#fanfic coda

[eddiestightywhities]

also on ao3 HERE

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“So, I overheard this guy in the line at the coffee shop this morning talking about name meanings—”

“Of course you did,” Eddie interjects, not unkindly.

Buck turned up with beers about a half hour ago, and has had his head in his phone for the last, what, twenty minutes? Something like that.

This is the first thing he's said since Eddie let him in and he sat his ass down on the couch in silence, looking like he needed Eddie to just allow him to.

Eddie did.

“—and I thought I'd look up ours.”

He's chewing on his bottom lip like it tastes good.

Eddie surprises himself by wondering if it does.

“I'm guessing you already know what Christopher means.”

Thinking back to when Shannon asked if he liked the name, Eddie smiles.

“Means 'Bearer of Christ', or something, right? We chose it because was Shannon's grandfather's name, though. He was Greek, and she adored him.”

Searching fingers instinctively find his pendant. It's positioned to the left, sitting right over his heart.

He misses his son like he'd miss a lung.

Buck looks up at him and smiles back, and Eddie feels glad the release he'd found dancing 'round his living room earlier isn't going to suddenly disappear down the bathroom sinkhole, along with his moustache.

“So, tell me, what does Edmundo mean, oh scholarly one?”

Buck's eyebrows try to meet his hairline.

“You don't know?”

Eddie tips his head back against the couch and scrunches his mouth up into nose.

“I have sisters, man, of course I know what it means. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me.”

Buck seems somewhat happy with that.

“Well, it's a derivative of the Old English name Edmund, which is a combination of the words ēad and mund. The first part means prosperity, or riches, which is a bit of a bust, sorry man,” and he tries for a grin. It almost hits.

“But the the mund part means protector—which is pretty spot on, I reckon.”

Buck's eyelashes are kind of blonde, and kind of pretty. Eddie's thought it before, but there's just something about them in this light, in Eddie's house, on Eddie's couch.

“It's actually a real pretty name, Edmundo. Don't know if I've ever told you I think that.”

“Don't think I've ever told you your eyelashes are kind of pretty, so that makes us even, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at Buck, big and genuine, and somehow it's so easy.

Buck smiles back. Looks a little confused, or pleased, or both. Eddie's not sure, but either is okay with him.

“Um, thanks?”

Eddie bites his tongue between his teeth in a poor effort to stop his grin turning positively goofy.

Buck takes it for what it is, and bats his eyelashes at Eddie, silly, and laughs.

His whole demeanor then changes as he finally settles properly into the couch and gifts his lungs with what might be the first proper breath he's taken since he arrived.

“Anyway, Evan is the worst of the three. It means yew, like the tree? Which is—it symbolises, like, spirituality, and rebirth and shit like that. 'S not really, uh, me, you know?”

“You mean like Evan isn't really you?”

Buck bites at his red, red lip again.

Eddie decides it'd taste like cherry Chupa Chups.

“Yeah. But it's—my name.”

“Except it isn't though, it's it?” Eddie reminds him. “You're name is Buck, Buck. You decided that.”

“I don't know why he always insisted on calling me Evan. Or why I just—let him. It was kind of weird.”

Tommy.

"Called? Past tense?” Eddie flips his tongue in his mouth. Breathes a little more deliberately.

Buck looks at his phone again before he's slowly placing it down on the couch between them.

His fingers are touching the outside of Eddie's thigh, and Eddie's suddenly acutely aware that he still isn't wearing any pants.

Buck leaves his hand where it is.

“He, uh, he dumped me. Because I—”

Buck sucks in oxygen, a lot of it, and holds it in his lungs before puffing out his cheeks as he makes a show of blowing it back out again.

“I asked him to move in with me.”

Eddie was not expecting either of those statements.

"Ouch.”

Buck's fingers twitch against Eddie's skin, and Eddie feels it travel right down his leg and into his toes, which curl involuntarily into the carpet.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers, kind of knowing Buck doesn't. He will when he's ready.

“Not really.”

Eddie licks at his lips. They taste like beer, and a little like confidence.

“How about Buck?”

Buck looks at him, perplexed.

Eddie's leg is starting to cramp a bit.

He doesn't move it.

“A Buck is another name for a stag, right?” he continues. “And the stag symbolises strength and purity—

“Don't forget fertility” Buck is looking at Eddie, and it feels like something.

Eddie snorts. “'Course, don't wanna forget fertility.”

Buck smiles the first proper Buck smile of the evening, and Eddie's feels it in his chest.

“Hey, hang on, how come you know so much about stags, Edmundo?”

“You did that project with Chris about the forest.”

Buck blinks at him.

“Dude that was, like, years ago. And, as you said, I was the one learning all about the woodland creatures and different types berries and toadstools, so how do you—”

“Because you told me,” Eddie shrugs a shoulder.

Buck blinks some more.

“And you—remembered that?” he asks.

In this moment, Eddie couldn't blink, nor look away from Buck, even if somebody were to pay him.

“I remember everything you tell me.”

It's weird but it's like the air itself is crackling as they sit here, just staring at each other.

They look at each other for what feels like a long time. Or maybe it's just a single heartbeat, Eddie can't really be sure.

He watches as Buck swallows, his Adam's apple a calling card.

Eddie isn't entirely sure of why he thinks of that.

Until he is.

