#also i should probably go back and check exactly what bucks loft looks to see if this even works like but oh well

[autisticjoshrusso]

WIP Wednesday

It's the closest to being finished so I will share a little snippet of Sunset Skylane, which is the direct sequel to Consolation Prize that I told myself I wasn't going to write and then did anyway.

-

...eventually the downsides of packing so many people into such a small space began to weigh on him. The room was too loud, all the overlapping voices impossible to hear clearly nor properly block out, and so many bodies together had surely risen the temperature a few degrees at least. It was all a little too overwhelming, and soon Josh found himself alone out on the balcony, taking some steadying breaths against the railing.

The silent reprieve would end all too soon, however, as the delicate sound of a knuckle rapping against the open doorframe drew his attention. When he spotted Tommy standing there, a complicated tangle of feelings rushed to the forefront of his mind, a thousand different greetings warring for space in his throat.

“It’s an open balcony, you don’t have to knock.”

He hadn’t expected the somewhat scathing, dry observation to be the remark that won out, but it wasn’t as if he could take it back once it had already been said, so instead he doubled down with a roll of his eyes and turned his head back towards the horizon.

“Didn’t wanna sneak up on you,” Tommy explained, tension plainly visible in the way he held his arms close to his body, shoulders slightly raised in defense, like a turtle ready to vanish into his shell at a moment’s notice. He stepped further out onto the platform, stopping just shy of leaning against the railing himself. “Figured now would be a good time to talk.”

“About what?” Josh answered blithely, flashing him a quick smile as charming as it was fake. A scowl creased Tommy’s face, exasperated sigh slipping past tight lips.

“You know about what,” he replied flatly. He shifted closer to the railing, supporting his weight against it with an elbow and hip as he craned his neck slightly to put his eyes in Josh’s line of sight. It was Josh’s turn to scowl at the motion, breaking the unwanted eye contact and putting some space between them by pivoting on one hand to lean his back against the railing instead.

Still, he conceded the point, letting his shoulders angle towards Tommy slightly, gaze flicking towards him enough to acknowledge that the other man had his attention. “What is there to say?” he asked, not really expecting an answer as he continued, voice laced with exasperation of his own. “We had a one-night stand, a casual hookup between two consenting adults. We don’t need to make this into a whole awkward thing, okay?”

-

Anyone who sees this can participate idk who to tag once again so <3 Hope yall like the preview.

[hmslusitania]

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

[on-maars]

Wonder

Just a soft lil thing I wrote in one sitting, hope you’ll like it. 

Read it on AO3.

The Grant-Nash household is loud. Louder than usual, that is. Conversations flow smoothly, moving from one topic to the next rapidly. That makes Eddie smile. The last few months were quite the challenge, in every way, for everyone.

Whether it be Athena and Bobby’s marriage hanging on by a thread, Maddie suffering from postpartum depression, Karen and Hen getting used to Nia’s absence, it was enough for everyone to feel a bit under pressure, feel overwhelmed, afflicted, weighed down.

And there was also that day. That particular day. Still on Eddie’s mind, all the time. No matter how hard the people surrounding him try to forget about the whole thing.

There seems to be a common agreement between all his colleagues, all his friends. A silent promise everyone made to each other. A pact. That day’s here and it happened but god forbid we dare to acknowledge it.

And Eddie gets it. That day was a living hell. It was traumatic. For him, for Buck, and for Christopher. And don’t get him wrong he doesn’t particularly like to be reminded of that day either, doesn’t particularly like to mention it, let alone talk about it. But sometimes he wishes he could. Sometimes he wishes he had that possibility.

But he doesn’t. He knows he doesn’t.

He tried.

He tried bringing up the topic in the conversations. He tried making a few innuendos here and there, hoping Buck would catch up. He tried being patient, let his friend heal first. In vain. And Eddie knows Buck and him are not really the type to sit down and talk about their feelings, hell good communications skills don’t exactly run in his family either but he knows how to make an effort every now and then. He learned it the hard way. Raising a kid on your own doesn’t exactly give you a choice in the matter.

And yet, Eddie still smiles. Because they’re here now. They’re alive. Celebrating.

Bobby’s here, talking with Michael with hushed voices, David standing a few feet away with Albert, keeping a close watch on the barbecue while glancing at the two of them with what Eddie can only guess is an exasperated expression painted all over his face.

Hen, Karen and Athena are both seated at the table, seemingly engaged in a very lively conversation. Chimney is resting on a nearby chair, a very fast asleep Jee-Yun in his arms, both of them being subject to a series of pictures taken by May.

And then there’s Buck, sprawled on the grass, Christopher, Harry and Denny by his side, all laughing to tears. This brings a smile to Eddie’s lips.

“So I heard my brother wasn’t exactly planning on leaving you guys anytime soon?” Maddie asks next to him. “From what Albert told Chim, he’s got the loft all by himself for at least two months.”

Eddie chuckles and looks down at his hands, his cheeks turning red. There’s an implicit question behind Maddie’s words, an implicit question waiting to be answered. It’s not the first time Eddie has to face these hidden allusions from Maddie and as his eyes are being drawn to Buck once again, he realizes he doesn’t really mind.

“Yeah, he- he’s staying put.” Eddie admits. “After… After everything that happened, I think we all needed to-” He starts, but marks a pause. “Christopher needed him there.”

“Christopher’s the only one who needed him there?” Maddie asks and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat.

He shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, Eddie hid his true feelings behind his son countless times in the past but it’s the first time he’s actually being confronted about it. It’s easy, hiding himself behind Christopher. It’s comfortable. And it makes him look like a great dad while really his son is just a thousand times braver than he ever will be. That’s not a secret to anyone.

Still, he finds himself saying:

“No.” Maddie looks up at him, smiling softly. “No, I needed him there as well.” Eddie finally admits. “I needed him to stay.” He adds. “I’ll always need him to stay.” He says more specifically, averting his eyes.

“Does he know?” She asks.

“That I want him to stay?” Eddie darts his eyes towards her but only for a second. He looks away just as fast. “Yeah. Yeah I think I made that pretty clear.” He chuckles, thinking back of all the times he had to physically drag Buck away from the front door, making it clear that he’s not “overstaying his welcome” or whatever Buck’s got stuck in his mind.

“No, I mean-” Maddie’s eyes shuttle back and forth on Eddie’s face, as if battling whether to be upfront or leave the conversation hanging. Eventually, she sighs, takes a deep breath and adds, without batting an eye: “Does he know you’re in love with him?”

Eddie blinks a few times, opening his mouth to say something but closing it the next second. There’s no need to deny it – he thinks. Not after this past few months, not after what happened. Not after that day. There’s no need to deny it because his love for Buck, once so quiet, so cautious, so calm, is now so big, so vibrant, Eddie might as well take his heart and put it on a plate for everyone to see.

“I- I’m not sure.” He says and his eyes are drawn to Buck once again. His best-friend is still seated on the grass but this time he's holding his niece in his arms, Christopher is touching her hands very carefully, like he’s afraid she might break. Buck looks up at Eddie and for a few seconds, their eyes meet. Buck has that soft expression on his face, that soft expression only reserved to the two most important people in his life. And Eddie smiles, because how can he not?

“He must know.” He convinces himself out loud. “There’s no way he doesn’t kn-”

“Did you tell him?” Maddie insists. “Did you tell him these exact same words?” She asks. “Did you tell him to his face?”

“No.” Eddie admits.

“Then he doesn’t know.” She says. “Eddie, it doesn’t matter how many signs you throw at him. It doesn’t matter if you think there’s no need to say anything because he’s got to be blind not to see it. It doesn’t matter because at the end of the day it’s Buck we’re talking about, it’s my baby brother and you and I both know he’s not going to let himself believe it until there’s not a single doubt in his mind that this is what’s happening, that you’re in it just as much as he is.”

“I-” Eddie starts but looks down, biting his lower lip. “I know.”

“And unless you tell him to his face that you’re in love with him then-”

“Then, the doubts won’t stop.” Eddie finishes for her, his eyes still fixated on Buck as a small sigh escapes his lips.

“The doubts won’t stop.” Maddie agrees.

“It’s just-” Eddie’s hand fidgets with his keys in his jean’s pocket, nervously. “The way he loves. It’s always so…”

“Loud?” Maddie offers and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

He nods. “Yeah. Loud. And- and carefree. And you know, I- it's a good thing. I mean I’ve always-” He starts, and sighs, closing his eyes fiercely. “It’s a good thing.” He repeats. “But you’d think he has it all figured out.” He says, his eyes catching Buck’s gaze once again. He seems tired. Eddie can see it by the way his lips stretch up at the edges in an effort to smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But it’s mostly the dark rings under his eyes that leads Eddie in the right direction. Buck thinks the others can’t see them, he thinks he can conceal them by acting overly excited, overly cheerful, and maybe it goes unnoticed by the others but not to Eddie. Never to Eddie.

“He has a big heart.” Maddie eventually says, following Eddie’s gaze until her own eyes are fixed on her little brother. “People often mistake it for over-confidence.” She adds. “But the truth is that he’s as terrified as you are. Maybe more.” She marks a pause. “Probably more.”

Eddie nods to himself, his smile getting bigger when he sees Buck standing up straight, crossing the few meters separating him from Eddie and Maddie. He lets himself fall on the chair with a heavy thud, raising his eyes towards Eddie, his smile always so soft, always so gentle. Eddie wants to embrace him and kiss him senseless.

“Hey.” Buck’s voice is hesitant. “Huh Chris asked me if he could stay the night here with Harry and Denny. I said yes. I thought- although I guess I- I guess I should maybe have checked with you first, I’m sor-”

“It’s fine.” Eddie smiles.

“You sure? Because I can-”

“Evan.” Eddie cuts in, and the effect is immediate. Like it always is when he uses Buck’s real name. He whirls his head around and looks at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion in his eyes. Eddie thinks he can see some traces of hope in there, too.

“Didn’t know you had the Evan privileges.” Maddie teases and Buck looks down at his hands with a sheepish smile, blinking a few times like he can’t quite believe it himself.

“Wanna go back home?” Eddie asks. “I’m beat.” He says. It’s a lie. He’s feeling great, and he could probably stay there for a few more hours if he wanted, but that’s not Buck’s case. That’s not Buck’s case and his best-friend is just too damn selfless to say it and would probably be ready to fall asleep on that chair if it meant Eddie was having a good time.

“Oh yeah we can… We can go home.”

They say goodbye to everyone and head out, not before Eddie makes Christopher promise to behave and not give Athena and Bobby too much trouble. He holds him against him for a while, kissing his head and his heart flutters when he sees Buck hugs him just as tight the next second.

When they get to the car, Buck is nervous, his head is resting on the window and his eyes are glancing to Eddie from time to time, his eyebrows squint in concentration, just like when he’s searching the answer to one of Christopher’s math exercise. It’s never a good sign. Eddie knows him well enough to understand that Buck is on the verge of falling into one of these overthinking traps that always seem to be on the lookout for the next opportunity to invade his best-friend’s mind.

The car drive is silent, the atmosphere filled with a sense of irresolution no one dares to question. And Eddie knows all too well that now is probably not the best time to have that conversation, not while driving, not while Buck is in that state. But Maddie’s words are stuck in his head since they left that house and if he doesn’t acknowledge the elephant in the room now, he’s afraid it might take him another two months to have the guts to say it.

“You do know I’m in love with you, right?” He blurts out and Buck whirls his head around so fast Eddie’s afraid he might break his neck. He seems surprised. His eyes are wide open and his mouth is agape, his eyebrows furrowed, his brain probably working too fast for his head to catch up.

“I-” He starts but his voice dies in his throat. “I didn’t- I mean I wasn’t- I wasn’t sure.” Buck stutters, blinking a few times.

“Well, I am.” Eddie says, pretending to be calm about it all while really, his hands hold the wheel so tight his knuckles go white.

“I just-” Buck says, and stays silent for a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “Ever since that day, there were- there were times when I thought that maybe you- But I couldn’t be sure. And you never- you never spoke of it and I-”

“I never spoke of it because you never let me, Buck.” Eddie marks a pause, but speaks again just as fast when he sees the flash of guilt crossing his friend’s eyes. “I don’t blame you.” He reassures him. “I’ve been in your position countless times in the past to know that that day must have been as traumatic for you as it was for me. Maybe even more, I mean I- I was asleep the whole time, after all. You were the one who had to-” Eddie pauses when he sees Buck’s face suddenly contorted with excruciating pain – agony, even – but he pushes through it all the same. “You were the one who had to deal with everything.”

“Eddie, I-”

Eddie bites his lower lip when he sees his best-friend’s eyes already filled with tears.

“Buck, you saved me.” Eddie says, his voice determined.

“No I-” Buck shakes his head. “I let you down.”

“You saved me.” Eddie repeats, with even more vigor. “Evan.” He says. “Look at me.” He adds, glancing at Buck, knowing he now has his full attention. The blue eyes staring back at him are filled with pain, agony, and Eddie knows his friend is back there again, in the streets, watching him bleed to death in front of him.

“I didn’t-” Buck starts and suddenly tears are rolling down his cheeks and his lips are shaking and his shoulders slump alarmingly as ugly sobs start racking his body. He presses his hand through his eyes, as if to hide himself from his best-friend but the noise coming from his mouth is desperate and angry and broken and Eddie doesn’t waste anytime to park his car on the roadside. “You were dead, Eds.”

“Buck.” Eddie breathes. “I wasn’t- you saved me alright?”

“No Eds, you don’t understand, alright? You were dead. You died . In that ambulance. I- I was telling you to hold on but you- you died. For a few seconds Eddie, you- you were dead. You were gone. I thought I had lost you and I couldn’t- I couldn’t-” Another sob racks his body and Eddie wraps his arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer. Buck hides his face on his chest and Eddie holds him close as he cries, his entire body shaking from exhaustion, from all the pressure he contained during this past few months.

“You never told me that.” He eventually says, his own voice shaking.

“Didn’t want to go back there.” Buck answers and his voice is so small Eddie just holds him a little closer, a little tighter, his right hand running through his blonde locks. He presses a small kiss to his head and closes his eyes, letting his forehead rest against his hair. "You were fine and I wanted - I needed - to focus on that."

“I love you.” Eddie tells him. “Buck, how can you think you let me down while you’re literally the only reason I’m sitting in this car next to you? You saved me. You took care of my son. You took care of me . Even when I was being a whiny little shit.” Eddie smiles when a small laugh escapes Buck’s lips. “You did so good. You always do.”

“Wasn’t easy.” Buck teases him but his voice still betrays his true feelings.

“And yet, you stayed.” Eddie reminds him.

“Yeah well…” Buck answers like it’s not a big deal. “Where- where else would I go?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh and presses his lips on Buck’s shoulder when this one buries his face in the crook of his neck, still trying to catch his breath.

“Move in with us.” Eddie finds himself blurting out, causing Buck to sit straight once again, watching him with a bewildered expression on his face. “I mean it.”

“I- what- what about Chris?” Buck asks because of course that’s the first thought that crosses his mind. His son’s well-being.

“What about him?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t- maybe he doesn’t want me there all the time.” Buck starts and frowns when Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, right.” Eddie answers, unimpressed. “That kid would probably kill me if I ever let you go back to your loft and you know it.” He adds. “He adores you, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes dart towards him, his shy and sheepish smile stretching up his lips.

“What about you? Do you want me there?” Buck asks, hesitant.

“Buck I’m the one who asked.” Eddie says. “You’re practically already living with us anyway. Wouldn’t change a single thing. Except that you- well you definitely wouldn’t sleep in the spare room anymore.”

“But I wouldn’t-”

“Buck, can you please stop finding excuses and say yes already?” Eddie asks, exasperated. He still places his right hand behind his neck though, and looks at him dead in the eye when he says these next few words. “I want you there with us. All the time. Every day.”

“Alright.” Buck eventually says. “I- I’ll stay.” He adds.

“Good.” Eddie smiles, and when Buck’s eyes dart towards his lips for just a second, he doesn’t waste any time and crash their lips together in a gentle, soft kiss, tasting Buck’s tears.

“I- I love you too.” Buck says after a few minutes. “I just- just realized I still haven’t said it back.”

“You didn’t have to.” Eddie answers. “I already knew.”

Buck smiles a bit more, but another serious look crosses his face as he bites his lower lip.

“Thank you.” And Eddie heard these words a thousand times before from Buck’s mouth but in that particular moment, they seem to hold more meaning that he can possibly imagine. “For saying it first.”

Eddie intertwines their fingers together and presses a small kiss on Buck’s knuckles, starting the car.

“Anything for you, Evan.” Eddie says and huffs out a small laugh when he hears Buck’s groan resonating in the car. He puts his indicator on and turns his wheel to follow the road back home, his hand still holding Buck’s fingers.

“I-” Buck starts but seems to hesitate. His gaze is stuck on the road, like he’s afraid to meet Eddie’s eyes when he’s going to say these next few words.

“You what?” Eddie encourages him.

“I like it.” Buck says, keeping his voice low. “When you- when you call me Evan.”

“Oh I know.” Eddie teases him.

“You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” He asks him, smiling.

“One hundred percent.” Eddie confirms. “Only way to be sure I’ve got your undivided attention.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Buck exclaims, rolling his eyes at him.

“Maybe later.” Eddie raises his eyebrows in a suggested manner and Buck only scoffs, but Eddie can already see his cheeks turning red.

“Alright alright, eyes on the road, Edmundo .” Buck says playfully and Eddie lets out a laugh. “I love you.” These words seem to slip past Buck’s lips of their own accord.

“Love you more.” Eddie instantly retorts.

“Well I loved you first.” Buck answers.

“Bold assumption you make here, Buckley.”

“Let’s hash that out at home.” Buck tells him, resting his head on the window, his voice tired and his eyes closed.

“Alright.” Eddie answers. “But you and I both know I’m gonna win this round.”

Buck huffs out a laugh and catches Eddie’s hand on the gearshift to intertwine their fingers together, the smile not leaving his face.

“Shut up and drive us home, Diaz.”

“Alright.” Eddie answers, pressing another kiss to Buck’s knuckles. “Let's get you home, Evan.”  

[diazboys]

i like watching the days go by with you | 2k words | buddie | pre-relationship, domestic fluff | ao3

written for Eddie Diaz Week 2021 | Day 2: “This is nice.” + soft

.

A quiet but persistent buzzing noise coming from somewhere behind his head is what startles Eddie awake. He peaks one eye open but his vision is still fuzzy from sleep so he almost knocks over the lamp as he tries to locate his phone. Eventually, he manages to silence the alarm. With a sigh, he falls back onto the pillow, blinking and waiting until he feels awake enough to roll out of bed. The curtains are slightly parted and the already bright L.A. sun is creeping up the floorboards, painting a narrow path across the bed and widening up on the wall behind Eddie. He smiles to himself. 

At the beginning of their group sleepover — or quarantine, if you wish — in Buck’s apartment Eddie made a small comment that getting blinded by the sun first thing in the morning wasn’t really his favourite thing to do. Since then, the curtains were kept shut every morning. Sometimes, when Eddie stirred awake as Buck was getting up, he saw his friend walk towards the window to peek outside. And every single time he parted the curtains just the tiniest bit, mindful of Eddie’s half-serious comment. The thoughtfulness made Eddie’s heart soar. 

This whole living at Buck’s place thing has been… interesting so far. The sleeping arrangements seemed like a challenge at first but they’ve dealt with it pretty quickly. On the first day when they showed up on Buck’s doorstep, he had an argument with Hen about giving her the bed. Unsurprisingly, Buck lost and Hen happily took the couch. Chim, only slightly less happily took the mattress they've placed downstairs. There was a perfectly good mattress waiting for Eddie in the loft as well. 

But the problem was that… he never really used it. That first night they were all tired after their shift, Chim and Hen already snoring quietly downstairs. Eddie moved over to the corner of the room, with every intention of crashing there for the night. But then Buck made a casual comment about the bed being big enough and that they could share if Eddie wanted.

And Eddie wanted. For a lot of reasons. Though the one that sounded the most reasonable at that moment was the fact that the bed was way more comfortable and required much less preparation than the mattress. And Eddie’s brain was too tired to tell him why sharing a bed with Buck was a dumb idea. ‘Having some kind of not-strictly-platonic feelings for Buck’ would definitely make it to the top of the list. But there was no list at the time, so Eddie just snuck under the covers on the left side of the bed that Buck left for him. They were both out within minutes. 

And then Eddie just… didn’t bother with the mattress. Even though — or maybe because — on that first morning he woke up well rested and content, with Buck’s arm thrown loosely across his waist. It was nice. It took all of Eddie’s willpower not to roll over, closer into the warm embrace. Neither he, nor Buck commented on it and they let it be. Eddie was more than sure that Hen and Chim noticed — they noticed everything — but except a curious glance or five every now and then, they didn’t say anything. They kept up the whole thing even when Hen decided to go back home to Karen and the kids. Chim took the couch instead, his mattress had been put away. And Eddie stayed in Buck’s bed.

So here Eddie is now, sprawled on said bed with a stupid smile on his face, staring at the curtains like it’s the best thing ever. It certainly is great and lets him wake up without feeling like someone’s flashing a torch into his eyes. But it’s not directly responsible for the stupid smile, he must admit. 

It takes him another minute before he finally wills his body to move. The right side of the bed is already vacant when he rolls over onto his stomach. He sends a glance downstairs. Buck is bustling around the kitchen, earphones in so he won’t disturb anyone. Eddie is pretty sure that he’s listening to this science slash comedy podcast he’s been obsessed with lately. He can’t really remember the name but he’s pretty sure there was a “fish” in it.

With one more content sigh, Eddie rolls out of bed and makes his way downstairs barefoot. As he walks closer, his brain recognises the scents coming from the kitchen. Coffee and something delicious that smells of tomatoes and fresh basil. His smile grows even bigger. He’s spent enough mornings here to hope that there’s a cup of freshly brewed coffee waiting for him as well.

Before Eddie can make a beeline for the coffee machine and check, Buck turns to take something from the kitchen island. His eyes skip to Eddie and his whole face lights up in a smile. Eddie’s breath hitches but he reciprocates the gesture. How can he not when Buck is looking like that, all happiness and soft curls? Eddie’s right hand twitches by his side. There’s a sudden need in him to run his fingers through Buck’s hair, to see if it’s as soft as it looks like. To stop himself from doing something stupid, Eddie grabs the barstool and sits down. He stuffs his hands under his tights, for good measure.

“Morning,” Buck greets, taking his earphones out and putting them in his pocket.

Before Eddie can say anything, a cup of coffee is placed right in front of him. He inhales the scent and lets out a happy little hum that makes Buck laugh.

“Hildy sends her regards,” Buck jokes, laughing even harder at the unimpressed look on Eddie’s face. 

Really, it’s about time Buck let that go. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he had been startled, hearing a strange voice saying “Hello, Eddie” as he walked into the kitchen that first morning. And he already apologised for the mug he dropped. To Buck’s credit, he did disable the voice greetings after that. Now the cursed machine was just… quietly lurking from its place on the counter.

“Thanks, Buck,” he says sincerely after all, deciding to ignore the comment. 

Buck only shrugs with a smile and turns back to whatever is sizzling on the pan. Eddie wraps his hands around the mug and takes a sip. Another content hum escapes his lips before he can stop it.

“This is nice,” Eddie says.

He’s not even sure what exactly he’s referring to. The coffee, the slow and calm atmosphere of the morning, the sight of Buck in a soft hoodie, pushing an omelette towards Eddie? The domesticity of it all that makes Eddie’s heart ache? It’s all of it and probably more. If only Christopher was around to join them in the kitchen right now, to ask for pancakes for breakfast and complain about his online classes or tell them about the dream he’s had. Then, Eddie would be completely and thoroughly happy. 

And this is a thought that both excites and terrifies him at the same time.

But it’s a bit less scary when Buck is standing right in front of him, his big arms resting against the counter as he leans forward. He’s looking at Eddie with those soft eyes and a beautiful smile on his lips. The only thing Eddie can do is to stare back and hope that his face is better at controlling his emotions than his heart is.

It would be so easy to just lean forward a little and—

“God, you two make me miss Maddie even more,” Chimney says from somewhere behind Eddie’s back.

His sudden appearance startles Eddie enough that he pushes a fork off the counter. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter and he quickly ducks to retrieve it.

“I’ll start giving you plastic utensils at some point, I swear,” Buck says, shaking his head at Eddie. His eyes are laughing, though, so Eddie knows he’s not being serious.

“Oh fuck off, I apologised for that mug already. And it was just a fork this time, don’t be dramatic,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him but he’s smiling as well. Then he turns and adds, “Morning, Chim.” 

Chimney is freshly showered and pours himself a cup of coffee. He’s also watching them with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile on his face. Eddie tries his best to ignore that, just like he ignored Chim’s comment. 

“Um, so,” Eddie starts, wanting to steer the conversation onto a different track. “What facts did they have today?” he asks, pointing his chin at Buck’s phone laying on the counter. Just like he expected, there’s a paused episode of that No Such Thing as a Fish podcast.

“Oh, did you know that there is a type of pasta that only 3 women in the world can make?” Buck’s eyes light up in excitement. “It’s some fancy one they make in Sardinia and it’s called threads of God. The recipe has been passed from mother to daughter for ages.”

“What if they run out of daughters and have a son?” Eddie asks.

“It’s fine, cause the recipe isn’t even secret or anything,” Buck says, pointing the spatula at him. “It’s just a pain in the ass to make. They’ve been trying to teach people how to do it but it’s just hard enough that most of them just give up.”

Chimney chuckles at that around a mouthful of omelette. "You should totally try. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd manage to do it, out of sheer stubbornness."

And Buck — both because he's interested and because he rarely steps down from a challenge — reaches for his phone and starts googling for the recipe and reads out whatever he finds.

It sounds really interesting. And not only because Eddie has a soft spot for Buck and the little tidbits of information he gathers and then excitedly shares with everyone who wants to listen. Eddie always does. Some people just shrug or roll their eyes at Buck, but Eddie really admires his interest, the childlike curiosity about the world that Buck has. There are so many things Eddie admires about him.

All things considered, Eddie shouldn’t be surprised that somewhere along the way he has fallen in love with his best friend.

It catches him a bit off guard, being able to put a name to the feeling that has been blooming in his heart for so long. But it doesn’t make him panic, at least no more than having feelings for his best friend already did. It’s more of a relief, really. It all makes sense now. 

Eddie doesn’t even realise that he’s been smiling and staring at the half-eaten omelette in front of him until his phone buzzes with a new text message. It shakes him out of his thoughts and he opens it to find a photo from Christopher.

"Everything okay, Eddie?" he hears Buck ask.

Raising his head, Eddie is met with a slightly worried gaze. He smiles, showing Buck the text he's just gotten.

"Yeah, Christopher's just complaining about his history assignment," he explains.

Buck chuckles at the photo of Chris' pouting face as he holds a history textbook and 'There's too many dates!' with a row of angry emojis written underneath. "We should FaceTime him later. I miss that little rascal."

Eddie doesn't point out that they've done that barely two days ago. Instead, his smile grows bigger as he agrees. He knows for a fact that Chris misses his Buck just as much and that the two of them have been texting a lot.

For some reason, Chimney sighs, rolls his eyes as Eddie glances at him, and leaves the kitchen with his coffee cup still in hand. Eddie's not sure what that was about. He doesn't have time to dwell on it though, because Buck drops on the barstool next to him with his own breakfast, their knees knocking together as he makes himself comfortable. Sipping the last of his coffee, Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to stop a smile.

He really could get used to spending all of his mornings like this.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 38

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You deal with the consequences of Bucky's actions.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, whump, violence

AO3

You didn’t return home that night. The sorcerers wanted to monitor your vitals and made sure you were stabilized after the shock of the bond being suppressed. The agony you’d experienced hadn’t hurt you physically, even though it had felt like dying.

Now you felt… lost. You weren’t even numb, because being numb meant you at least knew what you were feeling. This was different and so much worse.

At least twice an hour you lifted you head from where you laid in the bed, some part of you yearning, reaching out to Bucky and expecting him to be there. But there was nothing across the bond, across the thread you hadn’t realized was there until it was gone.

The mark was still on your shoulder, but it appeared dormant. Faded pink like a fresh scar. The sorcerers said it had worked and you would no longer be compelled to be fed upon.

All you did was give a vague nod. You hadn’t spoken a word since Bucky had been frozen.

Rogers, for his part, never strayed far. He was clearly off-balance with the situation and didn’t seem to know what to do any more than you did. Bucky had sprung this on you both, and the angry part of you said he’d abandoned you to pick up the pieces yourself.

Perhaps it was cruel and unfair of you to feel that way, but anger was better than despair. You were too empty and wrung-out to cry, and perhaps that was a blessing.

It was well into the early hours of the morning when you finally dozed off, and when you woke before noon, Rogers had fallen asleep in the armchair by the bed. Just like Bucky had done when you’d woken up in this room the first time.

But he wasn’t Bucky. He could never be a substitute. A part of you wondered if that’s what Bucky had been thinking when he’d contacted Rogers. Maybe he hadn’t gone that far, but asking his best friend to “care for his girl” while he was gone sounded like some old chivalrous bullshit that he might pull. Goddammit, he might have even said as much to Rogers, assuring him that it was all right if you “moved on.”

You eyed the blond Avenger and grimaced.

When Bucky unfreezes, I’m going to punch him in his beautiful fucking face.

The thought was surprisingly reassuring, because it meant you truly believed he would wake up. In fact, you were going to guarantee it, even if you had to take matters into your own hands. Bucky had mentioned a library, and Strange was supposed to re-test you and teach you, whatever that meant.

Which meant you would be in the Sanctum on a regular basis…

…which also meant you could not only do some research on your own, you could visit every day.

They would let you visit, wouldn’t they? You didn’t know, but at least you could reassure yourself that the bond had nothing to do with your feelings for Bucky. They were as solid as ever, which was both a relief and a curse. His absence was already heavy in your chest, and it felt more akin to grief than just simply missing someone.

You got out of bed, seizing onto the determination to start, today, to help Bucky. It was New Year’s, after all. Time to get a fucking move on.

“Hey, Rogers. Wake up.” You nearly kicked his shoe but refrained, which was probably a good thing considering your voice alone startled him awake.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his face. “I must have dozed off.”

You ignored his apology.

“Do you want to help Bucky?”

“Huh?” He blinked, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. Apparently, Captain America was a slow waker. “Of course I do.”

“Good. I need to ask a favor.”

“What… kind of favor?”

“You’d just be carrying some things, that’s all.” Sheesh, what was with the nervous tone? What did he think you were going to ask? You folded your arms over your chest, resisting the urge to tap your foot against the floor. “I need to pack up my stuff and move it here. Strange is going to train me, or at least he should, and while he’s doing that, I’m going to do all the research I can into demon bonds. We’re going to free Bucky.”

“Whoa, slow down.” He rose out of the chair, forcing you back a small step. You’d forgotten how damn big he was. “What are you talking about? Didn’t Buck want you to move into his loft?”

“Yes,” you grit through your teeth. “But I need to be here. I’m sure Strange won’t mind if it means he gets to keep a closer eye on me. So, by the end of the day, I need to move all my clothes to the Sanctum and the rest into storage.”

Rogers rubbed the back of his head, one hand propped on his hip as he frowned at you.

“Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” He winced.  “I mean, I don’t know you, but shouldn’t you take some time to think about this?”

“To think about what? I need to be here and I don’t have the money to waste paying rent on an apartment I’m not using.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened. “Well, don’t worry about that. I can take care of your rent. It’s no trouble.”

Your eyes narrowed. Could have sworn you saw the sweat droplets form on his forehead, too.

“Did Bucky ask you to do that?”

His uncomfortable smile was all the answer you needed.

“I don’t mind, really.” His smile became more genuine and less nervous. “Got a backlog of pay from the US Government I wouldn’t know what to do with. I can afford it.”

“Listen, Rogers,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “I appreciate the offer, I know you didn’t have to do that, but I’m fine now. You don’t need to take care of me.”

Hoping he got the picture, you turned and left the room you’d already designated as yours. You needed to run your plan past Strange or Wong, and then you could get started right away. That was the solution to both Bucky’s freedom and the painful effects of the severed bond. When you were distracted, your mind churning with ideas, it was easier to ignore the black hole occupying your chest.

Unfortunately, a second set of footsteps caught up with you, the owner of the voice a little sheepish.

“Bucky said you’d say as much.”

“Did he also tell you how stubborn and willful I am?” you responded sharply. “Maybe even threw in the word reckless?”

Rogers surprised you with a small laugh.

“Almost word for word.”

“Well, he’s not exactly one to talk,” you huffed. The man at your side just smiled wider.

“No, he’s not.”

“Good. Then you agree that Bucky is being an absolute idiot and something has to be done about it.”

“Hey, whoa.” A hand reached out to stop you from walking. You barely tolerated it and craned your head back to glare up at him. “Listen, I know you’re angry at Bucky, but…”

That was an understatement. He smiled sadly, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“A long time ago, someone much wiser than I am gave me a bit of advice,” Rogers said. “As much as you and I may not like it, this was Bucky’s decision. He deserves the dignity of his choice, even if it hurts. Even if we miss him.”

He looked away toward the high windows where winter light was streaming inside to illuminate the wood floor.

“I wish I’d had more time with him myself, but… there’s nothing we can do. He had his reasons, and it sounds to me like they were very good ones. It will take time, it’ll hurt, but he would want us to move on—“

You pushed Rogers’ hand off your shoulder. Not roughly, but not gently either, and he blinked down at you.

“I’m not giving up on Bucky,” you said, clenching your fists as you fought to keep your tone even. “I’ll never stop looking for a solution. No matter how long it takes.”

With a heated glare, you turned and left Rogers in the hallway, grinding your teeth. You’d thought Steve Rogers would have understood if anyone could have. But he didn’t, and you were truly alone.

***

You found Wong on the way to Strange’s office, and he agreed to take you there, not looking too surprised to find you practically stomping down the carpet runner.

Strange agreed to redo the tests as well as add on a few that were more “specialized,” whatever that meant. It involved more poking and prodding with arcane instruments, but you never complained. The discomfort was a small price to pay.

The results were the same as before: you were as magically skilled as a brick, and not the kind of brick that went into building magical sanctums, either. But the Ancient One’s words must have held enough clout for that not to matter, because Strange promised you would be training under Wong the next day.

Wong didn’t look too enthused about it, and you couldn’t blame him. Regarding the last disastrous meeting, you apologized for biting him, but he waved you off and said no apology was needed. Regardless, you felt terrible. Not terrible enough for Bucky to be put into a freezing chamber, but still, pretty awful.

As you suspected, Strange didn’t deny your request to move into the Sanctum. Wong gave him a considerable side-eye when he agreed, but you’d gotten what you wanted, and that’s all that mattered.

Steve Rogers, true to his word, helped move most of your belongings to your new room. Monster complained at being put in the carrier—he’d been acting difficult lately—but once you released him into your room he settled down. You wondered what that was about and found your answer when he took off and you chased him down the hallways, leading you to the room that held…

The two guards in front of the door were trying to catch Monster, but he slipped through their fingers like furry oil and scratched and yowled at the door. Tears stung your eyes as you scooped him up, holding him to your chest, and the guards looked extremely put-out.

“Can… can I see him?” You already knew the answer but were still disappointed when you received it.

“Only the Sorcerer Supreme and those with his approval may enter,” one of them said, eyeing Monster.

Your focus went to that heavy, stone door. Intricate glyphs were carved into its surface, and you wondered if even a hobgoblin could slip past them. It took every ounce of your willpower to step away, to leave Bucky all alone, you held Monster tightly as you walked back to your room.

“It’s okay,” you spoke softly into his grey fur. “We’ll be able to visit at some point. I’m sure. If the bond is suppressed, then what danger could there be?”

Danger or not, Strange wouldn’t let you see Bucky. “Not yet,” was his response when you asked. For now, according to him, you needed to focus on your lessons, which consisted of meditation, learning the combat stances (sorcerers could fight?), and learning to conjure.

The meditation part was the easiest, or would have been if your mind wasn’t a constant bundle of anxiety. The martial arts lessons were definitely more interesting, even if your body was laughably clumsy and uncoordinated. You saw other “students” around, but you always trained with Wong alone. When you asked why, he cited the fact you were at the same learning level as a 6 year-old. The hit to your ego made you stop asking about joining the others.

Days turned into a week. A week into two. You’d returned to work, a truly surreal experience especially with seeing Davin again. He was kind and spent more time with you than he used to, sitting with you during lunch and then walking you to your cab after work. A part of you wondered if he knew. If Bucky had asked him to keep an eye on you while he was gone.

You didn’t ask.

Steve Rogers didn’t stop by every day, but he was there at least twice a week. At first it was awkward—what were you supposed to talk about with an Avenger?—but then he began to share history. Tales of his and Bucky’s youth and all the ways they got into trouble. It was through your common interest in Bucky that you began to warm up to each other, and he never had a shortage of stories when it came to his childhood friend.

Sometimes, he would get this yearning expression, and you were uncomfortably reminded that he and Bucky had been much closer than simple friends. You wondered if Rogers knew that you knew.

It was normal for a person to compare themselves to a partner’s ex. You weren’t sure how to feel being compared to Captain America, except the fact you couldn’t compare at all, and Bucky had definitely downgraded. You weren’t a super soldier with biceps the size of melons.

Regardless, Rogers’ company was appreciated and comforting, unlike when it had been simply tolerated before. But by week two, you were no longer coping as well as you once were. Perhaps Wong noticed during your lessons, because when you asked him once again if you could see Bucky, he had a different answer for you.

You stood outside the door, nerves tingling as the two sorcerers on guard duty unlocked the room with some complicated hand gestures. The door swung open heavily on its hinges, and you stepped forward, fists pressed against your thighs.

The room hadn’t changed, still dim and creepy with glyphs running along the walls. The iron chamber was where you’d last seen it, lit from within with a pale, ghostly light. It made the man inside appear barely real, darkness in the hollows in his cheeks and cast by the shadows of his horns.

“No touching,” one sorcerer barked when you reached out toward the lid. You retracted your hand, twisting your finger anxiously as you looked back at the guard.

“Can I have a moment alone?”

“No.”

You turned back to the chamber, your chest aching with the gnawing emptiness that never left. It was worse in Bucky’s presence, but it was worth it just to see him again. To know he was still alive, even when it didn’t feel that way.

There was so much you wanted to say to him, but even a whisper could be overheard in this place. So you thought back to the way you’d communicated with Bucky in the demon realm, a place where you’d had no voice but he’d heard you anyway.

Bucky, if you can hear me… I want you to know I’m so sorry.

He didn’t stir. You hadn’t really expected him to. You should have felt silly to stand there, talking to yourself in your own mind, but you didn’t. If anything, it felt like praying.

I’m going to find a way to set you free. From the bond, from this prison. And then you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. You don’t… don’t even have to stay with me. You can be with Steve again, if that’s what makes you happy.

You swallowed down the painful lump in your throat and pushed past the heavy weight on your heart.

How many times have I told you I’d never give up on you? I meant it then and I mean it now. Just… hold on a little longer. I’ll figure something out. I’ll do whatever I have to so you can come back. So you can have a life you deserve. It’s the least I can do for… for… This is all my fault, Bucky. The bond, the time-loop, you breaking your deal with the Ancient One. It should be me in there, not you.

You took a steadying breath and blinked away the tears. Tears meant that you had conceded, and you weren’t ready to give up on him. Not now, not ever.

I’ll fix this, Bucky. I will.

I have to.

You stayed as long as you could, even as you shivered and grew colder in the chamber’s presence. It was constructed of thick metal and appeared air-tight, and yet, the longer you stood there the further the temperature dropped. By the time the guards informed you your time was up, you were trembling and your teeth clattered together.

You really, really hoped Bucky couldn’t feel the cold.

***

The resolve to stay away from Bucky’s apartment didn’t last much longer. That night, you informed Wong that you would be spending the night in the penthouse. You used the excuse that you wanted to make sure everything was in order. Maybe Bucky had some plants he needed watered, or something.

Wong just shrugged and said you weren’t a prisoner and could come and go as you pleased. Of course, that’s what he said, but you’d noticed the robed sorcerers trying to blend into the crowds as you got in and out of the cab for work. Bucky had been right when he said the wizards didn’t have parking, and you’d been forced to keep your car at Bucky’s building once you broke your old apartment lease.

You didn’t mind that the sorcerers were watching you. It was comforting in a way, even if a large part of you was still angry at Strange. You were pissed, but your brief encounter with the Ancient One had convinced you that the sorcerers weren’t malicious or evil. They seemed to be trying their best to protect the world from magical threats, even when their efforts fell short.

Tonight though, you wanted to be alone. Away from sorcerers and magic and iron chambers that looked too much like coffins.

After the taxi drove you to the building, the desk clerk greeted you as if he’d been expecting your arrival. You stepped inside the elevator and tried to relax as it carried you to the highest floor. You were exhausted down to your bones; maybe staying the night wasn’t a bad idea after all.

The place was exactly the same as Bucky had left it. There wasn’t even any dust aside from the snow that had gathered on the outside of the clock face windows. It was still too damn cold, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, slowly turning 180 degrees to gather in the large space.

Your old stuffed animal that served as your animus was nowhere to be seen, and you hoped it was someplace safe. Knowing Bucky, it was. Still, you wondered what would happen to it now that the bond was silenced. Would it revert to an ordinary toy, or would it still contain your metaphorical heart?

You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

Pulling off your jacket and shoes, you crawled under the soft covers of Bucky’s bed, stretching out on the silken sheets. That was one thing you’d noticed about his bed. Maybe Bucky really enjoyed soft things, but he didn’t seem like the type to indulge himself. He’d said something about heightened senses; perhaps his skin had been too sensitive for ordinary cotton?

The curiosity in your thoughts tumbled away as you buried yourself into Bucky’s pillows, still strong with his earthy, musky scent. You missed him so much, and the magnitude hadn’t hit you until that moment. You hugged the pillow tight to your chest and allowed the hole in your chest to ache.

You drifted off like that, holding onto the pillow like a lifeline. It could have been minutes or hours later when your eyes snapped open. The hairs on your nape stood straight and your heart raced in a panicked beat. A stench permeated the air, familiar and sickening. Like rotten eggs.

You dashed across the bed, but not fast enough; a hand closed around your ankle and yanked you backwards. You yelled, clawing into the sheets as you were dragged across the mattress, and you hit the ground hard enough to lose your breath.

The face hovering above you was one you thought you’d never see again. Sickly green eyes glowed with malice, and the flower petal-like appendances of its face pulled back to reveal rows of neon green teeth. A mist the same radioactive color as its teeth leaked from its esophagus, and you covered your mouth as you screamed and kicked it in the shin.

The Alp gave a deep, terrifying howl, and you crawled across the floor and then scrambled to your feet.

Where was your phone? Your bag? It was dark, you couldn’t see. You clipped your leg against the couch and fell onto the hardwood floor, banging your knees.

You could hear it coming, its stink in your nostrils even if you couldn’t see it. Your phone was on the nightstand next to the bed, you couldn’t go for it.

Gritting your teeth, nauseous from the smell and the adrenaline, you dashed toward your only hope left: the elevator.

You didn’t make it even halfway. A hand grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back. You cried out, clawing at the fingers holding onto you, but the Alp didn’t relent.

Its other arm grabbed you around the waist, and that’s when the world tilted on its axis. The room spun, colors shifted and glowed together, and your stomach dropped as if you were on a roller coaster. Your surroundings blurred, and for the flash of a second, you saw red dunes and smelled burning, sulfurous air. The shape of the mountain range in the distance, the multiple moons hanging in the dusky sky, you knew them. Knew them intimately because you’d watched them for forty-eight years.

Before you could take another breath the world shifted again, and you were in a cold, dim room lit only by electric lamps and caged light bulbs.

You tore yourself out of the Alp’s grip, staggered and fell again, gasping as you hit the cold stone flooring.

You ignored the pain and cold temperatures as you scurried away from the demon. It didn’t lunge for you; it stared at something just above your head.

Before you could turn around to see for yourself, something jabbed into your shoulder, and pain shot through your body as your muscles seized and your nerves caught fire.

The flow of electricity stopped, and you collapsed without another word or show of resistance. You could barely breathe, your vision swimming. The echo of someone’s footsteps passed by your head, and then a man was speaking, his voice soft and accented.

“Stupid creature,” he said, leaning down in front of you. A soft touch at your neck, almost gentle. No matter how much you tried to focus, his face remained blurry. “Couldn’t even follow simple instructions. And now look what I had to do.”

The man rose to his feet and left your field of vision. The last thing you heard before slipping away was the crackle of a cattle prod and the broken, tortuous wailing of the Alp.

Next Chapter

[fallenidol-453]

@beccaylaa

Title: A No Bullshit Guide to Vampire Etiquette [Or, How to Care for the Person You Feed From and Other Rules] Rating: R (mentions of sex, language)

this is 8 pages in Word and I was generous enough to remove another 3 pages because it was dragging along.

Stefan was surprised at how packed The Witch’s Brew was at six in the morning. He slipped inside the café and squeezed into a growing line near the booths. Two cashiers were manning the registers, while Madge and another barista were making all of the orders with brisk efficiency. Everyone was talking over each other, Madge’s selected big band and swing playlist was playing over discreetly placed loudspeakers, the smell of fresh baked goods and coffee hung in the air, and all Stefan could focus on was whether the café’s upstairs occupant was all right.

“Number thirty-five, your order is ready!” a voice called out over an intercom.

The line moved slowly. When Stefan was close enough, he reached for the ticket booth and pulled. The scrap of paper came away easily, a bolded “67” stamped in black ink.

“I need more milk!” he heard Madge shout.

“Number forty-three, your order is ready!”

Stefan checked his phone. No calls or texts from Ash, which meant he was still sleeping. Good. He saw the reminder to meet with his foster father… and then he reopened the text from Amily, sent two hours ago. Just a simple Can we talk? No reason why she wanted to talk, this wasn’t sent with urgency… none of this felt right to him. If Amily needed help, she could have just shown up at his house or actually called.

Someone was shouting at one of the cashiers. The line inched forward, and Stefan got a good look at the customer when he looked up from his phone screen. Some bigshot businessman, face red with anger as he waved his credit card around.

“Why is my coffee priced so high?! I just ordered a medium roast!”

“Sir, you ordered the medium roast, as well as six magic shots,” the cashier explained calmly. “Each shot of magic, which comes from the establishment owner herself, is three dollars each.”

A couple of people left the line and exited the shop. Stefan moved forward, and the number on his ticket changed to fifty-three. He was close enough to see the menu and the customer shake with anger.

“I want to talk to your manager!” he snapped. “This is ridiculous!”

“Madge!” the cashier hollered over her shoulder.

Stefan watched with amusement as Madge finished her orders. It looked like she was hurrying, topping one drink with whipped topping and adding its lid while adding a shot of magic to another cup marked with the number forty-nine and a few abbreviations that stood for the various shots of magic that could be ordered. But he knew from experience that she was taking her sweet time getting to the complaining customer. She finally walked up to the register, adjusting the hair net keeping her short black hair out of her plump face.

“Riley, go on break,” she told the cashier. Riley quietly slipped away as Madge looked at the irate customer.

“Are you the manager?!” the man demanded.

“Sir, I own this establishment,” Madge answered sternly. Business slowly resumed around her. “Was there a problem with your order?”

“Why do I have to pay twenty-eight bucks for a cup of coffee?”

“You ordered a medium roast and six shots of magic to go with it,” Madge explained. “Each order is limited to three shots. However—“

“But I ordered six of them!”

Stefan wanted to listen to more of the conversation, but it was his turn to order. He approached the cashier and handed her his ticket stub.

“What can I get you, sir?”

“Large black coffee… if Madge gets finished with that guy, add a shot of preservation, a shot of warmth, and a shot of good luck,” Stefan replied. “Also, the upstairs occupant needs to speak with me.”

“Black coffee… three shots of P, W, and GL…” the barista muttered to themselves as they scribbled on a large cup. They looked back up at Stefan when they were finished. “Madge has the key, but I’ll let her know you need it. What’s your name?”

“Stefan,” he replied.

“All right. We’ll call you when your order’s ready.”

Stefan paid for the coffee and went to stand near the blocked off staircase that led to the upstairs loft. From where he was standing, he was close enough to a hidden speaker to hear a Peggy Lee song clearly… and too late for the grand finale of the confrontation between Madge and the irate customer. He saw the man storm out, his coffee in hand.

He hoped Madge slipped a shot of bad luck in that drink.

“Number fifty-one, your order is ready!”

The Peggy Lee song faded out and a loud blast of trumpets announced the next song. Stefan moved away from the speaker and headed toward the counter where customers grabbed their completed orders. Madge was setting a few down, and she smiled widely when he approached.

“Morning, darling. Do you want your coffee or the key first?” she asked.

“I can’t have both?” Stefan inquired.

“Another special regular spilled coffee over Llew’s laptop while visiting upstairs a few months back,” Madge explained. She shrugged. “Sorry dear, but rules are rules.”

Stefan sighed heavily. In hindsight, he was glad he picked the shot of warmth – the coffee would stay warm until Ash drank it all.

“Key,” he finally said. “Ash hasn’t sent anything since last night, and I need to know what Amily wants.”

Madge unclasped a necklace with two keys on it from around her neck. After putting it back together, she gave the necklace to Stefan.

“Don’t worry, that’s been under my apron and on top of my shirt. Let me know when you’re finished with your meeting and I’ll swap the keys for the coffee.”

“Deal.”

Curling his fingers over the keys, Stefan turned around and went to the blocked off staircase. One key opened the locked door, and only when turned in a specific way, and it took him a couple minutes of experimentation to figure out which one. The two locks changed every month—sometimes every week if Madge was feeling malicious. Stefan remembered her telling a story of the locks changing every hour, but she could have been pulling his leg.

When he used the right key and removed it from the lock, the door swung open inward on its own accord. Stefan stepped inside and the door shut itself behind him with a quiet click. He wasn’t worried though; the locks only changed once key holders were on the café side.

Before him was a short flight of stairs. It was pitch black, but he could see the outline of the steps gradually ascending to a door at the top of a short landing. A handrail had recently been installed along the right side of the staircase, but Stefan ignored it as he began the ascent up. Llew’s friends might need it, but he didn’t.

The second key opened the door up top, and Stefan was greeted with the same pitch black darkness that cloaked the stairway. The small flat was crammed with furniture, but if he was careful about how he walked he could move around. Once again, the door shut itself when he stepped through the threshold, but it shut and locked soundlessly. Stefan stuffed the keys in a pocket as he tip-toed around a table and two chairs. He stopped at the threshold of the living room.

“Amily? It’s Stefan,” he announced.

“I’m over here,” a high-pitched voice replied.

Stefan looked to the right side of the room. A teenaged girl was curled up on the large couch, her knees drawn up to her chest as she played on a handheld game device. Her long face was illuminated by the device’s artificial light, which was probably at its lowest setting.

“You’re up late. Is Llew asleep?”

Amily turned the device off and set it on the coffee table across from her. She motioned for Stefan to have a seat and he obliged.

“Yeah… he had a date with one of his classmates,” she replied with a small smile.

“I got your text a few hours ago, and I’m a little worried about it,” Stefan inquired. Amily looked slightly shocked that he didn’t want to know more about the date. “Was there something you needed?”

“I… I have questions. About being a vampire.”

Stefan looked at her, dumbfounded. One of his siblings should have spoken to her the minute they were contacted by another vampire. He knew he hadn’t done it; the incident had been a decade ago and both he and Ash were in Bulgaria dealing with a pair of troublesome twins.

“Amily, I’ll be more than happy to answer your questions,” he replied. “But first, I need to know who spoke to you after you’d been turned.”

“Um… he was black and had a strong French accent,” Amily stated. She looked away from Stefan, her long hair falling over her face. “I… I don’t remember his name very well. He was blind too.”

Stefan suppressed an annoyed groan. He knew exactly who Amily was talking about.

“His name was René,” he supplied. He wanted to add in a few choice remarks about his adopted sibling but elected to keep his mouth shut. “What did he tell you?”

“René was a little… vague on details, I think he just wanted to give me the broad picture and then leave as soon as possible,” Amily answered. “He told me that after I took blood from the person serving as a bloodbond, I had to do something for them. He didn’t specify what it was and I didn’t get a chance to ask him.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’ll answer anything my brother left unanswered,” Stefan said. He must have sounded vehement, because Amily shrank away. “I’m sorry if I scared you. René and I really… don’t have the best history together.”

“It’s all right,” Amily replied timidly. She played with a strand of hair. “There were other things he didn’t cover either.”

“What were they?”

Amily looked embarrassed. It was a few minutes before she responded, and it was in a voice so quiet Stefan had to strain to hear her.

“When I… feed, afterward my body feels like it’s… it’s on fire or something. Like I feel really… horny? It lasts for an hour but I hate every minute of it.”

“Amily, that’s a natural response,” Stefan explained. “You absolutely do not need to act on those urges if you’re uncomfortable. What have you been doing while the sensation lasts?”

“Last month I just went into the bathtub and poured ice cubes all over myself,” Amily said with a weak chuckle.

Stefan winced. Amily managed to laugh a little before sobering up and looking at him.

“So you’re sure I don’t need to, like, masturbate or anything during that one hour?” she asked. “I just find sex really disgusting—“

“No, you don’t,” Stefan interrupted firmly. “No one is going to judge you if you don’t have sex with anyone. You know Madge downstairs? She doesn’t like sex either.”

“I thought she was married to two other women.”

“Just because you’re married one person, two people, or even five people doesn’t mean you have to have sex with them,” Stefan answered. “Madge’s two wives are completely supportive of her and still love her all the same.”

Amily nodded slowly in acknowledgement. She looked relieved.

“Do I need to do anything for Llew after I feed from him?” she inquired. “He just… sleeps afterward and maybe has some food I made that Madge says helps.”

“After you feed from him, it’s better to let him rest. But René was right on that point, you do need to do something nice for him eventually,” Stefan said. “You’ve taken something from him, and now it’s your turn to… give back, so to speak. You don’t need to do the same thing every time, but I know some vampires who thrive on doing the same thing. You might be different.”

