Kaname for reinforcements." 

"Oh. Reinforcements... huh?" 

She looks puzzled. 

I hurried on. 

Masaomi: "Well, there was something I wanted to talk about, but I didn't know how to start the conversation. So I was totally stuck. You see, the point is that he's used to things like this, or rather he's good at treating women..." 

“W-what are you talking about?” 

She gave me a suspicious look. 

(Oh no, I have no choice. I'll just say it all at once.) 

I take a deep breath and say it. 

Masaomi: "You see, I actually have an omiai tomorrow." 

"Eh?" 

Her voice aches in my heart. 

Masaomi: "I'm sorry I didn't tell you until the last minute... This is the person..." 

While saying this, I handed her the album. 

"Wow..." 

She looked inside and let out a sigh of awe. 

"She's really beautiful... What kind of person is she?" 

Masaomi: "She's the daughter of the chairman of the hospital where I work." 

"What!" 

She cried out. She must have been very surprised because her voice was trembling. 

"The chairman's daughter?!?!? You have an omiai with her? Where did you meet her?!?!" 

Masaomi: "It was a while ago when I was on the night shift, there was an emergency. It was a young woman who had choked on something." 

I continued to explain as I got the album back. 

Masaomi: "It would have been easy to remove it with open surgery, but the person accompanying her said that the patient was a famous singer, and we shouldn’t under any circumstance cut her throat." 

"And so?" 

Masaomi: "I had no choice, so I took charge and tried a method that didn't require surgery. I was a little worried, but fortunately, it worked." 

"Wow... Masaomi, you're amazing." 

Masaomi: “Well, it’s not that much..." 

To be honest, I feel a little embarrassed when I get praised so much. 

(I don't like the sight of blood... so if I can avoid surgery, that's the best thing.) 

Masaomi: "... anyway." 

I cleared my throat lightly before continuing. 

Masaomi: "When everything went well, the person accompanying the patient was even happier than the patient himself. She said that I was the pride of our hospital or something. I thought that was a strange thing to say, but it turned out that the person accompanying the patient was the daughter of the hospital's chairman." 

"That's what happened." 

Masaomi: "After that, the daughter came to the hospital occasionally. We used to talk occasionally. Then, the other day, the manager suddenly called me and told me about the omiai." 

"I see..." 

Masaomi: "I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now." 

I bowed to her. 

Masaomi: "She's the president's daughter, and the manager is the intermediary, so I couldn't refuse. Do you understand?' 

"Of course." 

Her face lit up with a smile. 

"That's a great offer. There's no reason to refuse it." 

Masaomi: "Huh?" 

This time it was my turn to be surprised. 

Masaomi: "Aren't you angry?" 

"Why would I be angry?" 

Masaomi: "N-no... that's fine. For some reason, I thought you would." 

"That's not true. I'm praying that it all works out!" 

Masaomi: "...I-I see, thank you." 

After she left, I looked back at Kaname. 

Masaomi: "She didn't seem to mind at all. I guess I wasted my time worrying about it." 

Kaname: "Well, I don't think it's a question of profit or loss. But Masa-nii, was that, okay? " 

Masaomi: "Yeah. I'm glad I was able to talk to her before tomorrow." 

My worries were resolved, and I felt my heart lighten. 

(Huh?) 

--At that moment. 

(What is this?) 

I certainly felt a great sense of relief. But somewhere in my heart, something was bothering me. 

That sense of discomfort hadn't existed until just now. However, I feel it clearly now. 

(...What's wrong with me?) 

....... 

—The next day. 

As I was walking along the road, which was becoming engulfed in dusk, my cell phone rang. 

Masaomi: "Hello." 

Kaname: "Masa-nii." 

I heard Kaname's voice. 

Masaomi: "Oh, Kaname. What's wrong?" 

Kaname: "Masa-nii, where are you now?" 

Masaomi: "I'm near the hotel. I just finished the omiai, I was thinking about going home now..." 

Kaname: "Oh, wait a minute." 

Kaname interrupts me. 

Kaname: "I want to talk for a bit. Let's meet at Kichijoji station. How long will it take to get there?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah... about 40 minutes." 

Kaname: "Okay. See you later then." 

Then the call went off. 

(What was going on? Kaname's voice sounded very serious though...) 

.......

Kaname took me to a bar located near Kichijoji station 

It was quite spacious, even though it was underground. Perhaps because it was early in the day, there were few customers, and it was quiet. 

Kaname: "How is it here?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah, it looks quite relaxing." 

At Kaname's urging, we sat at the edge of a large table. Kaname ordered a whiskey on the rocks, and I asked the bartender to make me a sweet cocktail. 