When Buck moves his hand, it's to slide it fully onto Eddie's thigh to just sit there, right at home.

Eddie's suddenly blinking so much he's a little worried he might be stroking.

He doesn't mean to say, “Can you smell toast?” but finds himself saying it anyway.

Buck smile is both crooked and adorable.

“You worried you're having a stroke, old man?”

“We'd have been at the same school at the same time, Buck. I'm not that much older than you.”

“You are old and I am young and everyone and the universe knows this,” Buck claims, cocky and sure of himself once more.

Eddie licks at his lips again.

“I, uh, I think I finally believe you.”

Buck now mirrors him, licking his own lips.

Cherry Chupa Chups.

“You mean about the universe?” he's asking, like he doesn't almost always knew what Eddie means.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

Buck waits.

Just as Eddie is thinking he really should go put some on some sweats or something, Buck must get impatient because he replies, “I think it always wanted you to believe.”

Eddie doesn't have a clue what time it is, or whether he had dinner or not, or how he got so damn lucky.

“I'm gonna choose to believe, because you believe—and I believe in you, Buck” he says, somehow both sure and unsure of absolutely everything that is to come.

At long last, he finds he is totally okay with that.

“Anyways, I can hear it now,” he tells Buck, “and I'm listening.”

.

unedited; pls be kind!

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edited version now found HERE on ao3 if you'd like to pop across and leave me a comment xp

[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.

[wallabywhump]

Post Episode 8x08 CODA/Continuation

Content: Light angst, Buck spiralling, Buck's abandonment issues/running thoughts/(has ADHD), BuckTommy hints at the end.

Word Count: 1,965

Started writing this when the episode ended, please enjoy!

---

The sign goes out front of Eddie's house two weeks later, Buck helps to dig the hole. Buck helps talk to the realtor. Buck talks Eddie down from a three-bed home with an attic office in a HOA suburb and helps him find a respectably sized two bed that will leave him with money to renovate the bathroom and add a ramp up to the door.

Buck bakes a million cookies and eats them while Eddie has meetings with realtors. He sets out sweet breads and muffins when Eddie has an open house, and he happily serves them to people, "yes, there is a gluten free option! I was playing around with xanthan gum, so it shouldn't- oh, you're too kind."

All through it all, Buck focuses on Eddie, and he tries to ignore the ball of panic that's growing and growing and growing, as Eddie calls his mom and dad, and talks to Chris, and they're discussing going to view the home together and-

"I'll be there in two days, buddy!" Eddie says to Chris, a smile wide on his face while he put the autographed picture of the Hotshots cast into a wallet to keep it safe. "I can't wait to see you; we can talk without it lagging."

Buck takes a deep breath.

"Buck's not coming, LA won't survive if we both are off work."

Buck takes the butter off the heat, starts mixing in the sugar.

"I was talking it over with Grandpa, and we can go to the aquarium while I'm there. I'll even get to cheer you on in your chess match."

Chris groans. "You don't cheer during chess matches, dad, you have to be quiet."

Eddie laughs, and Buck needs to savor that sound. Needs to bottle up the sound of his best friend, and the kid he loves to the moon and back, teasing each other because he doesn't know how long he'll have this for. "Well, okay, you'll just have to teach me what to do, Mijo. I've never been to a chess match before."

The flour comes out of the microwave and Buck mixes that in, the soothing fold-fold-fold making his raging heart beat easier to ignore.

"You've never played chess before," Chris teases.

Buck spares a glance at Eddie, and he's fondly smiling at the tablet, and he says, "Well, you'll have to teach that too. Need to understand how you're winning, kid."

Buck is trying his best to be happy for Eddie, desperately putting his issues to the side, he hasn't even mentioned Tommy with all the baking he's been doing.

Eddie, graciously, hasn't mentioned how Buck has gone back to how he was the exact week after Tommy dumped him.

Or perhaps Eddie hasn't noticed with all the preparation and the legal jargon and clearing out everything to make the house look pretty for viewings, and Buck-

Buck really wants to talk to someone.

Eddie's leaving, Bobby is busy building a house, Hen, Maddie, Chimney-

Everyone's moving forward towards something happier. And Buck's stuck trying not to tie his best friend to a city with his sad puppy dog eyes and a pout, all while missing his ex so much that focusing on Eddie leaving drowns out that pain and fills it with something different.

"Buck?"

Buck jumps, dropping his spatula into the bowl. "Huh? W-What's-"

"Chris hung up, he's got school tomorrow."

Buck picks his spatula up, continues mixing his cookie dough. It's as he folds a third time that he notices he forgot the chocolate chips.

"More cookies?"

Buck forces a smile on his face, ignores the floundering puttering in his heart that tells him he needs to call someone before this becomes unsustainable. Baking isn't distracting him, it's not-

He wants Eddie to stay, he wants Chris to come home, he wants a barbecue in Bobby's backyard with his family-

He wants to call Tommy.

"It's for the viewing tomorrow," Buck says, proud of how even his voice sounds, how it doesn't even sound like a lie.

Eddie sidles up to the counter, looking into the bowl. "You don't have to try buttering up potential buyers with sugary goods. I know you set a precedent for the first one, but I don't want you to feel like you have to."

Buck puts the bowl and spatula down and bumps his hip into Eddie's as he starts greasing up the pan. "If I sweeten them up, maybe they'll actually buy, and you can leave quicker."

The free-sounding tease is easy, it's easy to fake, it's been easy to fake since that day he picked up the tablet and saw the houses. It's been easy to fake since Tommy dumped him, and he had to crawl out of his home and go to work and look somewhat put together, so no-one was scared on their calls. It's been easy to fake since Abby left him at the airport, and with a home that wasn't quite his, and an uneasy feeling in his heart that she wasn't coming back. It's been easy to fake since he was sixteen years old, and Maddie was leaving and-

Maddie, Abby, Tommy, Eddie.

People leave, and that's okay, and it's selfish to force them to stay. No matter how much he wished they would choose to stay.

Buck scoops out a glob of dough and drops it onto his pan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, bud, I'm gonna have a beer while you finish with...that."

Buck sets up the mixer to bake a cake after he puts the cookies in the oven.

---

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and spirals.

The goodbye wave feels robotic, despite knowing that Eddie will be back in a week, even if it's just to start packing up his life to move it hours away. His phone sits in the dock on the dash, and Buck-

Buck doesn't have anything to distract himself from the yawning emptiness inside him.

Nothing to put his mind to, nothing to focus on, just a whole lot of nothing.

The nothing that has been eating away at every positive thought and coping skill he'd put into trying to ignore how much he missed Tommy. The way Tommy would rub his arm and pull him in for a hug when he was feeling low. How Tommy would sarcastically tease him when his anxiety spiked, until Buck couldn't even remember he'd been anxious. How they could sit in silence and not have to chat, and it was just peaceful, and it put Buck at ease, and Tommy wouldn't even mention when Buck's leg started tapping, he'd just put a hand on Buck's knee and lean his weight into-

Fuck.

Tommy would have been a rock through this, platitudes about Eddie not being dead, stop panicking. "I can fly a helicopter, babe, just say the word and you can visit."

Except, Tommy isn't his rock anymore. He's a hurricane that has Buck unmoored and swirling in an abyss of panic and loneliness and, fuck, shit, fuck, Buck has to talk to someone. Or bake something. Or go to the middle of nowhere, with no reception, and scream at the sky.

Everyone's busy. Eddie's on a plane. No-one...he has-

"Buck?"

Buck jolts, staring down at the phone now in his hand, Tommy's face filling the screen, his nose scrunched and looking confused, concerned and cold all in one expression.

So closed off.

"I-I didn't mean to call," Buck whispers, his voice weak and thready even to his own ears. "Hi. Uh, I'll just, uh, hang up."

Except Buck doesn't, he stares at Tommy and feels his heart stutter.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, and Buck watches the cold melt off Tommy's face, leaving only confusion and concern.

"What's happening, Buck?"

"I...just dropped Eddie off at the airport, and I'm sitting at the drop off spot in the taxi ranks, and-"

Tommy's confusion disappears, and his eyes soften, and he's openly concerned and it's like a knife in Buck's chest.

Buck lets out a hoarse laugh. "I've held it in for weeks, not calling, and my best friend leaves and it's like I can't help it- Jesus." Buck runs a hand down his face, he feels like a mess.

"Why did you call me, Buck?"

Because it was habit for six months straight, because every time Buck's been sad since the breakup he's had to physically remove himself from his phone to stop himself from calling Tommy, because Buck just wants to have Tommy as his, and he can't seem to move on despite everyone else seeming able to.

"Everyone else...is moving forward, making families and living their lives, but I'm-"

Buck should hang up, forget about this, say 'sorry, bye asshole', and block Tommy's number once and for all.

Except-

"I'm stuck, stuck on that day in my loft, wondering what happened and how that occurred, and all I've wanted since the day it happened was to call you and fix it or-or, I don't know...I just feel so incomplete here. Unsatisfied. Nothing-nothing makes sense."

Buck rolls on.

"And Eddie told me not to call, so I didn't, except then Eddie decided he wanted to move to Texas and I couldn't be selfish and ask him to stay, so instead I've been helping him, helping him leave my life, because then at least I helped control it."

Buck chokes up.

"Because he's an adult with different priorities, and he can make his own decisions and it's my job as a friend to support him, and I guess you'd know that too if you still talked to him, or hey, maybe he would have stayed for you." He's fucking it up, finally got Tommy on the phone and rather than giving Tommy all the reasons they could work, and he should stay, he's dumping all his fears about Eddie leaving. "And I- I'm not making sense, I'm all over the place, this is not what I wanted to say at all, I had a whole speech about how I love you, and I deserved better, and-"

"Are you safe to drive?" Tommy asks, his voice cutting through Buck's monologue.

Buck bites his lip and nods his head. Of course, Tommy doesn't want to hear about his problems, they're broken up.

"Yeah, yeah, I..." Buck sniffs, wipes at his face despite it being dry, and forces a smile on his face. "I'm just a little sad, sorry for calling."

Tommy shakes his head, and he looks like he's in physical pain, and God, Buck feels like an asshole. He's so selfish, and he should have just thrown his phone out and got a new number after the breakup if he knew he was just going to trample over boundaries.

"No, don't be s- I mean, okay, okay. This sounds like- Eddie left? No, this is a conversation for in person," Tommy sounds just as confused and lost as Buck, which isn't nice, because Buck expects Tommy to be a rock, to be steady, to be- well, that went out the window the night they broke up.

"In person?" Buck wonders aloud.

Tommy hums, and his nose scrunches up, and he puts a finger to the bridge of his nose. The video feed is shaking like the phone in his hand is shaking. Buck swallows and waits for whatever emotional turmoil Tommy is experiencing to pass.

"Drive yourself to mine," Tommy orders.

Buck stares at the screen in shock. "W-What? Tommy, I- no, I-" A taxi starts honking their horn behind him.

"Mine," Tommy repeats, sure, and despite everything it makes that emptiness in Buck feel a little smaller, like Tommy is filling it with just the promise of a conversation. "Sounds like you need to get going. See you soon, Evan."

Tommy hangs up, and Buck spirals, but he starts the car anyway and drives to Tommy's with a spark of something in his chest.

[chronicowboy]

Buck is stood staring at his couch with a wrinkled nose when a frantic knocking rips him from his thoughts. Frowning, he skids over to the door on socked feet and yanks it open to reveal a harried Eddie and sheepish Christopher.

"Tell me you aren't busy," Eddie pleads, already pushing into the loft to set down two dangerously full grocery bags on the kitchen island.

The loft suddenly seems a lot brighter, feels a lot warmer.

"I'm not busy," Buck replies as he shoots a questioning look at Christopher who only bites his lip and looks away.

"Oh, thank God." Eddie grabs him by the shoulders with a grateful smile before taking a deep breath. "I am. Busy. Like incredibly busy."

"Okay..." Buck narrows his eyes at him. "So, I'm hanging out with my favourite Diaz then?"

"Hold the thought on that favourite bit," Eddie huffs, dropping his hands. Buck's shoulders turn cold at the loss, he shrugs the absence off. Eddie turns to Christopher with his arms folded over his chest and an arched eyebrow. "Want to tell Buck what you decided to tell me at four pm this afternoon?"

"Fine," Chris sighs, looking up at Buck guiltily. "I need to bake cookies for my whole class."

"Sure, we can do that." Buck frowns, sharing a look with a still frantic Eddie. "When do you need them for?"

Christopher averts his eyes. Realisation dawns on Buck, and he shares a knowingly unimpressed look with Eddie.

"Tomorrow," he mumbles.

"Chris," Buck groans.

"I know, okay?" Chris groans right back. "I forgot. I'm sorry. Will you help me? Please?" He breaks out his patented puppy eyes, and Buck has to try hard not to laugh at the notion he wasn't going to help Chris all along.

Buck steals a look at an apologetic Eddie, shakes his head in a way he hopes conveys I've got your back.

"Of course I will, Chris, you know that." His eyes snap to Christopher when Eddie's face melts into that dangerously fond expression. He's been seeing a lot more of it ever since he woke up from his coma, and it makes him feel a little like a lightning bolt trapped in a human body. He doesn't know what to make of it.

"You are a lifesaver," Eddie tells him seriously, pulling him into a quick hug. "I've gotta get over to Pepa's, but I'll be back around dinner time, okay?"

"Oh, I see," Buck tuts. "You just want to reap the benefits of all our hard work."

"Obviously." Eddie pulls one of his patented frog faces. "I wasn't trying to hide that."

"Lazy good-for-nothing," Buck says, except it comes out sounding much more like you're everything.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Who here was asleep for a wholeass week?" Eddie retorts.

"Ass," Chris snickers.

"Don't," Buck and Eddie scold in unison, sharing a bashful smile. Chris just rolls his eyes.

Buck tries not to preen at how natural all of this is, thinks of Bobby's words in the engine just before lightning struck.

Life's too short to take those relationships for granted.

Buck has seen his world without the Diazes in it, he'll never take them for granted again.

"I don't think a coma is technically considered sleep," Buck argues, just happy that Eddie isn't flinching away from the reminder of the accident like he used to.

"Well, you weren't snoring," Eddie concedes.

"I don't snore!"

"Buck, the only reason I felt okay leaving you sleeping on the couch to make Christopher's lunch was because I could hear you breathing all the way from the kitchen." Buck tries not to think about a worried Eddie hovering over him, fingers itching to reach out and find a pulse, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen because he didn't want to leave Buck alone. "You snore."

"You snore," Chris agrees.

"Betrayal!" Buck gasps. "We're making oatmeal raisin cookies."

"Nooooooo!" Chris cries. "Buck, please!"

"Do I snore?" Buck demands.

"Nope." Chris grins.

"Chocolate chip it is."

"Double chocolate chip?" he tries, eyes wide and sparkling. Buck loves him desperately.

"Nice try, kid." Eddie drops a hand onto Christopher's head. "You get double chocolate chip when you tell us more than one day in advance."

Something warm and content settles in Buck's gut at the ease of Eddie's us.

"Buck?" Chris pouts up at him.

"Nah, not gonna work on me." Buck shakes his head, folds his arms over his chest. Eddie sends him a smile, the small and private one that tucks itself into Eddie's rosy cheeks, the one that Buck's pretty sure he'd return from the dead just to see again.

"Okay, well, you two have got it under control." Eddie ducks down to drop a muah! on Christopher's head, presses a quick one to Buck's cheek. "I'm off! Love you both, see you for dinner!"

Eddie sweeps out of the door in a whirlwind of frantic energy. Buck just watches him go, mouth half-open in a soft 'o' as the skin of his cheek tingles where Eddie's lips had been. He stares at the closed door with wide eyes, stares for so long his mouth goes dry.

Maybe he does have the answers, maybe he's had a couch all along.

A sharp tug on his shirt pulls him from his trance, and he looks down at Christopher.

"Cookies?" he says, entirely too knowing for an eleven-almost-twelve-year-old.

"Cookies," Buck nods.

[theotherbuckley]

7x07 coda

Eddie knows that what he’s doing isn’t right. He knows that. That’s why he lies to his best friend. That’s why he lies to his son.

I mean, what is he going to say? “I saw someone who looks like your dead mum and now I’m going on a date with her.” He knows Chris would call him out. But he can’t not do this. She looks so much like her. Sounds so much like her. He gets the same feeling, the connection, the longing he had for her. 

He knows shes not her. He does. He tells himself one hundred times in front of the mirror after he sees her for the first time. She’s not Shannon. The hair’s all wrong. What he’s doing is wrong, he’s using her to fix some broken part of him that’s stuck in the middle of the street, lying on the road of the pedestrian crossing. So he knows it’s wrong, but he can’t make himself stop. When she asks him out for dinner he doesn’t say no. In fact, he says yes faster than he can even process her question. She smiles at him, her eyes crinkle at the edges exactly like Shannon. She tells him she can’t wait. He nods, smiles back. He can’t wait either. He ignores the way his insides squirm, begging him to think about his actions. He’s done thinking. This is his wife! How could he ever say no?

He wears the cologne that Shannon bought for Christmas. The last Christmas. She enters the restaurant and sits down in front of him. He tells her she looks beautiful, because she does, she always did. She’s wearing clothes that he knows Shannon would never pick herself but this isn’t Shannon, this is Kim. She’s close enough. 

She talks about her job, about her favourite things, and how much she likes the beach. Shannon always did like the beach. Eddie tells her about Chris. He cracks jokes he hopes will make her laugh and they do. He tries not to focus on the way her laugh is just slightly off in a way he can’t explain. 

Eddie pays for dinner, he pays as though he’s trying to make up for all the times that he let Shannon down. He walks her to her car. Lets her take his arm as though she belongs there. He kisses her good night. Ignores the way her perfume smells all wrong, smells too strong, almost pungent. Shannon always preferred muted scents, a floral hint. He kisses her anyway. Kisses her hard, like he’s trying to consume her, consume any piece of his dead wife that he can. 

She tells him she had a great time. She’d love to do it again. He nods and smiles as she leaves. Ignores the way his heart beats a little too fast. He watches her walk away.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and it startles him, his attention quickly turning from her. He wonders if it’s Buck. If maybe something happened to Chris. He can’t stop his mind from going there. 

It’s not him.

Marisol asks him if they’re still on for tomorrow. They had plans to try out the same restaurant he just left. Maybe that’s why that place had been on his mind. Eddie inhales. He ignores the tightening in his chest. It was his wife, he didn’t cheat. He’s already married. 

He’s sends his girlfriend a thumbs up. He bites his lip, wills the ringing in his ears to quiet. Tries to think of jello.

There’s jello in his veins, smoothly flowing. His legs are jello, arms are jello. Breathe breathe breathe.

He can’t breathe.

He closes his eyes shut tight. Clenches his fist until the nails dig into his skin. He inhales. Holds for four. Exhale. 

Opens his eyes. He can see the parking lot, the black jacket he’s wearing, his hands, knuckles white. He can see the dark night sky, a couple walking down the street.

He can feel the label of his shirt itching at his neck. Feel the cold air on his fingertips and the wind running through his hair. He can feel the weight pressed firmly on his shoulders.

He can hear his heart beating loud in his chest. The sound of someone laughing softly in the distance. A car beeping its horn.

He smells his own cologne. He smells hers too. 

Tastes the regret on his tongue 

He takes out his phone with shaky hands. The phone rings not even three times before Buck’s unmistakable voice sounds through the screen. “Buck, I—I think I’ve made a mistake.”

[wikiangela]

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)

bucktommy rating: G words: 5.6k summary: Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later. or, 7x05 from Tommy's POV.

[read on Ao3]

It’s honestly a surprise when just a few days later, late in the evening, Tommy’s phone rings, and Evan’s name pops up. His traitorous heart beats a little faster when he answers the call and leans against the kitchen counter, where he’s been finishing up making a late dinner. “Evan?” he asks, confused but trying to play it casually. He’s good at that. He thinks years of pretending, trying to act straight, playing off gay jokes and even joining in to not make anyone suspicious made him way too good at acting cool and unbothered. He’s definitely surprised and excited, though. “Hey.” he smiles to himself. “Uh, hey- hi, Tommy, hey.” Evan stutters, and Tommy can imagine that flustered smile.  “Hi.” Tommy greets him again, grinning now. “Gotta say, I didn’t really expect you to call.” “I- I know, I just- I wanted to talk?” he says it more like a question, then huffs quietly, takes a breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee. With me. Tomorrow morning?” he says, sounding nervous but hopeful. And Tommy- Tommy has had a very hard time trying to say no to Evan, especially when he doesn’t actually want to. Besides, they can be friends, if whatever potential for romance didn’t work out. He’d be fine with that. He’s friends with Eddie, anyway, so he’ll surely have to be around Evan sometimes, and he doesn’t want it to be weird. “If you’re not- if you’re not busy? “Yeah, okay.” Tommy responds, trying to ignore the excitement swirling in his stomach at just the thought of seeing Evan. “I can do morning. What time?” “Uh, how’s nine? There’s this place I usually go to- I can text you the location? Or we can meet somewhere you like, that’s totally-” “Evan.” Tommy interrupts softly, still smiling. Even over the phone, even still this nervous, Evan is just adorable. “I’m sure your pick is fine. Just text me, and I’ll be there. Tomorrow at nine.” he assures. He thinks if Evan wanted to meet right at this second, he’d be there in a heartbeat. Which is a surprising thought. He really didn’t want to get attached this fast, but there’s just something about Evan… “Okay.” Evan breathes out. “So- so I’ll text you.” he repeats. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow.” Tommy says, before Evan stumbles through a goodbye and hangs up, and Tommy just chuckles to himself. He’s curious what Evan wants to talk to him about. But he also needs to be careful, because he can see himself falling for him so fast and deep and easy. He shakes his head at himself. He’s being silly and ridiculous. Evan makes him feel silly and ridiculous and giddy, and Tommy doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this. 

[read on Ao3]

[dangerpronebuddie]

Hold me like you'll never let me go (1.5k)

"Oh! You didn't bring any baking?" Maddie asks as she opens the door for Buck to enter. "I... haven't felt like baking much," Buck says as he trudges in, gravitating to the kitchen. "Since you got over your ex boyfriend?" Maddie asks, a hopeful note in her voice. She takes two mugs from the cabinet and grabs the tea canister. "Since Eddie decided to move to Texas," Buck blurts out.

[read on ao3]

[diazsdimples]

How can this be wrong?

Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Explicit, 3.8k

A 7x09 coda where Tommy feels insecure about his place in Buck's life after the run in with Gerrard, and Buck fucks him in a supply closet to remind him about it.

“Evan, what’re you doing?” Tommy questions, his tone guarded as he lets Buck pull him through the thinning crowd. Buck guides them into the bowels of the station and stops in front of an insignificant looking door. He takes a quick glance around them before opening the door and pushing Tommy inside. The closet is more spacious than Buck had expected, but still small enough that he and Tommy are pressed close to one another. There are shelves full of ancient cleaning supplies, each bottle covered in a thick film of dust. He’s fairly confident no one’s been in here in years, judging by the state of the floors and the dust motes swirling in the air around them. Perfect. No one will think to look in here, then. Tommy looks around the closet with a vague interest. “Nice place,” he comments as he swipes his finger over a dusty shelf, wrinkling his nose as it comes back filthy. “You come here often?” “What’s going on with you?” Buck asks before he can stop himself, wincing at the bluntness of the question. “You seem… uptight.” Tommy doesn’t meet his eye as he replies. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m fine.” Buck arches an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. The double line of buttons on his dress blues dig into his arm uncomfortably. “You’ve been avoiding me all afternoon. Every time I touch you, you-you act as though I’ve flicked you with acid!” Tommy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as though massaging away a headache. Somehow, despite being able to bench press Buck’s weight and then some, Tommy manages to make himself look tiny, shrinking in on himself as he bunches his shoulders up to his ears and clasps his fingers in front of him.

Read the rest on ao3

[carlos-in-glasses]

✨✨Keep the Lights on✨✨

12k, E, 2 chapters. now on Ao3.

In a nightclub somewhere in Downtown Austin, Paul becomes a voice of wisdom when TK and Carlos are each flirted with by other men – and jealousy, confusion and a little bit of chaos ensues. Will our heroes end up going home together? (A 1x05 coda)

✨✨✨✨

It’s attempt number three of trying to lean coolly against Carlos' car while they wait for Paul to appear after finishing his shift.

TK descends into laughter again, and Carlos feels so fizzy he can't stand still. 

"He's going to walk out here and think we're a pair of idiots," TK whispers, shoving Carlos playfully.

"I'm happy for him to think you're an idiot." Carlos shoves him back. "But I want his first real impression of me to be more accurate than that."

"Nah, he already thinks you're hot and sophisticated," TK says, poking Carlos’ cheek. "So, it's time we prove him wrong."

"Shut up." Carlos tickles at TK's hip, a spot he discovered the thrills of the other night when TK writhed under him and creased into a snort-laugh. 

"I mean, we can't disprove your hotness.” TK chuckles against Carlos’ touch. “But your sophis– wait, I think he's coming!"

Chapter 1: Let me Hold Your Hand

Chapter 2: And Babe, I'll Make You Stay

Read on Ao3

[eddiestightywhities]

homeward bound | t | 3527

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He'd taken a breath. And then another. Then he'd forced a plastic smile onto his face and painted it with as much selfless understanding as he could muster and miraculously came up with, “Well, we should move this party to the couch,” before offering himself up as a Virtual Real Estate Meeting Wingman like a certified insane person.

See, Buck loves Eddie; other than Christopher and Jee-Yun, Eddie is Buck's most favourite person in all the world, and Buck only ever wants what is best for him.

So what in the ever-loving fuck was he doing helping the guy turn both of their lives into what would be an incontestable living hell?

OR

A Coda for s08e08 'Wannabies', including the making of plans, a little gift giving, and a lot of two six-foot plus extra Idiots In Love.

.

read it on ao3 HERE

[henwilsonmd]

post 6x18: some out-of-order vignettes | ao3

4251 words

“Buck,” said Eddie, trying to school his face into something less fond and amused. “That’s my couch.”

Buck turned from where he’d been happily showing off the new piece of furniture he’d gotten with Natalia the day prior. “What?”

“The couch,” Eddie repeated, with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You bought my exact couch.”

“No,” Buck replied with a shake of his head. “No, it’s definitely different.”

read on ao3

Eddie looked at it—a three-seater in dark blue, velvet-y fabric with square corners and deep seats to accommodate his long legs. They’d picked out some nice white decorative pillows for it, and it’s certainly brand-new looking, but—

“It’s totally the same.” Eddie gave up on hiding his smile.

Buck looked back to the couch, tilting his head to scrutinize it. After a moment, he sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Ah, fuck. It’s totally the same.”

Eddie groaned, letting his head thump back onto the edge of the cot behind him. “The pain meds are definitely kicking in.”

“Well, good,” snarked Buck from a chair next to him, attention half-focused on his phone in his hands. “That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Eddie sighed, long-suffering. “You too?”

“Yes, Eddie, me too.” Buck replied, thumbs flying as he tapped out something on the screen in his hands. Probably to Maddie. Probably about Chim. Who was probably okay. “Your ribs are fucking broken.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, staring at the ceiling. “And I know what they feel like. I’m fine, there was—other stuff going on.” He thought about that paramedic from the 133 shining a penlight into Hen’s eyes, frowning like he didn’t like the results and going back in to do it again. He thought about the constant jitter of Buck’s leg next to him, the constant worry for Bobby and Chimney who’d taken the other two ambulances before the three of them had managed to squeeze into another cab. “Besides,” Eddie pulled himself back on track. “Did you even get checked out?” He leveled Buck with a look that he hoped had more energy behind it than he had left.

Buck shrugged, powering off his phone with a click. “I’m fine.”

“There’s blood all over your face,” Eddie pointed out.

“Hen cleaned most of it up already.”

“There was more?”

“That’s—Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck said, turning towards him. “I scraped up my cheek and bit my tongue when I fell, and, sure, I’ll be a little bruised, but I’m fine.”

“You lost consciousness,” Eddie pointed out, and he swallowed around a dry throat.

“How… how did you know that?” Buck stuttered in reply.

Eddie gave his own shrug, picking at the edge of the right kneepad on his turnout pants. “I didn’t pass out. I radioed right after I’d gotten my bearings, but no one answered. Then, like, thirty seconds later you must have woken up.”

Buck, for a moment, held Eddie’s gaze with something so unbelievably devastated, and guilty—like the thought of not being able to answer Eddie’s call was the worst possible thing that had happened that day. Then he flicked his eyes down to the floor. “Okay, s-so, like, thirty seconds. I’m fine, Eddie. Really.”

Eddie frowned, thinking about those thirty seconds—an unbearable weight on his back, a growing pain in his chest, and the clawing panic as he listened to the silence stretching out on the other side of the radio and fought the mounting urge to plead, I’m still alive, please, I’m still alive down here.

And then how he’d breathed a hugely painful sigh of relief when Buck finally asked for a headcount, how he’d fumbled into his pocket for his St. Christopher medal and prayed—something he hadn’t done since that awful week of the coma. Prayed that he’d come home safe to his son, but also that Buck would be careful—that he wouldn’t do something stupid and destructive and reckless to save any of them.

That heady rush of gratitude when Buck had sawed the doors open, taking off his safety goggles and assessing Eddie’s situation with a calculating, heavy gaze.

Next to him, Buck cleared his throat, shifting in the chair. “Anyway, you broke three ribs, man. Let the meds do their job.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, leaning back into the pillows behind him. “Trust me, they are.”

Eddie sipped his Diet Coke, beer off-limits because he was still taking the Tylenol threes. “So, you finally got a new couch.”

“I had a couch before,” Buck pointed out, a matching soda in his hand for solidarity. “Kameron just—y’know, gave birth all over it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, snorting a soft laugh. “That must have been wild.”

Buck chuckled. “The baby didn’t want to wait, I guess.”

“Impatient little guy,” Eddie said. “Must be those Buckley genes.”

“Hey,” Buck protested, pointing a finger. “I can be plenty patient.”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed placatingly, but be noticed how there seemed to be something more behind the mirth in Buck’s eyes—the plastic pieces at the edges of his smile. He fought the urge to say I told you so—mostly because it would have been childish, but also because Buck hadn’t asked for his opinion at any step of the way, and Eddie hadn’t offered.

Eddie decided to wait him out—usually the best course of action when it came to Buck. Eddie understood intimately how much time it could take to parse through a mess of feelings in your brain and formulate them into words that would make sense to another person. Usually, Eddie would sit quietly and sip his beer while watching Buck’s feelings play out on his unguarded face, and after a minute or two Buck would haltingly begin to explain what had been going on with him.

Eddie had tried to explain that to Maddie when they’d both been nearly sick with worry over Buck’s post-coma mental state. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” Eddie had said over the phone. “You can’t force him to talk about it.”

