#Pre-Buddie

[strawberryspence]

all we see is sky for forever

buckravi friendship with a side of buddie | 9.1k words | teen and up

The doctors start prepping them, as a flood of interns come into the room to watch two grown men be pulled apart like two meats on a stick.

“That x-ray is giving soulmates.” One of the interns says as they inspect the x-ray still hung up on the wall.

“What the hell does giving soulmates mean?” Buck murmurs against Ravi’s shoulder, quiet enough that it’s just for them.

Ravi laughs.

Or: Buck and Ravi get pinned together by a rebar pole. They get a few stitches, a broken arm and a platonic soulmate in exchange.

[fireburningonthedancefloor]

And 17 Seconds

@911fanworksfestival

This is for the Fanworks Festival and is a gift for @pinoruno.

Pre-Buddie | Eddie Diaz POV

Rated: Teen and Up

Summary: 7.5k words

The harness pulled at Buck’s sternum, his head and arms dropped back as water sluiced off his listless body.

It could have looked beautiful, reverential – had there been the golden light of the sun instead of the dark shadows of the rainy night – with his body positioned for a resurrection the way it was.

But Buck was too still. His bright, living energy and mannerisms were missing. He was empty. He was a marionette with cut strings, limp and swaying lightly in the stormy wind.

A cold band locked around Eddie’s heart like a zip tie, forever tightening and impossible to reverse. HIs breath punched out of him for the second time in under a minute.

A desperate guttural scream ripped through the night. “BUCK!”

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Captain Nash, one-eighteen,” Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio. “We have a firefighter down at the MacArthur Park apartment fire. Need additional task force and rescue immediately.”

READ IT HERE ON AO3

[alidravana]

Another drabble!

Really enjoyed the other drabble that I wrote, so was inspired to do this one for a short missing scene from last night's episode (different fandom). Main restriction being only 100 words!

Buck almost ran into Eddie, who had been standing outside of Chris’s door, looking equally devastated as Buck felt.   “Hey,” Buck said softly, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing gently in some poor attempt to offer comfort.  “Let’s go talk,” he added, letting his hand trail down Eddie’s arm, his fingers interlacing in Eddie’s as he pulled him towards the living room.   Buck didn’t think twice about Eddie’s hand in his, and neither did Eddie obviously, neither letting go as they sat on the couch, silent as they contemplated Chris’s startling confessions.   But they would figure it out, together.

[ailelie]

Eddie's Will

Revised lightly and on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55176097

Eddie's relationship with Marisol is getting serious again. She's even moved in and this time they both feel excited and confident in the decision. She isn't Shannon and the relationship isn't quite like what he'd had with Shannon, but Eddie has realized that he cannot keep comparing his relationships to Shannon. Things with Marisol are good. They can be good enough.

But then Chimney and Maddie are in a car accident and, when they're both out of surgery and okay, Buck gently hugs his sister and says he is so glad they're both okay. He says he isn't ready to be a single dad.

And it reminds Eddie of his will. The will he has not changed since adding Buck to it. If anything happens to him, Christopher goes to Buck.

His heart begins to beat a loud question: What about Marisol?

He should change his will, right? His son should go to his partner, right?

But every time Eddie thinks to call his lawyer, he distracts himself. He'll call after the dishes are clean, after this shift is over, after Marisol goes to work. Later. He'll call later.

But he never does and the question never stops echoing.

And then it is 2am at the fire station and he cannot sleep. He's upstairs, at the table, staring down at his hands. He needs to make this phone call. He has no idea why he can't.

Chimney is the one who finds him.

"Practicing waiting up for Chris?" Chimney asks, yawning through the joke.

"Couldn't sleep. Why are you up?"

Chimney slumps into the chair opposite of him. "Jee's been having nightmares for the past week or so. Every night, between 2 and 3 she wakes up screaming. So now I'm waking up even without a distraught toddler."

Eddie frowned. "The car accident?"

"We think so. She saw it on TV. We've talked with a therapist, but Jee's still having a hard time. So why are you up?"

"I need to change my will," Eddie says, too tired to come up another reason. Chimney is the worst person to confide in, but he already suspects what Bobby will say and the idea of talking with Hen makes his stomach curl inward. Hen is too perceptive; Eddie doesn't really want to be seen.

"Why?" Chimney asks.

Eddie explains his current arrangements for Chris and asks, "But it should be Marisol now, right?"

Chimney gives him a long look and then holds out both of his hands palms up. "This--" he says, raising his right hand, "is Buck. And this is Marisol." He raises the left. "Right now you have both in your life."