Kaname: "So..." 

After a quick toast, Kaname said. 

Kaname: "So what happened in the end?" 

Masaomi: "You mean the omiai?" 

Kaname: "Yeah. I mean, what else would I ask about?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah, that's right. She was a really nice person." 

Kaname: "So... it’s decided." 

Masaomi: "That's right. I had decided on the answer before we met." 

Kaname: “Well, yeah, I get it." 

Kaname tilts his glass. 

Kaname: "It's just perfect. So, what are your plans?" 

Masaomi: "Plans?" 

When I asked him again, Kaname looked dumbfounded. 

 Kaname: "Well, I mean, engagement ceremony, wedding ceremony, etc..." 

Masaomi: "W-wait a second. What are you talking about, Kaname?" 

Kaname: "I mean, Masa-nii's wedding..." 

Masaomi: "What?!?!?!" 

I couldn't help but shout out loud. 

Masaomi: "When did I say I was getting married?" 

Kaname: "Well, I mean..." 

Kaname was unusually at a loss for words. 

Kaname: "You said it earlier, you've decided." 

Masaomi: "Yeah, I planned to turn it down from the beginning." 

Kaname: "What?!" 

Kaname's mouth drops open. 

Kaname: "Are you going to refuse?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah. Because if I get married, I'll have to leave home, right? Then I won't be able to be by her side." 

Kaname: "What... does that mean..." 

Masaomi: "I made a promise." 

I said. For some reason, it felt like my voice was stronger than usual. 

Masaomi: "On the way back from our mother's wedding. I told her I'd be by her side forever. I can't break that promise." 

Kaname: "She... are you talking about imoto-chan...?" 

Masaomi: "Of course." 

I nodded. 

Masaomi: “Who else would it be?” 

Kaname: "Wait a minute, Masa-nii. If you were going to refuse, you didn’t have to tell imoto-chan that you were going to an omiai, right?" 

Masaomi: "But...I don't want to keep a secret from her." 

Silence fell. Kaname stared at me for a while, then he let out a big sigh. 

Kaname: "Ah... so that's how it is. Wow, I'm surprised. I see, I can't believe Masa-nii... haaa." 

He sighs repeatedly. 

Masaomi: "What's wrong, Kaname?" 

Kaname: "No, don't worry about it. I was just surprised to find a rival in an unexpected place." 

Masaomi: "Rival?" 

I have no idea what he's talking about. 

Kaname: "But...surprisingly, it's the ones who don't have awareness that are the toughest." 

Just as Kaname was muttering these words to himself, I received a call on my cell phone. 

Masaomi: "Hello." 

"Oh, is this Masaomi-san?" 

It was her call. 

Masaomi: "Yeah. What's wrong?" 

"Um... how was your day?" 

Masaomi: "Yeah, it's over. I had to decline." 

"What?!" 

The tone of the voice that came from the phone changed. 

"Oh, is that so? Sorry, I thought it was decided..." 

(...Huh? Why did everyone think that?) 

“So, I ended up baking a cake to celebrate...” 

Masaomi: "Oh, that's right. It's fine, don't worry about it. Right, let's eat it together. I'll be home soon, so could you cut a slice for me?" 

"Yeah, but..." 

Masaomi: "It's okay. I'll eat it since you baked it." 

I hung up the phone and turned to Kaname. 

Masaomi: "Let’s go home. She baked a cake. Let's all eat it together." 

Kaname: "...I'm fine." 

Kaname said. 

Kaname: "I'm going to drink a bit more here, so you go home first. You and imoto-chan can have the cake together." 

Masaomi: "Just the two of you? Kaname, that's weird." 

Kaname: "It's fine, just do it. I'll give it to you for today." 

Kaname didn't say anything more but sighed again and sipped his glass. 

I left the bar, wondering about Kaname's behavior. 

When I went outside, a pleasant breeze was blowing. 

(Ahh, that feels good.) 

Come to think of it, the vague feeling of unease I had when I told her about the omiai has completely disappeared. 

(Okay! Let's go home.) 

I started walking through the streets of Kichijoji. She was waiting for me at home. Thinking about that made me walk faster. 

Personalmente me gusta mucho esta historia, Masaomi no es un personaje especialmente prominente y nunca hace ningun movimiento romantico sobre Ema. Claro esta, es mucho mayor que ella lol, pero tiene una personalidad gentil e inocente hasta cierto punto. Me inspira mucha confianza 🫠 trust issues where?

He añadido ilustraciones del comentario de la ilustradora, no tienen nada que ver con la historia, pero son hermosas.

PDF, japanese text: