#episode coda

[cecilyv]

@liminalmemories21 and I wrote a little 8.15 - Lab Rats coda, buck/tommy.

Tommy hears Evan say, "Dad?" and just for a second he thinks that somehow, against all odds, it's Bobby standing there. He stands up so fast the chair tips over as he goes for the door. 

The bubble of hope pops abruptly when Evan says, "What are you doing here?"

"Your sister called,” a voice he doesn't recognize says.

And well, fuck. There's just no way this ends well. 

He rights the chair, squeezing the top slat, letting the wood bite into his hands. Evan was barely holding it together as it was, only really doing so by the skin of his teeth, by being the force of nature that he can be – focusing on his team, his family -- not on himself, or on. Or on Bobby. He asked me to, Evan told him through a sob, after, even as Tommy could see him try to push down the loss, to keep it off his face. Bobby did know his boy – worked best when given a direct plan of action. 

Tommy scrunches his nose against the tears that threaten to fall again, to clog his throat. Wipes away the one that escapes and squares his shoulders to face whatever the fuck is happening in the doorway. 

Wonders what on god's green earth Maddie had been thinking. Although, to be fair, he's going to go out on a limb and assume she didn't think their parents would get on a plane and fly to California to land just in time for the funeral. 

Texts Chim / 🚨Phillip and Margaret are here🚨/

Gets a string of texts in response judging by the way his phone is buzzing in his back pocket, and he can't look at any of them because Evan and his parents have come around the corner and Even is saying awkwardly, "Mom, Dad, you remember Tommy." And then when neither one of them says anything, even more awkwardly, "You met him at Maddie's wedding."

Philip shakes his hand reluctantly, good WASP manners too ingrained to be actively rude enough not to.

Margaret looks at Evan. "I didn't realize you had company. Your sister didn't say."

Evan shrugs, doesn't answer. Doesn't explain.

Which, actually, Tommy wouldn't have minded a little bit of explanation, just so that he knows where he stands. Because he'd taken Evan home after the lab, after Bobby died. Nobody had questioned it. He hasn't left since. Evan hasn't asked him to, and he hasn't offered. Eddie's flight is due to land in an hour. He's not sure what happens after that. Although if Phillip and Margaret are here – for what? – having Eddie as back up might be for the best. That’s a devil he knows. 

Tommy blinks and Evan is making coffee, and handing his mother a slice of coffee cake on a plate with a napkin - because given an awkward social situation, Evan, he learned the last time they tried this, will default to the polite rules of society to get through it. He doesn’t wonder where the coffee cake came from, because he'd discovered when he snooped around for breakfast ingredients that ill-fated morning that the only thing in Evan’s freezer is baked goods. 

He takes the moment to check his texts, discovers that if Maddie had known their parents might show up that she hadn't told Chim. His / 😱 ‼️ / makes Tommy snort.

He checks to see if anyone needs him for anything, and then texts Eddie. As far as he knows Eddie's still pissed at him for breaking up with Evan, doesn't know if Evan told him about the hook up the other week, or the way that he'd said he was jealous of Eddie, can't imagine that's improved Eddie's opinion of him if he did. But – man deserves to be warned about the clusterfuck he's about to walk into.

/ Phillip and Margaret are here /

gets / 👀/ from Eddie, and then / why? / and then / like this day could get any fucking worse / 

He’d only met them the once, in passing, nearly a year ago now, but he’s heard about them plenty - from Chim, from Eddie, and haltingly from Evan.  He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the full story of whatever it is, but he knows enough to know that adding them to the mix is not going to help Evan get through this day.  He’d never really worried about it before, because he’d met Athena, Bobby – the important people.

He comes back into the kitchen to hear Evan saying, “You should go to Maddie’s, I’m sure she needs the help.”

And Evan’s mother waves a hand, saying, “We talked to her yesterday, she’s fine.” And then leaning in to put a hand on Evan’s arm, and he can see from across the room how surprised Evan is by that, and how much he doesn’t know what to do with it. Adds another mental note to the list of things he knows about the Buckley parents.

Thinks Margaret kind of missed Evan’s point.  Maddie may be fine, but Chim’s not.  Might be nice if her mother volunteered to give Maddie some extra space to support her husband, since she flew all the way here.  He’s still not sure why the Buckley parents are here.

They don’t really have time to dig into it; they have a funeral to get to. 

****************  

The funeral is awful.  Everyone in their dress uniforms. The pomp. The circumstance. The weight of the loss literally on their shoulders. Staring at the back of Chim’s head, having to put one foot in front of the other, maintaining composure when all he wants is to hold Evan and shield him from everyone and everything. Instead, on a city street -- a funeral march. Step. Step. Step. 

The only time he and Evan have been in sync since they split six months ago and it’s to bear the burden of the first man to ever really give them a shot. To believe in them.  

The brass gives a speech. Athena had asked Evan if he wanted to speak, and he’d shaken his head. “I can’t.”

He agrees.  Has a fierce need to let Evan keep his grief private, not for public consumption.

After the funeral he hears Evan say, "We're going to Bobby and Athena's," and his heart fucking breaks at the way Evan's voice cracks halfway through Bobby's name. But then he's continuing, "for the wake." He hesitates. "Do you want me to call you an uber, or something?"

"Oh," Margaret says, and she sounds clearly surprised. "We thought we'd go with you."

It startles Evan into honesty. "Why?"

"To pay our respects. He was your captain. I know he meant a lot to you." Which is nice, until she adds, "That's what people do, Evan."

The way she says his name grates on Tommy's last nerve. He wants to say, 'no, people don't fly across the country to crash a funeral.  People write a nice card.  People know when to stay in their lane'.  Almost says it, when Evan looks at him.  But, whatever is going on between them, shutting Evan’s parents down probably isn’t his place. Is tempted to look around for Eddie, who might be able to get away with it.

Margaret looks torn, and Maddie – bless her – says, "I'm sure Jee’d like a last bit of one-on-one time with her grandma before the new baby comes."

"I thought Mrs. Lee was watching Jee this afternoon," Margaret says, proving that she is in fact totally incapable of reading a room. Even Phillip looks a little abashed.

He loses track of Philip and Margaret for a while at the wake.  More people than he expected come up to offer him their condolences, like he has a right to grieve Bobby as much as Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, and Evan.

Finds them again when he hears Margaret asking Evan if he’s ready to leave.  Like she expects her claim on his time to supercede anything else.  LIke Bobby’s fucking funeral.

Turns in time to catch Evan’s absolutely blank look.  “I’m staying.”

Margaret looks taken aback.  “Oh, well, should we meet you for dinner somewhere?”

Evan shakes his head, looks impatient for the first time.  “No.”  For a second Tommy thinks he’s going to leave it at that, and wants to applaud, but Evan seems to realize how blunt that is, or maybe the look of disapproval on Philip’s face clues him in.  Either way he says, “I’m going to stay, help clean up after everyone leaves.”

Margaret’s face tightens, and he wants to shake her, ask what she thought was going to happen here.  They’d flown out for the funeral, so on some level they understand how important Bobby had been to Evan.  Just not apparently on any kind of level that lets them empathize with his grief.  

He doesn’t know where they go, but he does see Margaret and Phillip leave, stopping to talk to Athena before they do.  Has no idea what they say to her, but she looks faintly surprised by it.

Margaret and Phillip are at Evan’s new house, Eddie’s old house, when they finally all get home.  They’ve made dinner.  Like any of them have an appetite, like they hadn’t just put away a semi-truck load of leftovers from the wake -- everyone tries to feed grief, like if you fill up on food, the sadness won’t have anywhere to go. 

Reins it in.  They made dinner.  That was kind of them.  One less thing for Evan and Eddie to have to think about.  He eyes the casserole that Margeret puts on the table.  It’s bland, but inoffensive.  Suspects that Evan could make it better.  Catches Eddie’s eye and has to stifle a snort when it is very clear that Eddie is thinking the same thing.  Whatever grievances Eddie has with him – and Tommy’s prepared to admit they’re mostly merited – they’re on hold for however long Evan’s parents are here.

Dinner conversation starts with polite anodyne conversation about the funeral, how big the turnout was, how nice everyone was at the wake.

It moves on to Phillip saying, “The house is – different.  We didn’t know you’d moved.”

Evan picks at his food and just says, “It wasn’t that long ago.”

Eddie takes the fall.  “I moved back to Texas.  Evan took over my lease.”

Philip nods.  “Maddie hadn’t mentioned that.”  

That brings Evan’s head up a little, “Oh, um, yeah.”  Then he frowns a little.  “Why would she?”

Margaret gives a brittle laugh.  “Well, it’s not as if you tell us anything.  If we didn’t talk to Maddie we wouldn’t know anything at all about your life.”

Tommy bites back the urge to suggest that maybe there’s something they could infer from that.

Margaret looks at where Evan’s plate is still more than half full.  “You’re not eating.” Evan looks at his plate.  “Sorry.  I’m not very hungry.”

Margaret’s lips purse, and he silently dares her to say something.  She doesn’t.  Looks around the living room instead.  “I like this.  It’s much more grown up than your old apartment.”

Tommy winces and concentrates on his food.

Evan’s eyes flick around.  “Yeah.  I guess.”

Her lips purse again.  “Evan, we’re trying.”

Evan looks blank.  Eddie sends Tommy an alarmed look and mouths ‘oh shit’ at him.

Philip clears his throat.  “We came all this way. Your mother made you dinner.  I know you don’t call.  But, is it too much to ask that you talk to us when we’re here?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Evan mutters.  And Tommy would bet a lot that he doesn’t realize he’d said that out loud, knows from experience that when you back Evan into a corner he lashes out. Wonders how on earth Evan’s parents don’t seem to know this.

Margaret’s face is a perfect picture of frozen devastation, and he’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t making Evan’s loss all about her.  Wasn’t making a bad day exponentially worse.

There’s a knock on the door, and they all look around — doesn’t know who it could be, they’re all here. 

Evan gets up to answer it, Tommy sips his wine to have something to do with his hands. Eddie twirls his fork mindlessly in the mess of noodles on this plate. 

“May?” He hears and then, “are you okay? Is Athena— I can grab my coat—“ 

“No, no, we’re—“ something garbled, and then “not fine but –” A pause and then “I talked to Mom and we wanted you to have this.”  There’s the sound of Evan taking a stumbling step back into the wall.

“I can’t, May, that’s for family, that’s for Athena — for you, for—“ and Tommy can’t bear to hear his voice breaking, cracking, gets up and leans into the hallway to see Evan clutching a flag. 

Bobby’s flag. 

“It is for family,” May’s voice is steady, despite the tears running down her face. “Mom said she had their house. His medals. She had what she needed and she wanted you—“ May gulps. “He would have wanted his son to have this.” 

Behind him, Tommy hears two chairs being pushed back and whips around.  

“You need to go,” he hears himself saying before he even realizes he’s going to. He hadn’t said anything earlier, wasn’t sure if it was his place, but he wants to try and preempt whatever they’re going to say now.  

“Evan,” Margaret says, warning and entreaty, looking over Tommy’s shoulder. He feels Evan behind him, turns slightly and can see May standing awkwardly, shifting her feet like she’s not sure she should be seeing this. He understands; isn’t sure he wants to witness this either.

Evan just shakes his head. “Tommy’s right.”

Phillip stands up, arm around his wife’s waist, staring at Tommy.  “He’s here.  He’s not family.  Maddie said you broke up.”  Pauses and then digs the knife in. “She said he broke up with you. That you were devastated.”

And Evan looks at him like it's the first time he's really registered that Tommy's still there, that he hasn't left. And Tommy holds his breath, waiting to see what Evan will say, if he'll finally ask him to leave. 

Instead he says, "He's here because he always shows up when I need him, and because he's willing to keep trying even when we both fuck it up." 

The ‘unlike you’ goes unsaid. But, Tommy's pretty sure people from three counties over heard it loud and clear.

Evan’s on a roll now, all the things he’s been holding back all day coming out now that the dam’s been broken.  “He tried to save Bobby twice, risked his life for Bobby.  Risked jail for him.  And you?  You didn’t even — “ he chokes up.

“Funerals are for everyone else. Wakes are for family,” May says unexpectedly.  “Evan was Bobby’s son.  He gets to decide whoever else he wants to have here.”   She holds Evan’s gaze when he looks at her, and after a moment he nods.  Reaches out for Tommy’s hand, holding it hard.

“I buried my-, my father today. I’d like you to leave.”  Margaret and Phillip are frozen by the dining room table.  Evan unbends enough to say. “I’ll call you before you fly home.”

May looks cooly at Margaret and Phillip, every inch Athena’s daughter. “I have an uber outside, we can drop you wherever.” 

Later, in bed, he’s curled around Evan. “He was supposed to be here,” barely aloud, just a whisper of a breath. “He was going to stand up for me, tie my tie and—“ Evan’s voice breaks and he lets out a single, wracking sob, his back shaking.

“He taught you,” he says to Evan, to himself. “He taught you what you need to know. To do. To be who you are.”

“I never told him,” Evan chokes out, “that I loved him, that he was my—“

“He knew,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder blades. “He knew.”

“He told me he didn’t have to worry.” Evan rolls over and pins him with a stare, the light of the moon just reflecting off the white of his eyes. “That you were good people.  Don’t make him a liar.” Tommy swallows hard, holds his gaze as much as he wants to look down, away, anywhere but at Evan, tear-stained cheeks shimmering in the blue light. “He was a lot of things, but never a liar.”

“I won’t.” It breaks out of him, cracks open his chest and crawls out, like the baby in Alien, leaves him bleeding and open - would give everything to make the lie true.

“You did,” and there it is, Tommy wishes he could take it back, could live up to Bobby’s estimation of him.  He wants to be that man.  For Bobby.  For Evan.

He can’t lie again, “I did.” Looks between them.  “I won’t again.”  Evan’s lashes shadow his cheeks, like he doesn’t want to look to see if Tommy is lying.  He brushes tear off of Evan’s cheek, admits, “I’m really bad at it. Leaving you. I can’t — I can’t stay away. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t,” Evan says finally.  “I never did.”

“Okay.  Then I won’t.”  It’s a promise to Evan.  To Bobby.  To himself.  

[loucifersbitch]

8x04 episode coda

“Hey,” Tommy said when Buck walked through the door, pulling him in and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey.” Buck smiled, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder briefly. “What’s all this? It smells amazing,” he said, walking over to the stove to peek into one of the kettles.

Tommy slapped his hand away before he could lift the cover, Buck squawking in mock offense.

“It’s nothing big,” he said, picking up a wooden spoon to stir something in a sauce pot. “I thought you should have a nice homemade meal to come home to after the week you’ve had,” he added with a shrug. He was trying to seem nonchalant, but Buck wasn’t buying it, eyebrows shooting up.

“Uh huh. And what’s the actual reason for all this?”

Tommy huffed a laugh, not looking at Buck as he continued to give all of his concentration to the stovetop.

“Do I need a reason to cook a nice meal for you?”

“No, but - I don’t know, Tommy,” he started, moving over to lean against the counter next to his boyfriend. “This seems like - like too much.”

Tommy finally looked at him, setting down the spoon and placing his hands on Buck’s waist.

“Evan,” he said, his tone almost a reprimand, “there is no such thing as too much when it comes to you. I like doing things for you. I know you’ve had a hard time dealing with Gerrard at work and worrying about Hen and Karen and their daughter, but that’s all over now. Bobby’s back, and Mara is home, and I get to see you be happier again. So I wanted to celebrate a little. Okay?”

Buck ducked his head then looked shyly up at Tommy. He felt cared for in a way he hadn’t since his childhood.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you, Tommy.” He placed a kiss next to Tommy’s mouth, right on one of the dimples he loved so much.

“You’re welcome. Now, can I get back to my sauce before it burns?” he asked, that smile tugging at his lips.

“Y-yeah, of course.” 

Tommy began stirring again, and Buck couldn’t help but watch the way Tommy’s muscles shifted beneath his henley. Muscles he would get to enjoy later, he knew.

“Would you drain the pasta for me?” Tommy asked, breaking into a smirk when he noticed Buck staring.

“Sure, I think I can manage that.”

Resting a palm on Tommy’s hip, he reached around to the other side to grab the colander, making Tommy chuckle. He drained the pot of pasta - “Did you make fresh spaghetti?” - he let Tommy take over, tossing the pasta in the sauce. Buck moved on to opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses before sitting at the table as Tommy walked over.

“Bon appetit,” he said, setting a heaping bowl in front of Buck. “Spaghetti all’Arrabbiata.”

“Wait,” Buck said, suddenly struck. “Is this your Nonna’s recipe? The one you made the first night we - ?”

“It is,” Tommy said, shrugging.

“Tommy, are you sure there’s nothing going on?”

“Why are you suspecting something?” Tommy asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“This all feels - I don’t know. Something feels different.”

Tommy sighed, dropping his head. When he looked up again, his eyes were glinting with something Buck couldn’t decipher at first glance.

“I was trying to be so subtle, but you never miss anything, do you?” Tommy asked, holding out a hand for Buck to take. It felt like Tommy wasn’t done speaking, so Buck waited him out for a few moments. “After dinner, I was going to sit you down and talk with you for a while. Catch up after not seeing each other for a few days. But you’re too smart, too perceptive.”

“Tommy -”

“Move in with me.” It wasn’t a question, but it was a request all the same.

Buck was speechless for a moment, processing the idea that Tommy wanted to live together.

“I - Tommy, it’s been six months. Are you sure you want me around all the time? Always in your space? All my things taking up residence here?”

“Yes, Evan. I want you around all the time. Every day. I want to go to sleep next to you every night and wake up to your snoring every morning.”

“I don’t sno-”

“And I want all of your things here,” Tommy pressed on. “I want your clothes in the closet and your dishes in the kitchen and your fancy bath towels in the linen closet.”

“Tommy, this is big.” 

“I know. But I know this is what I want. Every day I come home, and it feels like something’s missing. And I realized that that something is you. I want you, Evan. You’re home to me now.”

Buck couldn’t stop himself from surging forward, pulling Tommy into a searing kiss.

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” he asked. At Tommy’s insistent nod, he said, “Okay. Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Great.”

Neither of them could seem to stop smiling.

[allisonrw96]

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

[toxicpositivitybuddie]

fic: slow is the quicksand, poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand

eddie diaz (buddie undertones), gen, 3x14 sick day coda

Eddie hasn't heard from Buck in hours, and he's getting worried.

read @ instantcaramel on ao3

[ambernotember]

a little meddling could go a long way

a very silly episode coda for 9-1-1 8x11 and Doctor Odyssey 1x11

read on ao3

“Sergeant Grant,” Tommy grinned at her as he hopped down from the helicopter. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” “Firefighter Pilot Kinard, thanks for the assist,” Athena said. “If I never see another boat it will be too damn soon.”

or read below the cut

“Sergeant Grant,” Tommy grinned at her as he hopped down from the helicopter. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Firefighter Pilot Kinard, thanks for the assist,” Athena said. “If I never see another boat it will be too damn soon.”

Tommy laughed. “Let’s get you all loaded up and out of here then. I assume you’re Daphne, our VIP?” She nodded and he guided her over to the helicopter. “You’ll be in the back with our aeromedic, and you’re our first stop.” He helped her up, and his partner got her situated. “And next to our FBI guides, we’ll have you two.” Between the two FBI guys, they quickly got Bonnie and Clyde seated as well.

“Sergeant, can I offer you the front seat?” He gave her a jaunty little bow as she climbed in, before he slid in after her. Once Daphne and Athena had been given headsets, and the criminals had ear protection on, they took off.

“Welcome to Kinard Air,” Tommy said over the headsets. “Our first stop is the hospital in approximately two hours. We don’t have in flight entertainment, but you’re welcome to watch the ocean waves out the windows.”

Daphne laughed, audible even though she hadn’t turned on her microphone, loud and bright.

“So Daphne, what are your plans once you’re healed up and out of the hospital?” Athena asked over the headsets. The aeromedic showed Daphne how to use hers to respond.

“Oh Sergeant Grant, I have no idea,” Daphne laughed again. “Dance all night, drive through the wilderness, swim in the ocean. Just celebrate, you know? Do the things I've been putting off, or thought I couldn't do anymore.”

“That sounds lovely,” Athena said. “But if I can make a suggestion? No more cruises. They’re not worth the trouble.”

Tommy privately thought Athena Grant might be the only person who could out deadpan him. He let the conversation fade into the background as he focused on flying, keeping an eye on the time and his nav system.

“Have you seen the new photos of it? Tommy?”

Tommy realized Athena was talking to him. “Sorry?”

“Has Buck shown you the new photos of the house? The kitchen counters just got installed.”

Tommy realized abruptly that Athena thought he and Evan were still together. “Uh, no, I haven't seen them,” he said. They still had an hour to go, and other people were on the comms, so it seemed like the easiest answer.

“Hmm,” Athena said. “Maybe Bobby forgot to send them.”

“Are you renovating?” Daphne asked.

“Building, actually. Rebuilding, I guess,” Athena mused.

“Rebuilding?”

“There was a fire,” Athena said. Tommy knew she was leaving out a lot of details about how and why the fire had started - Evan had told him about it. “We looked for a new place but nothing felt right. So we decided to build something new where the old house had been.”

“Wow. Did you get to design it?” Daphne asked.

“Actually my ex-husband did. He’s an architect.”

“And you’re still close? Wait, sorry, is that prying?”

“Nothing else to do,” Athena said. “We are close. We’ll always be family, and we have two kids together. He and his husband live in Florida now. We got divorced about, 7 years ago now? Almost 8. Then I met Bobby, my husband. Well, we had met before that, on the job — he's a firefighter. That's how I know Tommy here, actually, they used to work together.” Athena smiled at him then continued her story. “We were together a little less than a year when we got married. Part of what I love about him is how much he loves my family. He never tried to take over the dad role but he’s always been there for my kids. And he and Michael — that’s my ex — are close.”

She paused. “Sorry, that was probably a lot information that you were expecting.”

“I mean, like you said, not much else to do,” Daphne said.

“Do you have anyone at home Daphne?” Athena asked.

Daphne laughed again, but it was sad this time. “No. When I got sick — well, I didn’t want to put anyone else through that. It seemed easier to be alone.”

“It can be,” Athena agreed. “The thing I’ve learned as a first responder though, is that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. If there’s something that makes you happy, someone you love, it’s worth the risk.”

Tommy glanced at her out of his peripheral, but she seemed focused on the view out the windshield.

“And that’s how you feel about Bobby?”

“It is.”

“That’s so romantic,” Daphne sighed.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a lot of hard work too. We almost broke up twice,” Athena confided. “I didn’t want to be seen dating after the divorce and he thought I was embarrassed of him. And then I asked him to move in with me before he was ready.”

“Really?” Tommy surprised himself by asking. “You two have always seemed so solid.”

“Now, yes. But it took us a while to get there.” Athena turned around slightly to see Daphne. “The new romance shine is easy to find. It’s what comes after that that people don’t talk about. It’s a lot of hard work to learn to communicate with each other and trust each other. And it doesn’t stop.”

“It doesn’t?” Daphne asked.

“No, it does not. Bobby and I actually fought about the house design — I wanted to rebuild exactly as it had been, but Bobby pointed out that really, that had been mine and Michael's home. If we were building something, it should be mine and his, even if it was on the same piece of land as the old house.”

“You two sound like a romcom come to life,” Daphne said.

It was Athena’s turn to laugh. “Only because I’ve left out a lot of details. Sometimes it’s a horror show. But I can get through it because I know he’s there for me.”

Tommy swallowed around a surprisingly large lump in his throat.

Athena pulled out her phone to read a text message. “Slight change of plans, folks,” she said over the comms. “Pick up for Bonnie and Clyde will be at the hospital as well, no need for a second stop.”

“Copy that,” Tommy said, relaying the information to Harbour.

“I’m just going to let Bobby know,” Athena murmured as she typed out a text. “Do you want him to pass the message along to Buck as well?”

“Oh, I have to go back to Harbour anyways,” Tommy deflected. “No worries.”

Athena and the FBI agents spent the last part of the flight coordinating with their team on the ground, and Tommy and his aeromedic kept the hospital apprised of their progress.

Daphne was the first person off the helicopter, the medical team whisking her away to surgery for her transplant. Tommy hopped out for a quick stretch while the LAPD and FBI dealt with Bonnie and Clyde. He was surprised when Athena rounded the helicopter and pulled him down into a hug.

“Thank you for getting me home safe again,” she said. “Housewarming as soon as the tools are cleaned up - we’ll see you there.”

“Uh, I’ll see how my schedule works out.”

“We’ll see you there,” she repeated. “And hopefully never again on a boat.”

Tommy laughed despite himself. “I’ll do my best to avoid it,” he said. He waited until everyone had cleared the helipad, then got back into the helicopter to head back to Harbour, trying to put Athena’s comments out of his mind.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Athena said as she got into the truck. “I could have just had one of the uniforms get me.”

Bobby held out his hand for hers and threaded their fingers together. “And miss out on another second of seeing you? Absolutely not.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of her hand, squeezing tightly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you.”

“It had to be a boat,” Athena said. “You’ll never believe who my ride back was.”

Bobby looked at her in askance.

“Tommy Kinard.”

“That must have been an awkward flight,” Bobby said flatly.

“Actually there was a lovely patient named Daphne on the flight, we had a great time. And don’t talk about Tommy like that,” she chided her husband. “Have you seen him since the breakup?”

“No.”

“Well, that is not a happy man. Regardless of Buck saying Tommy broke up with him,” and he had, many times, and it was the reason Athena’s kitchen was overflowing with baked goods, “he’s clearly hurting.”

“What did you do?”

“Let’s just say there’s an aeromedic and two FBI agents that know a lot about our relationship now.”

“You meddled? You?” Bobby raised an eyebrow at her. “You hate getting involved in other people’s relationships.”

“It was the happiest I’d seen either of them,” Athena shrugged. “Sometimes people just need a little nudge. If it works, maybe they talk and we finally have an end to the baked goods. Or he doesn’t do anything about it and we have to buy a chest freezer for the new house for Buck’s baking.”

Tommy landed at Harbour, refuelling his bird and finishing his paperwork before the exhaustion of the day could overtake him.

When it was done, he took out his phone and sent a text message.

Can we talk? Maybe on Saturday?

tag list: @chimneyz @bucktommyyendgame @desert--moonchild @swagmaster9k @geekwarrior107 @racerchix21 @fan-of-a-lot @bybobbysbeard @adhd-dean @styxhuntress @owlgirl495

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[trombonechurchill]

The casket should be heavier. Should match the weight pinned in Buck's chest since he shut the lab door, pulling him down. Enough of it Buck thinks sometimes he should just sink right through the floor into all that blackness he knows is waiting underneath.

It's all he can do move through it. The drag of it. A constant heaviness that sits on his shoulders, under his eyes, inside his chest. It doesn't leave, doesn't ease. Buck breathes through it, expecting to hear his voice crack and wheeze like Hen's as she recovers. A ruptured heart along with her lung. Heavy enough to split skin. Pin Buck to the pavement.

But the casket isn't heavy. Doesn't seem to be enough to match the life of a man so solid like Bobby. Buck can't comprehend it. Narrowing all of it, everything Bobby was, down to such a gentle weight in his hands. It should take the entire station. The city. The world, to lift everything that was Bobby Nash. But it doesn't.

Buck hardly feels it as they lift the casket between them, a barely there pressure on his shoulders that can't compare to the one building behind Buck's eyes, in his throat, balling tighter and tighter till Buck's sure he'll break under the weight of it.

But they lift him. Together. And they carry Bobby home.

[chronicowboy]

Eddie is a big enough person that he can admit he's being difficult. He feels like a dick, okay? A nurse's job is difficult enough without a stubborn firefighter wriggling away from their relentless offers of pain medication, and he feels truly terrible about making it ten times worse.

But his team, his family, all came way too close to death today. And what did Eddie do? Lie there like a fucking damsel in distress just waiting for Buck to come rescue him.

Hell, even Hen performed a rope rescue whilst heavily concussed. Eddie was about one tenth of the muscle power behind lifting the slab of concrete off Bobby, that's it.

And, look, maybe that's not a good enough reason to snap at the very nice nurse pursing her lips into a smile for him. But Athena had dropped him down on the closest bench when they'd arrived, and everybody else was being dealt with because their injuries were more serious, and Eddie's alone. He's alone, and he has no idea what's happening to his friends, and no one will tell him anything.

The curtain hooks squeak as a dusty figure slips into his little nook in the corner of the Emergency Room, and something coiled tight in his chest loosens into warm relief when he meets their eyes.

"Hey, heard you were being difficult." Buck quirks an eyebrow at him, and Eddie can see the way his mouth twitches as it desperately tries to fight off a smile.

"I'm not being difficult," Eddie insists because maybe he's not as big of a person as he thought he was. The nurse shoots him a dirty look, and he withers under the attention. "Okay, maybe a little."

Buck huffs a laugh as he drags a spare stool over to the bedside unoccupied by the needle-wielding nurse, collapsing into it with a poorly hidden grimace. His eyes flick around Eddie's face for a moment, and Eddie swallows thickly at the attention, suddenly afraid Buck might see something on him that Eddie can barely see himself - that tends to be how they work.

(Its a lot that he's choosing not to see. Or, well, its impossible not to see, but Eddie has never cared to look too closely, never cared to take a step back and look at the whole picture.

The magnitude of it terrifies him because what he can't see he can feel. The loosened coil in his chest that had turned taut at Buck's grimace, the way the throbbing in his ribcage had eased up ever so slightly when Buck's voice had crackled through his radio, the leap of something behind his sternum when Buck's hand had found his in the chaos.

And the details of it that Eddie has spent hours staring at just for them all to blur together into an answer he's never dared read. The spot on the couch that always sits empty on Christopher's other side, the cookies Christopher's teacher had complimented him for at pick-up, the cartoon heart tucked away in the box at the bottom of the closet with all of Christopher's old drawings.

God, part of him hopes Buck reads it all right then and there, puts them both out of the misery and drags the answer out into the daylight.)

"Take the meds, Eddie," Buck murmurs gently. There's something on Buck's face, something Eddie wants to read into, something Eddie wants to find an answer in. "Please."

"Buck..."

"I saw how much pain you were in, Eds." Buck shakes his head, shoulders hunching tight with tension. He looks smaller under the fluorescent hospital lights, not the competent saviour of his team, but the little kid terrified of losing his family. "I saw it."

Eddie doesn't need to read that answer, hears it instead. Hears the: I saw the pain this time, let me fix it like I couldn't then. Hears the: I see you whether you like it or not.

"I heard it," Buck whispers. Eddie isn't sure whether or not he's meant to hear that, but then Buck is turning blazing eyes on him. "I heard it when I pulled you out, Eddie, and it killed me because I was the one making it worse."

"No, Buck." Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. "You saved me. You saved everyone."

"Please, just..." Buck drops his head with a sigh. "Let the nurse give you the meds, so she can get the hell away from you."

"Do you know anything about the others yet?" Eddie asks, too afraid of the raw quality of Buck's voice to worry about his own. Buck squints at him before his face softens.

"Hen's CT came back clear. She just pushed herself too much. Karen's already drafted up a screentime allowance for when she gets to take her home in a couple of hours." Eddie takes a deep breath, swallows down the fear that had gripped him when Hen had thrown up. Buck shuffles a little closer, the wheels of the stool squeaking with the movement. "Bobby's X-ray says his ankle's only sprained, shoulder's only dislocated. But they're keeping him overnight to keep an eye on any complications in his chest. Just in case." Another deep breath, another relief, another lingering fear. "The rebar missed everything important in Chim, but they're still in surgery patching him up, pumping him full of all the fluids he lost." Eddie exhales, a long, deep thing that makes his eyes water with gratitude. "Everyone's okay, Eddie," Buck reassures him.

Eddie turns to look at him fully then, examining Buck in a way he hadn't been able to at the bridge what with the pain, the fear, and Buck running around putting out whatever metaphorical fires combusted as they popped up. The right side of his face is caked in a paste of blood and dust that makes Eddie's stomach turn worse than the pain in his chest.

Before he can think it through, Eddie reaches up to cup Buck's jaw, swiping his thumb over the stubbled skin just under the lacerations.

"What about you?" he rasps, suddenly exhausted. Buck blinks lazily at him, blue eyes startlingly clear when they meet Eddie's, a small smile shifting the skin under his palm.

"Just some cuts and bruises," Buck tells him. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"If I promise to let you stick me with the drugs without bitching," Eddie turns to the sharp-eyed nurse, "will you let me clean and patch him up?"

"Deal." The nurse sighs heavily like its the best news she's heard all week and stabs him with the needle before he can even draw his next breath.

"Ow," he mumbles under his breath.

"Deserved it." Buck snorts.

The nurse slips through the curtain, gone just long enough for the meds to warm his veins, the pain fading into an aching hum under his skin. She returns with a box of wipes and an array of gauzes that Eddie accepts both gratefully and apologetically.

"I'm fine," Buck insists, but he makes no move to resist when Eddie tenderly cups his left cheek and reaches up to clean the right.

"Mhm." Eddie grits his teeth as inconspicuously as he can when the movement tugs uncomfortably at his ribs, unwilling to let Buck use his pain as an excuse to not be looked after. "They check you for concussion?"

"Yes, dad." Buck rolls his eyes, and Eddie tries not to think about the way Buck refers to him as dad with Christopher. Something must show on his face because Buck reaches out to touch gentle fingers to the medallion resting against his chest. Eddie's eyes sting with fresh tears. "I'll drive you home when Chim's out of surgery."

"Okay." Eddie uses the clean side of the wipe to clear Buck's face of dust. "Does Chris know about..."

"Yeah." Buck nods. "Told him we'd be a little late, but that we're both okay. He's gonna be gentle when he hugs you."

"Just as long as I get a hug, you know?" Eddie laughs wetly, dropping his head back against the wall. His eyes roll back to Buck. "Thank you."

Eddie doesn't know what magic words will erase the lingering tension in Buck's frame, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Christopher will because Chris always knows just how to save Buck. Has saved him over and over again.

My best friend's daughter...

Eddie grabs Buck's hand where it had dropped onto the edge of the mattress and squeezes once. Buck squeezes back twice in return. Neither of them knows what it means. Not yet.

For now, they just sit together and wait.

[h50europe]

Summary:

Post mortem 8.06. Digging into Tommy's past. About two months into their separation. Neither is happy and wants to admit that things shouldn't have ended that way. TOMMY: The look in the mirror shocked him. Last night was a huge mistake, and the guy he just kicked out of his bed didn't deserve the way Tommy treated him. No, they didn't get down to business. Tommy was so wasted that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

[eirabach]

Private Number, it had said, and he'd ignored it the first time. Thought, probably extended warranty crap, and carried on spooning seeds from fruit the way Bobby had taught Buck and Buck had taught him.

Chicken and pomegranate salad. Shared out across the station table, fresh and a little bitter on too hot Sunday shifts not distant enough, yet, to feel soft in his memories.

But Chris had been opposite him, elbows on table, nose in a book, and it — it hadn't hurt. He hadn't hurt, at that moment. He hadn't thought —

Private Number

Chris had looked up, cocked his eyebrow at him, his perfect mirror image.

Aren't you gonna answer it?

And because Chris had said it, because Chris was there and nothing, nothing hurt for once —

He did.

---

He doesn't drive. The Prius wouldn't make it. He wouldn't make it; not ten hours cooped up with his knees by his ears, stomach at his feet, heart ripped in two, bleeding pomegranate bright on a flea market table in El Paso, tattered and torn on a laboratory floor in LA.

He books a flight. Asks, God for once, asks, Chris what he wants to do, and Chris puts his hand on his shoulder. Squeezes, tight, strong, says, Go, don't worry about me. I can handle Grandma for a week, and hardly even let's his voice shake when he adds, You're gonna come back, right?

I'm gonna come back, he'd promised. Tells himself as El Paso falls away from under them.

I'm gonna come back.

He folds his hands over the prayer book in his lap, leather cover soft and battered and not his. Not his. Can't ever be, shouldn't be his. He'll give it back, somehow. Bury it with Bobby, with Shannon, with all the bits of himself he drops and can't ever pick back up.

Because some of him never left. Is buried, dust and bone, in California dirt. Faded evidence sprayed across an intersection. Tucked into the corner of a kitchen on South Bedford Street.

There will be less of him, now. To come back. But he has to go. He has to. He has to come back. He has to.

The engines spool down for cruise. The woman next to him opens her laptop. Netflix. Two people are looking into each other eyes, their lips are moving. One is crying, and crying, and crying.

Eddie closes his eyes.

And prays.

[jamiesfootball]

Summary:

Five voicemails Ted left for Jamie after he was sent back to Manchester.

Whumptober Day 1

Prompt: "If only we could hold on"

[imthedr3amer]

📖 Fic rec: SPN, Wincest, Mature📱

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Character: Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Episode Tag, Angst, Demon Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Masturbation, Episode: s10e01 Black [Extra tags by @imthedr3amer: Voicemail Messages, Canon Compliant]

Language: English

Stats: Published: 2014-10-09 Words: 2,000

For Your Lover's Lover's Alibi

(orphaned fic)

Summary: Tag to Black (10x01). “This is Dean’s other other cell. So you must know what to do.”

[This fic may be orphaned, but I believe all effort deserves kudos and a comment. 🫶]

[dyed-red]

I voted for priest Sam hair! Not only because it was the correct choice, but, hey, bribery! So for a mini Dickey, a choice between outsider POV of the boys being weird about each other or late seasons domestic!Winchesters? If neither of those work for you, write something you like 😁

I love that my bribery accomplished nothing, because everyone taking me up on the offer is someone who was already going to (or already had) vote for the correct choice anyway :D truly net zero impact on the poll, which is likely for the best.

and ahh, i do love both outsider PoV and domestic!chesters, so this is good. and in my typical fashion, my answer is:

Set after 12x11, "Regarding Dean".

They're very beautiful boys is the thing. Well, not the thing, but certainly part of it. Rowena thinks that anyone would be hard-pressed to judge her somewhat embarrassing lack of self-preservation in this regard, if they too got to experience the full effect of Sam Winchester imperious gaze or Dean's intermittently roguish and boyish smiles.

That or, like so many before her, she truly just did contract Winchester Derangement Syndrome. Oh well.

She'd wanted to skirt out of town quickly, after helping fix up Dean's memory. It would be the prudent thing to do. But it was also an opportunity, one that might not drop into her lap quite so easily again anytime soon, to get a read on the brothers without being observed herself. One had to wonder how they did it, held the world together with duck tape and a can-do attitude, considering how ordinary and brutish they'd seemed at first.

Well. Maybe not entirely brutish. Sam's command of Latin and spellwork had always intrigued her. But that was neither here nor there, and he wasn't accomplished enough a spellcrafter to see through the glamour that she wove around herself -- an angling and aging of the face, a darkening and straightening of the hair, a thinning of the lips and tinting to the eyes. Enough that, with an outfit passably dull, she could opposite to them in the pub where they made their way for dinner and rest before they'd set out in the morning. A quiet place on the outskirts of town, locals trudging work boots in and tired or sore from the day. Sam and Dean fit right in. They seemed to fit in most anywhere they went.

Better chameleons than even her glamour could afford her. A few hundred years and Rowena wasn't sure she'd perfected the art of invisibility as well as two men gorgeous enough to be on magazine covers. That was something.

She'd followed them in, waited across the parking lot, and wondered if Dean had injured himself somehow on the day's misadventures. She didn't recall anything, not much action except for at the end there, otherwise just Sam pasting sticky notes to objects and Dean becoming cuter and more bearable by the minute. She didn't recall anything, but Sam's hand never strayed from Dean's back as they made their way across the lot, and Dean never shrugged it off.

By the time she slipped inside, found herself a stool at a table with a view of their booth, they were seated across from one another. She'd never noticed, never bothered to, how far their legs stretched under a table, tangled up into each other's foot-space. At her height, not an issue she had frequently. But Sam was leaned back, fingers on the table, leg, ankle jostling against Dean's calf underneath it. He looked relaxed, and something in Rowena's chest eased at seeing it.

The curse was properly fixed then. Of course she wouldn't wait around in town just to be sure, she wasn't their minder and anyway she'd been certain it was fixed before they parted ways. Still though, confirmation never rankled.

Dean looked around and Rowena turned her gaze to the bland offerings on the menu and in her peripheral she heard his voice, not the words, and then Sam's laughter, loud and startled for a moment then quieter.

When she glanced over, Dean was grinning, leaned in, and Sam's face was so fond her own stomach felt a little gurgly, as if caterpillars (never butterflies) might take up residence.

There was a motion, quick dart, and Sam's hand was on Dean's. Overtop, maybe on his wrist. Rowena's caterpillars turned to lead -- waited with bated breath as their waitress came over and they separated, expressions shifting quick like guilty schoolboy -- and then burst forth into winged insects instead, fluttering around her insides. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes alight, and ignored the moths taking up residence inside of her.

Well, that was something then.

It wasn't all that scandalous, that kind of sin. Proscribed by the law of every place and time, but something you saw a time or twenty if you lived long enough. It wasn't as if she hadn't suspected. Her imaginings had been more brutal though, more teeth gnashing end-of-world anger with each other, clinging and messy and mad with it. Hand touches across the tables and -- the memory surfaced from earlier in the day -- delighted grins over the potential for a front row seat to some 'live skinemax', that hadn't been what she'd conjured up.

And oh, to be the live entertainer with Sam, to have pleasure made into a show for Dean's affections. Too bad Sam had to be so focused on fixing his brother, they could have had some real fun that afternoon. She certainly wouldn't have complained.

She ordered something herself, a salad and, because life was short, two types of dessert to follow. If there was some thing cold-blooded American capitalism had done right, it was egregiously portioned and delectably indulgent desserts.

The brothers ate, and laughed, and sighed across their bench from each other, seeming weary but well. Ordinary, but far from it. Their legs tangled deeper into each other's space. Dean's fingers drummed an absent pattern, no doubt from one of those rock bands he liked, and Sam nudged him with his leg and directed him to where some dart boards were setup. They brushed shoulders and elbowed each other, were close enough for her to catch snatches of their conversation. Teasing, mostly. Challenging, boyish one-upmanship. Flirting, quite obviously, when Sam's voice dropped to growl something in Dean's ear she couldn't catch, the tone of which had her stomach swooping anyway.

They left not long after, when her second dessert arrived. A little flavourless, in comparison. She left without bothering to finish, left town that night without dawdling any longer. The boys were good, and were comforting each other, and they owed her one. The rest was between them.

[rachelfivehundred]

Memory Monday! This H50 coda for the character of Jenna was written 13 years ago this month!

[the-coda-project]

The Coda Project | 1.05 Sinking in the Quicksand

Dean knows Sam noticed his eyes bleeding when they were fighting Bloody Mary, but Sam hasn't asked why. Dean spirals as he wonders what that means.

Toledo is three hours in the rear view, and Dean still has dried blood flaking at the edges of his fingernails. Itching under his collar.

He desperately needs a shower, but getting out of town before more cops arrived at the trashed antique store was a whole lot higher on the priorities list than stopping to wash up, and he'd had to settle for wiping the worst of it from his face with an ancient KFC wet wipe and a wad of napkins as he'd steered the car toward the interstate with his other hand. He's been fantasizing about hot water and a fresh change of clothes ever since. Now, as he glances down at the dashboard, he silently thanks his baby for the excuse that her near-empty fuel tank is giving him.

"Almost outta gas," he says aloud when he takes the next exit ramp, and in his periphery he sees Sam flinch at the sound of his voice. "You mind filling the tank while I hit the head?"

"Yeah, sure."

It's the first time either of them have spoken in hours.

Keep reading

[moviegeek03]

Hear Me Out Gabriel (Tarlos 4x18 coda)

3k | AO3

Summary: Carlos’s has been grappling with the idea of his father’s legacy. Does he follow in his footsteps and become a ranger? Does he stay in the job he always thought was right? Does he go for the detective job? With all the applications laid out before him, he doesn’t know what to do. Thankfully, his husband knows a thing or two about trying to live up to a father’s legacy.

Special thanks to @marjansmarwani and @lire-casander for encouraging and reading over this. Love you both for all the help and support with everything that’s been happening .

The loft was silent, eerily so. It was rarely like this. There was always noise. Car horns echoed up from the streets below. Neighbors downstairs shuffling about. People knocking and coming over, loud and excited. Hell, even the lizard in his cage usually let out soft sounds, his claws scratching against his glass.

But not tonight.

No.

Tonight was silent.

It was not welcome. There had been days in the past weeks where it would have been. When there were too many people coming and going. Too many worried faces knocking on the door. Too many muffled cries and sniffles. Too many condolences.

But not tonight.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. It came away damp. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying. He’d been too focused on the various papers and files in front of him. It was a familiar sight, yet very different tonight. He cleared his throat and poured another shot in his glass. It had been a gift. From someone. He didn’t remember who. There had been lots of gifts over the past month, for good and bad reasons.

He knocked the drink back, relishing in the burn. Tequila . Not his drink of choice. Not straight. Not like this. But it was someone’s favorite. Before. He poured more.

The papers stared up at him from the coffee table. He hadn’t been back in this spot in awhile. Not since the night he’d argued over what it would mean to be a Texas Ranger. And now, well, he was starting at the damn application. It felt like a standoff. It felt pointless. He sipped at his drink.

Continued on AO3

[dadupbuck]

🔒 locked for not ao3 users but got permission from the author to post

Title: i find you in everything (but its here you find yourself)

Written by withmeornotatall (@anxieteandbiscuits )

Rated: T

Catagories: m/m

Warnings: none

Relationships: Buck/Eddie, Buck & Christopher, Minor or background Relationships

Tags: kind of an episode coda, but not really, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, Buck and Eddie Communicate, homework as metaphor for parental love, Getting Together, First Kiss, Feeling Realization, the couch is a character itself, Christopher is a genius glad to finally have canon confirmation of that

Words: 3,223

Summary:

"I mean, she told me to take care of myself first. But, yeah," Buck takes another sig of beer, "she left."

"Sorry, man, I know you liked her." Eddie drops a hand on his shoulder, and Buck forgets who her is for a moment. "Guess where most people are scared of death, a death doula is scared of life."

"Wow, that's actually pretty poignant," Buck says. "Didn't know you had it in you." Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"Its weird, though," he says suddenly, dropping his arm from Buck's shoulder to the back of the couch. Buck shudders at the loss.

"What's weird?" he asks instead of examining that feeling too closely.

"Her being scared off by a donor baby." Eddie frowns over at him. "Chris didn't freak her out?"

(OR: buck and eddie finally talk about who buck is to christopher)

My notes: Probably one of my favorite episode codas! This fic was really good.