Eddie nods. "Yes?"

"Right. You only get to keep one. One stays and the other leaves your life forever. You may see each other in passing, but you stop spending time together entirely."

A hint of panic bubbles up through Eddie's chest. This ridiculous dilemma is speaking to a fear he's been refusing to face.

Chimney leans forward, his elbows planted on the table between them. He nods to each hand in turn, "Buck or Marisol: who do you keep?"

"Buck." The answer shoots out of Eddie without a single moment for thought.

Chimney reaches over with his right hand and pats Eddie's forearm. "Don't change your will."

With another yawn and a screech of his chair, Chimney heads back down to the bunks, leaving Eddie in the middle of an epiphany.

He likes Marisol, but he could live without her.

He can't live without Buck. And he doesn't think that's going to change.

So, now 2:30 in the morning and alone in the half-lit room, Eddie does something he hasn't before. He compares his relationship with Buck to his relationship with Shannon. Before everything fell apart, he and Shannon had been a team. They'd felt invincible together, which is one of the reasons Shannon decided against an abortion. Everything fell apart only when they stopped talking, when they stopped having each other's back.

Buck gives him that same feeling of security and possibility.

He and Shannon had also had amazing sex, the kind you only get when you know someone inside and out. He and Buck-- he stops the thought there. Then another treacherous part of him points out that Buck is bi now, he might be interested if he knew Eddie was interested.

If Eddie were--images, fantasies of him and Buck in bed, in the back of an ambulance, in his kitchen, outside under the stars, stream flicker-fast through Eddie's mind until he shuts them down with a damned casserole recipe. Eddie drops his forehead to the table and covers his head with his hands.

He has to break up with Marisol.

[deluweil]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Ravi Panikkar, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Hopeful Ending, Don't worry they'll get together eventually Series: Part 2 of Season 5 Tags - Buddie Feels Summary:

Buck may be used to people leaving - but Eddie is not like other people.

Besides, Eddie is not actually leaving him.

[911ficrecs]

i read a fic a bit back where it was told through like performance reviews. so bobby giving buck performance reviews, about 5 maybe but i’m not sure? it spanned several seasons from when buck started working to i think post lawsuit and now i just can’t find it

thank you!!

i'm thinking it could be this fic?

piece by piece, you filled the holes that were burned in me by Polish_Amber - 21,520, general

Summary: “Great,” Buck groaned, the image of Bobby standing on the rooftop and telling him ‘you’re done’ in that firm, no-nonsense tone filling his mind. He smacked his forehead against the table and groaned again.

A performance review.

Great. Just great.

(He didn’t see Hen and Chimney exchanging knowing smirks and he was still muffling his groans against the table when they went over to the kitchen to refill their coffee mugs and had a hushed conversation:

“Should we tell him that Bobby also asks for feedback?”

“Nah,” Hen replied mischievously. “I kind of want to hear what he’ll come up with on the spot.”)

--

5 times Bobby has feedback for Buck during his annual review, and the one time Buck gets a perfect score and has some feedback of his own.

(Or, the progression of Buck and Bobby's relationship as told by annual performance reviews.)

[mumucow]

If only I loved you less

Ship: Buck/Tommy; Pre-Buddie

Word Count: 5k

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

“Still, you should be dancing here with her and…” Buck stopped himself from saying the rest and Eddie hated that his best friend did that with him, he wanted nothing more than to give Buck a safe space. “And not with you?” Eddie knew Buck too damn well but Buck still seemed surprised that Eddie knew what he had been thinking. “It’s also fun to dance with friends. Besides, I clearly need to teach you so you won’t destroy Tommy’s feet.” That ripped a laugh out of Buck that went through his whole body and even made Eddie shake with it and join the laughter. “I just…I’m really happy for you, Buck.” Eddie let his eyes find Buck’s, he knew it was a dangerous thing to do, that it could give all of his feelings away but how could he not look at Buck’s eyes? See all the happiness and hope there, all the love he was always willing to give. It was hypnotizing. “I’m proud of you, for finding yourself and not being afraid of it. For searching your happiness and not being scared of chasing it, even if you needed a little push.” Eddie smiled softly. +++ Or Eddie is a good best friend while still pining

AO3 Link

[satashiiwrites]

Snippet Sunday

Taggged by @outtoshatter for a snippet sunday. Sorry I’ve been largely absent (job offer negotiations suck).