“What kind of things do you suggest?”

“Let’s use me for an example. I switch things up with Ash after I feed from him. Sometimes... well, sex is involved. Other times, I cook… though I’m not very good. I was actually banished to the basement for two weeks because of a dish I cooked.”

Amily snorted with laughter and had to cover her mouth with her hands. “D-do you do anything else?”

“There have been times where I’ve bought him something expensive, like his favorite top shelf vodka,” Stefan elaborated. “Or we marathon all of his favorite movies… or I let him beat me at Call of Duty. Which I generally don’t do very often.”

Amily smiled at that. “Llew can be a bit of a pushover when it comes to games too. He’s insanely good at some of the Mario games, and I just can’t beat him no matter what.”

She grew quiet after that. Stefan didn’t want to push her for more questions. He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly checked the time. It was barely past six forty-five in the morning. The sun didn’t rise until a little after seven. If Amily kept him long after seven, that was fine. He could easily take a portal back home, hope Ash was still asleep, and leave the coffee as a present while he went to meet his foster father. He just hoped he could make that meeting with him as short as possible.

“Um… Stefan?”

Stefan hastily put his phone away and looked at Amily.

“Will I ever be able to go back outside? During the daytime, I mean.”

“Presently, and when it’s sunny out? Absolutely not. You’ll die, and Llew dies with you,” Stefan replied sternly. “As time goes on, at least every decade, you slowly become more tolerant of it.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “Look... did I answer at least some of your questions?”

A couple of uncomfortable minutes passed before Amily nodded reluctantly.

“I… I have a few more, but they can wait I guess,” she replied. “I would’ve come over to your place, but I’ve never traveled by portal before and I don’t know where it leads on the other side.”

“The other side of the portal from here leads to my basement,” Stefan said. “Just about everything that lets light in is completely blocked, so you don’t have to worry about ducking for cover when you step out.”

“What about upstairs?”

“It’s probably best if you visit during the night hours. Ash leaves the curtains open during the day no matter what the weather is,” Stefan said. “But I should leave. Its Ash’s birthday and his present might get cold. Go get some sleep, Amily.”

At Amily’s silent acknowledgement, he stood up and turned to leave. But something nagged at him, and he turned around to face her.

“Is Amily your real name? Or did you just change it because it sounded cool?”

“I read this really good book series last week… there was a character named Amily in it,” she replied wistfully. “It sounds better then Emily, right?”

Stefan had nothing to say to that. He gave her a weak nod and left the apartment.

-

It was another fifteen minutes before Stefan could go home. Getting Madge’s attention to return her keys had proved more difficult then he thought, and then one of the baristas misplaced his order. He was glad when he stepped out of the portal and into the basement of his house.

Quietly going upstairs, he opened the door a crack to determine how safe it was to step out. It was dim all around despite the sun rising outside, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Either Ash was still asleep, or he was awake and left all of the curtains shut when he realized Stefan wasn’t home. Stefan exited the basement, turned a corner to go into the living room and—

Ash was awake. He was sitting on the couch with a plush throw comforter thrown across his lap, an empty bowl of what Stefan assumed to be cereal on the coffee table. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and his pale blonde hair was disheveled.

“I… I thought you’d still be asleep right now,” Stefan announced.

“Morning to you too,” Ash replied. He spotted what Stefan held in his hands. “Is that coffee from Madge’s place?”

“Happy one hundredth birthday, old man,” Stefan joked. It was hard to not laugh at the comical frown Ash shot him as he handed the coffee over. “I was hoping to catch you sleeping, drop the coffee off, and then go meet with my foster father...”

He sat down on the couch while Ash drank and savored the coffee.

“How important is this meeting?” Ash asked a few minutes later. He set the coffee aside and pouted at Stefan. “I mean, I know you never miss a meeting with him…”

“I think it’s more of a mundane meeting, but I’m not positive,” Stefan replied uncertainly. “For all I know, he may just want to tell me how to better spoil you on special occasions. Or keep me informed on Gisela.”

Ash immediately had a retort about Gisela formed in his mouth, but he refused to say it out loud. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his husband’s feelings with his honest opinion on Stefan’s adopted sister. Plus, it wasn’t his place to say anything about it.

“Can you postpone the meeting until tomorrow?” he pleaded instead. “For all we know, he could just want to troll you. Which has happened.”

“I’ll never know if I don’t go!” Stefan replied, exasperated. “I mean—what are you—“

Before he had time to react, Ash yanked him forward for a kiss. While he was still registering that, Ash managed to wrestle him onto the couch and pin him there with his stupidly long legs. When Stefan attempted to sit up, Ash pushed him back down and kept a firm hand in his chest. In the chaos, the plush blanket Ash was using slipped onto the carpet below.

“What the fuck?”

“You’re not going anywhere and I’m not letting you get potentially trolled by your own father,” Ash replied. When Stefan attempted to move again, he straddled his lap more firmly. “Why don’t you contact Ewa? We both know she’s probably still awake at this hour.”

“Put some pants on first.”

“I’m not getting off until you contact her,” Ash teased.

“You did not just say that,” Stefan growled. Ash smirked at him. “Well, move a little so I can reach my phone.”

“You did not just say that,” Ash mocked.

“I’m being serious! My phone’s in my back pocket and you’ve got me pinned so thoroughly I can barely move!”

Ash eventually relented, and moved just enough so Stefan can reach for the phone. He found Ewa’s name in his long contact list and hastily pressed dial.

“Ewa?”

“No, this is Constance. What do you want, Stef?”

“Did Ewa visit our dad today?” Stefan asked. “Also, why do you have your wife’s phone?”

Above him, Ash finally got off of his lap and reached for his coffee again. Stefan hastily sat up and rested against one of the couch ends.

“Ewa’s asleep and my phone’s dead, so she let me borrow hers so I can work,” Constance answered. “I literally just got off the phone with one hell of a customer when you called.”

“That’s nice, but did Ewa visit our dad?”

His mouth opened in a silent scream as Ash casually sat down on his stretched out legs.

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Ash is using every trick in the book to keep me at home instead of letting me go see dad,” Stefan gasped in pain. “He’s currently gulping his coffee and sitting on my legs.” He tilted the phone away from his mouth. “Get off of me, I’m not going anywhere!”

“That’s tame, considering what he might usually do,” Constance quipped. Stefan could almost hear her roll her eyes. “Ewa only said that he said some general stuff. It’s probably not very important.”

“Great, thanks. Just what I need to hear,” Stefan said. “I’ll—Ash, please be careful, you’re gonna—“

“… I’ll leave you two alone now.”

Stefan sighed and set the phone on the coffee table as Constance hung up. Ash was still sitting on him, a wide, close-lipped smile on his face.

“Are you still going to visit your dad?” he asked sweetly. He batted his eyelashes.

“No, I’m staying,” Stefan deadpanned. He glowered up at his husband. “You do realize I have to sleep all day, right? Don’t you work today too?”

Ash finally got off of his legs and stood up. He grabbed the empty cereal bowl and coffee cup, walking into the kitchen.

“I requested today off,” he replied. His voice carried into the living room over the brief sound of running water. “And I do realize you have to sleep all day, so that’s why I haven’t bothered to get dressed. I’m going back to bed with you.”

Of course. Stefan rubbed his eyes. He didn’t even want to know what time it was at the moment.

“I hope you’re prepared to take Iris for a walk later,” he remarked.

Ash walked out of the kitchen and headed straight for the couch. He grabbed Stefan’s hand and pulled him up to get him to stand.

“I am ready for that! But come on, I recorded this new show Ewa wants us to watch,” he said excitedly. “She says it’s a really good costume drama. Just two episodes. Please?”

“… Fine. Two episodes, then I’m going to bed.”

--

Bonus

“What the hell?! They can’t end it there! How many episodes do we have left?!”

“That was the finale.”

“They can’t end it there! Mother of fuck!”