Tagging @tkwritesdumbassassins @monsterrae1 @westernlarch @rosieposiepuddingnpie @whimsyswastry @missanniewhimsy and whoever else wants to play along.

Snippet sunday graphic by radio chatter

Title: Alley With a View, chapter 2

Fandom: 911

Pairing: pre-buddie

Tags/warnings: Hitchcock murder mystery aka Rear Window. Buck isn’t a Hitchcock blonde and Eddie’s no femme fatale. Buck is laid up and bored, so he’s taken to window watching. First draft.

A slightly rough palm cups his cheek, thumb rubbing against his cheekbone and the rim of the orbit bone to press slightly against his birthmark in a caress that makes Buck want to sigh it’s so gentle.  He’s warm from falling asleep in the sun of his balcony and imagines it’s Eddie’s mouth kissing him but he knows it’s just his mind playing tricks on him so he refuses to wake.  

“Buck?” he hears Eddie call his name just how he always wants as he slips more deeply into sleep. Fond but with a lingering ache of want that Buck feels the twin of in his bones. “Cariño?”

He wishes Eddie would call him pet names like sweetheart.  In his darker moments, he wonders if Eddie prefers Spanish endearments like cariño or tesoro or if he’d stick to English like babe or the more old fashioned, darling? Buck’s spine used to melt when he heard some of the locals flirting in Spanish in Peru and every time Eddie gets distracted talking to Abuela or Christopher, sometimes his voice drops when he speaks in Spanish and it does things to Buck’s heart that makes it twist in his chest. 

“Babe?  Buck?”

The hand migrates from his face down his neck to squeeze his shoulder and give it a little shake. 

“Buck?”  Eddie calls his name, much louder than before.  “Wake up sleepy head—you fell asleep in the sun and you’re sunburnt.”

“Eds?” Buck stammers as he opens his eyes, realizing Eddie is really here and he’s not dreaming.  

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[braisedhoney]

fighting back? against who? they're so happy—they've been waiting for you.

you are wonderful. don't you know that?

bonus: they play sims together :)

[sp0o0kylights]

Give meee: an Eddie who went into a small little bookshop on an Indie trip and stumbled across an in person fandom meeting. 

It's mostly Star Trek, and also mostly women, but the stories they have are nothing like Eddie's ever read. 

He's barely a teenager, and already protective of himself and his real identity--but everything he's ever wanted is written down, right here, on a little zine with Kirk and Spock doodled on the cover. 

They’re not--it’s not obvious, that they’re what he is, but the story itself is blatant and Eddie ends up being so obviously close to tears, he accidentally outs himself without ever saying a word. 

(He also ends up on the mailing list, then being sent home with several hand printed copies of all kinds of zines.) 

Eddie would remain on this list well past his third senior year in high school. 

Past bats, and Vecna and Steve fucking Harrington. 

Flash forward to his first apartment.The tiny one he shares with Steve when they followed Nancy and Robin to college. 

Steve knows Eddie’s gay. 

Or rather, Steve has been told, but Eddie's still pretty clammed up about it. He's not yet where Robin is, ready to bemoan her loveless existence while draped over their crappy, thrifted couch.

He makes jokes and he flirts and he absolutely says things he shouldn't, but none of it is real. 

It's flash. Showmanship. 

It's the persona that yes, is him, but Eddie consciously built it. There’s nothing soft or gooey there, nothing anyone can use to hurt him. 

So when he comes home and sees that plain, padded envelope with the neatly printed label on the counter, torn wide open and flat without its contents?

 Eddie panics. 

His heart thunders in his chest, vision tunneling as adrenaline kicks through him. 

He wants to bolt-- should bolt--except ever since he almost died his brain no longer obeys him. 

Not when it comes to running, anyway. 

Instead it fights him to a standstill, freezing his feet right to the living room floor. 

The urge is still there. 

To run, and save face the cowards way. 

Vanish before Steve could get at a part of him that had once kept Eddie out of Wayne’s trailer for two days, until the old man had hunted him down and made him come home, huffing about how he’d love Eddie no matter what but he better never disappear like that again. 

(Which Eddie did anyway, and of everything that happened with Vecna, it’s that he regrets the most. The stories he heard of Wayne putting up posters. Squaring off with angry, too-righteous townies, and--)

A sniffle jerks him out of his thoughts. 

Eddie gasps, entirely unsure of when he stopped breathing. Stumbles back and turns, right in time for Steve to come out of his room and amble down their hallway. 

One hand rubs at his eyes, and the other is--the other has…

Eddie identifies the cheaply printed, stapled zine immediately. It's one he's wanted to read for a while now, solely because it features a story about Kirk and Spock being stuck in a cave together on a planet that has  bat-like, vicious animals on it. 

Kirk gets bitten after something goes wrong with the transporter and, look, it’s carthiatic okay!? Sue a guy for wanting to read a romance about a situation he identifies with! 

Steve looks up from the zine and startles. 

For a second his eyes go dark and flat, the same way Eddies and Robins and Nancy's and everyone's does when caught off guard. 

It's gone in a flash though, Steve visibly relaxing when he clocks that it's just Eddie. 

He keeps the zine pressed to his sweater clad chest,  and huffs out a laugh that's half forced and half pure relief.

“Fuck Eds, you scared me! I didn’t know you could be quiet.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie manages, voice sounding totally and absolutely normal and not at all ten octaves higher than it usually is. 

They stare at each other for a second. Long enough that Steve's eyebrows crinkle in the middle, which is the first hint that he’s beginning to worry, and Eddie really cannot handle Steve being worried right now.  

“What's--” Eddie’s voice cracks and he coughs to recover. “what's that?” 

Steve frowns at him for a moment, until Eddie gestures at the zine in his hands. 

“Oh!”

Steve holds it up, as if to show it off. 

“It's a little book Robin got in the mail. It has a bunch of stories in it. They're normally boring as fuck but this one's from Star Trek.” 

Hearing the words ‘Star Trek’ out of Steve’s mouth shouldn’t be weird, not anymore, when Eddie and Dustin have been on a two man mission to nerdify Harrington as much as possible, but it still kicks like a mule to hear him say such things without any prompting. 

“You know what Star Trek is?”

“Eddie,” Steve tuts, tongue clicking in his mouth. “everyone knows what Star Trek is. It’s nerd shit, but like, old nerd shit. My grandparents used to watch it when I stayed over. This?” 

 He shakes the zine, so hard Eddie wants to snatch it away from him.

 “This isn't nerd shit. This is excellent.”

Steve gives the zine an appreciative glance and hell, maybe Eddie accidentally walked into another dimension. 

He’s been trying to get Steve to read more, rediscover the joys of books the public school system does its best to destroy, but until now Steve hasn’t really taken to it. 

Enjoys when Eddie reads aloud sometimes, and has started to bug Robin to do it for him too, but otherwise?

Eddie’s nerve seen him with anything that had the written word on it that wasn’t a cooking or car related magazine. 

“Honestly,” Steve’s saying, “I think Robs fucked up, this isn't her style at all. She’s gonna be pissed.” 

He eyes the thing appreciatively, like the gift it is. 

“I'm stealing it the second she figures that out.” He adds decisively. 

“You like it?” Eddie asks. 

“Mmm.” 

“Even though it's--it's got…Kirk…” 

Steve's frowning at him again. “What?” 

“It's queer man. It's really queer.” 

Steve peers at him, the crinkle back in his eyebrows. 

“I know. Wait, how do you--” 

And well. It’s now or never. 

“It's mine.” Eddie says in a rush.

“No it's not.” Steve scoffs, and okay, maybe this is a dream. Eddie pinched himself twice already, but perhaps a third time would wake him up?

(It does not.)

“it was even addressed to Robin. Well,” Steve has one hand on a hip now, his default position when arguing, “Robbie, but she goes by that sometimes.” 

Which Robin does, but not in the fucking mail.

Without a word, Eddie turns and goes for the envelope the zine came in. 

Steve follows, invading Eddie’s space to peer over his shoulder (and that’s Eddie’s fault too, that closeness, but he didn’t think it would be turned on him in a moment like this--) 

There's a sticker on the envelope’s label.

 It’s barely hanging on, half of it curled into the air.  Round and yellow, with little black lines, it becomes immediately obvious that one of Robin's smiley face stickers has migrated again. 

They're all over the apartment. Remnants of a phase she went through after she stole a roll of them from her and Steve’s job at a local toy store.

This one had clearly jumped ship from its original spot (likely on the ceiling somewhere), and was now firmly over the E in Eddie's name. 

‘Ddie’ still isn't exactly ‘Obbie’  but--

Steve leans around, snatching the envelope up and bringing it close to his face. 

Far too close, like he can't read it, eyes squinting as he examines the label--and suddenly Eddie knows exactly what happened. 

He laughs, an explosion of noise that's half hysterical and half disbelief. 

Steve looks at him. 

“What?” 

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, one finger jabbing in the air in the vague direction of Steve’s nose. “I told you you needed glasses!” 

“I do not!” Steve protests immediately, but his eyes are darting around the envelope. 

He’s scrambling to figure out what Eddie’s seeing, trying desperately to find a hole that can prove himself right. 

Eddie decides to help him, by plucking the smiley sticker off the envelope. 

“See?” He jeers, and shit okay, maybe his life isn’t over just yet. “It says Eddie, not Robbie!” 

“You guys have got to start using your government names for this shit.” Steve bitches, but it’s weak.

Eddie feels a grin coming on, and lets it overtake his face. 

“So...Kirk and Spock huh?” 

“They’re cute.” Steve defends instantly, before sighing his defeat and tossing the envelope on the table. 

The zine he keeps in his hands. 

Eddie crosses his arms and leans against their rickety table. “Even though they’re both guys?” 

“I thought we were past this!” Steve whines. “I went to a gay bar with Robin last weekend!” 

Which is news to Eddie. 

“You didn’t invite me?” He gasps, feigning hurt by putting a hand over his heart. 

Truthfully he still hasn’t fully recovered--is play acting himself, almost, but is rapidly coming around to the idea of Steve appreciating queer fanfiction. 

“We did!” Steve rolls his eyes so dramatically his whole head moves. “We absolutely did, You said,” 

Here Steve’s voice pitches into a mockery of Eddie’s  that he will not give him points for, even if it is a little hilarious, “Me? At some loser bar? Fuck no, I’ve got a campaign to write. Starbuck, don’t you have homework?” 

“I didn’t know that was a gay bar!” 

“You did! Robin told you!” 

“Okay well, I wasn’t listening!”  

“Clearly. I keep telling you we need a fucking--system or, I don’t know, a code word or something!”  

“Yeah well, when you wanna make us a safe word for conversations, big boy, you let me know.” 

They’re both laughing a little now, this argument veering into familiar territory, with Eddie not really listening and Steve mocking him for it later. (As well as vice versa, with startling regularity.) 

“You really like it though?”  Eddie says after the laughter winds down, gesturing to the zine still clutched in Steve’s hand. 

“Yeah.” Steve confirms, easy as he’s said anything else. Like this isn’t embarrassing, or almost worse than the time Wayne found Eddie’s porno mags and alphabetized them as a joke. 

“It's part of a mail tree. I’m supposed to send it on to the next person when I’m done with it. I make copies though,” Eddie rushes to add, because Steve is now clutching the little booklet to his chest in horror, as if Eddie was about to rip it out of his hands. “If you like I’ll show you my other ones?” 

Steve eases his grip, giving Eddie the little smile he makes that makes his stomach flip. 

“That’d be cool.” 

(Later, Steve pokes at Eddie’s thigh from where they’re both sprawled on Eddie’s bed, Steve having switched the new zine out for one of Eddie’s copies. “Are you going to laugh at me if I ask you to read some of these aloud?” 

“Only if you don’t laugh when I ask you to take me to that gay bar.” 

“Deal, but on the grounds you’re barred from making fun of my flirting attempts. Robin doing it was bad enough.” 

“Well you deserve it if you’re hitting on women at a gay bar, Stevie.” 

“I wasn't hitting on women you asshole.” Steve says and oh.

Oh.

Eddie feels the floor drop out from under him for the second time that day. 

At least this time it’s not fear that thunders through him, but possibility.) 

[notllorstel]

Coming in with a steel chair

FROM A CORPSE OF A GOD SHE RISES

SHE’S BAD

SHE’S MAD

RAGE GOD 2.0

[amidnightjen]

“A toothbrush?” Hen repeats, eyebrows high and tone extremely dubious.

“A toothbrush,” Eddie confirms.

“Your girlfriend broke up with you because of a toothbrush?” Ravi clarifies, he’s not the only one seeking that clarification either, Eddie can tell he beat Chim to the question only because he didn’t have his mouth full.

“Yes,” Eddie confirms (again), sounding a little more disgruntled this time about it.

Chim finally swallows his mouthful to ask, “Is this like a metaphor?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know.” And he doesn’t, that’s the thing. He’s got no damn idea why a toothbrush (of all things) had Marisol breaking things off before they’d even really gotten started.

“I’m going to need more than this,” Hen says. “What kind of toothbrush?”

Exasperated, all Eddie can say is, “I don’t know - a toothbrush.”

“I mean,” Chim says thoughtfully, “did she not like the colour? Were the bristles too hard? Maybe it wasn’t about the toothbrush but the toothpaste on the brush - do you have weird toothpaste taste?”

That earns Chim a confused look from everyone but he just shrugs which Eddie finds fair because he honestly doesn’t know. “I don’t have weird toothpaste,” Eddie defends.

“I like your toothpaste,” Buck announces, dropping down into the chair beside Eddie. “Why are we talking about Eddie’s toothpaste?”

“We’re talking about Eddie’s toothbrush,” Hen clarifies and even as she does, she looks like she can’t believe that’s a sentence she’s found herself saying.

“Eddie’s toothbrush?” Buck repeats, sounding just as confused as when he thought they were talking about toothpaste.

“Not my toothbrush,” Eddie groans. “It wasn’t even mine!”

“Wait,” and this comes from Bobby who looks as though he can’t believe he’s joining in this conversation, “Marisol broke up with you because of Christopher’s toothbrush?”

“Marisol broke up with you?” Buck says, “Sorry man.”

Eddie waves off Buck’s words, he’s not all that broken up about it honestly, just genuinely stuck on how a toothbrush could possibly be reason enough to break up with someone. “No it wasn’t Chris’ toothbrush, Jesus.”

“I’m so confused,” Buck said.

“Me too,” added Ravi.

But Hen, Hen had a look on her face and there was a note in her voice he couldn’t identify as she asked, “Whose toothbrush was it?”

“Buck’s.”

And Eddie has no idea why that is suddenly explanation enough for everyone.

Well except Buck.

[oshaskell]

in their own private world.

[ailelie]

Lucky (s2 9-1-1 ficcish not!fic)

Before Chris meets Buck, back at the school where the accommodations are lacking, the kids are having an argument at lunch over who has the most luck.

"Nuh-uh," Bryan L. says. "I have two dads. That makes me the luckiest."

"How so?" Amalie asks.

"Because I don't have a mommy?" Bryan L. says slowly like Amalie is very dumb. "Mommies leave. Daddies don't. Everyone knows that."

"My momma is the best momma," Amalie protests.

"Doesn't mean nothing. Grant understands. His mama died."

The table looks down at Grant who nods. "I don't remember her much, but my dad says she was the best."

"My mom was the best, too," Christopher pipes up, glad to have something to contribute. "But she left me and my dad alone."

Bryan L. points at him. "See? Chris gets it. If your mom is still here now, she just hasn't left yet. Daddies, though? They don't leave and I've got two."

"I wish I had two dads," Grant says.

Christopher nods. He wants that now, too. He and his dad could use some luck.

"Well," Amalie says, tossing her hair. "I'm going to get two daddies too and I'll do it first."

Then they argue about how many parents a kid can have.

Then there's an earthquake.

And then Chris meets Buck.

Buck doesn't talk to him like he's a baby or act like he's weak because of his CP. And his name even sounds like 'luck.'

This is, Chris decides, an Act of God like his friend's mom back in Texas says all the time.

"You should be my daddy," he says at a red light.

He hears his dad choke and cough a bit and Buck's smile fades. "I think you've already got a pretty great dad, Chris."

Christopher rolls his eyes. "I know that. My dad is the best."

"Then why?" Buck asks, glancing at his dad.

"Because, I want two dads like Bryan L. has. Even Amalie whose mom hasn't left yet wants two dads now. Bella has four parents, so Amalie thinks she should be allowed three."

"Why?" his dad asks, glancing at Chris in the rear-view mirror.

"Because mommies leave and daddies don't," Chris says. "And we decided the luckiest kids have two daddies. And Buck sounds like luck and he's nice so he should be my dad, too." It is a little embarrassing to have to explain all of this. Christopher thought adults were supposed to be smart.

"Right," his dad says slowly. He and Buck trade a glance.

No one says anything for a second. Then Buck says, "Have you been to the zoo yet?"

Chris shakes his head. "If you were my dad you could take me. Can I call you 'dad'?"

"Uh, let's start with 'Buck.'"

Chris shrugs. "Okay." Then he grins. "Amalie is going to be so mad. She told everyone she was going to get another daddy first. But I beat her."

His dad presses one hand against his face, says a word Christopher isn't allowed to repeat, and finishes driving them home.

[capseycartwright]

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me."

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

ao3 link

November 1. The date is not one Eddie is likely to ever forget. Even before Shannon died, Dia de los Muertos wasn’t a holiday he ever missed - as a child, he would help his abuelo make their altar every year, a picture of his abuelo front-and-centre, Edmundo Diaz Senior, the man he’d been named for, looking sharp in his suit as he looked out from the glass picture frame where he’d lived all of Eddie’s life. He’d never met his grandfather - only carried his name. 

Over the years, more faces found a home on the altar - friends, and family, time a fickle thing and the only certainty about life that it ended. Death was familiar, a constant in a world Eddie felt like he could never quite figure out.

After Shannon died -

The first November 1 after she died, Eddie built his own altar for the first time, explaining the tradition to Christopher. They had done it every year since, Christopher’s face in a set line as he made sure everything was absolutely perfect. No less than his mother deserved, Eddie knew. 

Shannon hadn’t grown up with the traditions of All Saints and All Souls, but she’d embraced them wholly when she and Eddie had gotten married, making the altar herself when Eddie wasn’t there. It felt right to honour her with the traditions she had loved herself. That was why Eddie had taken to adding a picture of Shannon’s mother to the altar too, when she died the year after Shannon did. Breast cancer, they’d said, but Eddie knew heartbreak had been the thing that had pushed her over the edge.

Every year, Eddie celebrated Shannon, and her mother, his grandfather, the people he’d served with who had died - 

Except this year.

Eddie felt bad. Really, he did - he was going to build the altar himself, but when his dad had texted a picture of the Diaz family altar, Shannon front and centre, Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to make his own. Shannon was being remembered - that was what mattered. He’d gone to her grave instead, only half listening as the priest had said mass over the graveyard, praying for the salvation of the souls who were buried there.

Grief was a funny old beast, Eddie knew. Grief had made him do crazy things - grief had driven his son to Texas, for crying out loud. The grief didn’t hit standing by her grave, but it did when dusk descended over Eddie’s house, and the absence of an altar began to feel like one of the worst things he’d done amongst a year of terrible decision-making.

Maybe he should have taken Buck up on his offer of coming over to make an altar with him, but Eddie had asked enough of his best friend in the last four months. Eddie knew Tommy had bought them tickets for some movie Buck was dying to see, and as much as Eddie was a near-professional third wheel now, he didn’t think he’d make a good addition to the back row of their local movie theatre.

Eddie winced as he looked at the candle he’d swiped from the dining table. “It’s cedarwood,” he said, apologetic as he lit it, setting the candle down in front of the framed picture of Shannon that lived on their fireplace. “I know you hated cedarwood, but I’m working with what I’ve got here, Shan.”

Eddie pressed his cheek against his folded arms, taking one, two, three shaky breaths. “I really struggled after you left, Shannon. I don’t think I really even realised how much until now - and it’s not just because you were gone, but you were gone and you wanted a divorce, and I - suddenly, I was never going to get answers.”

He’d been talking about Shannon a lot in therapy, lately, unpacking all his complicated feelings during his excruciating weekly hour with Frank. 

“I don’t know if I even wanted to stay married to you,” Eddie admitted, the candle flickering in the growing dark of his living room. That was terrifying to admit out loud - that even if she had stayed alive, he and Shannon wouldn’t have made it work. There were a thousand reasons why, and Eddie could sit, and list them all, but one was more important than the others. 

“I think I’m gay, Shannon,” Eddie had never said it out loud before, despite the thought never quite leaving his mind, Pandora’s box open, now. “If you were here, I bet you’d have such a laugh with that - not like, in a bad way. Just - I think you’d find it funny, that your mom’s gaydar was right after all.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought himself. Shannon’s mom had been the bitchiest woman he’d ever met, and Eddie loved her for it. 

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” Eddie paused. “But with you, most of all. I’m sorry - for my part in it all. I thought I was doing the right thing, joining the army. I just wanted to take care of you and Chris, and I didn’t see any other way out. I know it was the wrong choice - but I really thought it was the right one. You know?”

Shannon’s picture stayed silent. 

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. For the life she might have had, if not for the car crash - Eddie sometimes liked to indulge himself and think of an alternative life where Shannon had survived, where they got divorced, and learned how to co-parent, and maybe they found their way back to being friends. It was a nice thought.

Eddie wiped roughly at his eyes. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.” 

With a shaky hand, Eddie pressed a kiss to the framed picture, setting Shannon back down with the candle. It was a half-assed altar, and somehow, that made Eddie feel worse. He scrambled to his feet, heading for his bedroom, and the box of Shannon’s belongings he knew was stashed at the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t kept much for himself - most of it was for Christopher - but he had a few things. There was a necklace in there, he knew that Eddie had bought her for their first wedding anniversary. It was a cheap thing, because they were always broke, but it was something of hers - it would make it a more acceptable offering.

Eddie couldn’t help the breath that hitched in his throat as he spotted what was in his bedroom. A butterfly, resting on his pillowcase, on the side he always slept on. “Hey, little guy,” he whispered softly, not wanting to startle the tiny creature. His abuela loved butterflies - they were spirits of the people you loved, who had left, coming back to visit. Eddie felt slightly ridiculous, but he said it anyway. “Shannon?”

The butterfly didn’t move. 

“I’m so glad Christopher isn’t here, because he would really think I’ve lost it,” Eddie crouched by the side of his bed, holding out a finger. “Hey. Is this your way of telling me it’s okay to let you go? Did you hear all of that?” 

The butterfly moved, tiny wings fluttering as it came to land on Eddie’s outstretched finger. 

“I hope that’s a yes,” Eddie knew tears were streaming down his cheeks, now, but he didn’t want to freak the butterfly out by wiping them away. “How did you get in here, eh? None of the windows are open.”

If Eddie Diaz believed in a higher power, still, he’d blame God - or the universe. 

“Let’s get you outside,” Eddie said, and the butterfly flapped, a little, coming to land on the windowsill instead. “Yeah? You’re ready to go?”

The butterfly flapped in response again.

“I think I’m ready to let you go, this time,” Eddie admitted, carefully unlatching the window. “We’re going to be okay, me and Christopher. I promise. You can go. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

The butterfly seemed to pause, for a second, before it flew out the open window, disappearing into the beginnings of the evening. Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, tears pouring down his cheeks, rolling off the curve of his chin and onto his shirt, but the next thing he knew, he could hear - 

“Buck?”

“Eddie! You’re a firefighter - how long have you left that candle unattended, huh? Eddie - Eddie, where are you, man?”

Buck appeared in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, a family-sized bag of sour patch kids tucked under one arm. “Do I need to teach you the basics of fire safety all over again?” he huffed, pausing as he noticed Eddie’s tears. “Eddie - you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie offered his best friend a teary smile. For the first time, Eddie might actually mean that yes. “I’m okay. There - there was a butterfly,” he explained, gesturing at the window vaguely. “I had to let it out.”

“A butterfly?” Buck looked confused. 

“My abuela always said butterflies were the spirits of people who’ve died,” Eddie explained. “I lit a candle for Shannon, and there was a butterfly just sitting on my pillow, when I came in here. It’s…” he paused. “It’s stupid.”  

Buck’s face softened. ‘It’s not stupid,” he shook his head. “You think it was Shannon?”

Eddie glanced at the window again. “I hope it was,” he admitted, taking a deep breath before he closed the window. That in itself felt like symbolism, Eddie decided - a closing of a chapter he should have let go a long time ago. That’s what he needed it to be, at least. “Wait - aren’t you meant to be on a date?”

Bcuk shrugged. “We changed the tickets to tomorrow,” he explained, holding up the bag of candy. “You said you weren’t going to make an altar, and I didn’t want to let you skip out on it. These were her favourite, right?” 

Eddie could cry all over again. Buck, like Shannon, hadn’t grown up with Dia de los Muertos, but here he was, with a bag of Eddie’s dead wife’s favourite candy, ready to sit in Eddie’s grief with him. Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d done in a previous life to deserve a friend like Evan Buckley, but he thanked whatever God or universe was listening for giving him Buck anyway.

“She’d eat so many she’d give herself a stomach-ache,” Eddie grinned, and the memory didn’t hurt, the way it used to, the grief a dull ache that he could grow around, now. He leaned into the embrace Buck offered, breathing in the familiar cedarwood scent of Buck’s favourite cologne. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Buck hummed, pressing a ridiculous, loud, smacking kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie loved him. “But I’m buying you one of those electric candle warmers if you’re going to keep leaving candles unattended, Eddie.” 

Eddie was mostly listening as he let Buck guide him back to the living room, the candle still flickering golden in front of Shannon’s picture. It was the same one he’d put on her memorial programme - bright, and beautiful, just like she’d always been when she was alive. 

Buck grinned, as he set a piece of candy in front of her picture. “Berry,” he explained. “My favourite,” he added, tossing a handful of the sour sweets into his own mouth. 

They sat, the television playing reruns of a procedural in the background, eating candy until their stomachs hurt, the candle burning all the way to the end. 

The butterfly didn’t come back.

Buck stayed.

Eddie was ready to move on.

(Buck stayed.)