“Eddie, you don’t know him like I do,” Maddie had protested. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

And Eddie had opened his mouth to say no, actually, I know him better than you, I know him better than anyone, but—that’s not true, is it? Why would Eddie know Buck better than his own sister, who’s spent the entire thirty years of his life caring for him, when Eddie’s only had him for—what, five years? Then subtract all the things they didn’t talk to each other about and all the issues they’ve had, and—yeah, who is Eddie to say what’s best for Buck?

And then Buck had knocked on his door and passed out on his couch and Eddie had felt righteously vindicated in a way that he almost wanted to rub in Maddie’s face, which was kind of bitchy of him to think.

So, Buck sipped his soda next to Eddie on his new couch, a storm of emotions clear on his face, and Eddie waited him out because that’s what he does.

Buck let out a sigh, and Eddie thought, here it is, he’ll let me in, and then— “Want to watch the Dodgers game?”

Eddie blinked. “Um, sure.”

And Buck turned on the TV.

Doubt roiled in Eddie’s gut.

“What about Hen?” Eddie asked, Buck’s hand tight on his arm as he helped him into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“Karen already took her home, she’s fine,” Buck replied easily, before he shut the door and rounded the front of the car.

He’d left when Eddie had been taken back for x-rays, taking an Uber back to the station to pick up his car so he could come back to get Eddie and drive them both home. Eddie absently wondered when he would get a chance to get his truck from the station parking lot.

Buck hopped into the driver’s seat, fitting his keys in the ignition but pausing before turning the engine. He fixed Eddie with a gentle, reassuring look. “Seriously, man, everyone’s fine. Athena’s with Bobby, Maddie’s with Chim, let’s go home.”

Eddie swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought about just how close literally every single one of them except Ravi had come to something far more serious than some hospital bills and time off work.

His gaze slid to Buck, who flashed him that small, soft, close-mouthed smile that Eddie rarely saw—the one that made his chest feel warm and gooey.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

The Dodgers were losing, and Buck wasn’t talking about it. Eddie tried not to either of those things get to him.

During a commercial break, Buck got up to throw their empty pizza boxes away, waving Eddie off as he moved to help.

When he came back into the living room, he paused under the overhang of the loft, just staring at Eddie.

“What?” he asked, a bit self-conscious.

Buck huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I bought your couch.”

Eddie snorted. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s flattering. You think I have good taste.”

Buck raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if that’s it. Half the furniture in your house is from Target.”

Eddie sputtered. “I—what’s wrong with Target furniture?”

Buck, lowering himself back onto the cushions next to Eddie, raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Nothing, man. I just—I don’t know if I would call it good taste.”

Having no comeback, Eddie just whacked him in the shoulder.

Buck laughed, playfully pushing his hand away. “Hey, c’mon, don’t start shit when I can’t retaliate.”

Eddie smirked. “Why? ‘Cause you know you can’t take me?”

“No,” Buck denied. “’Cause your ribs are still fucking broken.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Buck.”

“Well.” Buck crossed his arms, turning back to the TV as the next inning started. “Forgive me for wanting to be careful.”

For a moment, Eddie considered saying hey, maybe we should talk about how I could’ve almost died again? But Buck clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about the big things, and Eddie didn’t really want to think about that yet either, so he settled for bumping their shoulders together.

Buck leaned right back into him, and neither of them moved apart—the comforting warmth of the contact buzzing in Eddie’s brain like the alcohol he wasn’t drinking.

Eddie smiled down at his hands. “You like my couch,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck groused, slouching into the cushions as they watched a batter swing and miss yet again. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Are you sure you’re both alright?” Carla asked, a worried hand hovering over his elbow. “I caught some of the collapse on the news.”

Eddie flashed her a smile before turning to pour two glasses of water—one for him and one for Buck, who was off in Christopher’s room. “We’re okay,” he said. “A little banged up, but the doctors said I should be back to work in six weeks or less.”

Carla narrowed her eyes. “You better take that full six weeks.”

Eddie set the Brita down and met her gaze. “I’m fine, Carla. Really.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “I just—I worry about you, Eddie. Okay? I know you’d rather I didn’t, but I can’t help it.”

Eddie ducked his head and smiled, a bit, filled with that familiar half-disbelief that people really do care about him. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but—I was lucky today. That nothing worse happened, that—that Buck was there to pull me out.”

Carla scoffed. “Of course he was. I don’t think luck had anything to do with that one.”

Eddie tried to fight the blush off his cheeks—he didn’t know what to do with that. Carla’s surety that Buck would save him come hell or high water. His own surety that Buck would be ripping open the doors of that camper van any second now.

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything, Carla cleared her throat. “I should go. You up for a hug?”

“From you?” Eddie responded easily. “Always.”

Carla pulled him into a gentle-but-still-desperate embrace. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” With a frown, she brought a hand up to ruffle the wilting mess on Eddie’s head. “Your dusty-ass hair. Take a shower, alright?”

Eddie laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“It’s a little early for a welcome back party, don’t you think?” Eddie said as Athena hugged him in greeting, Christopher heading off in search of the other kids.

“You and Bobby are headed back tomorrow,” Athena pointed out.

“Yeah, and Chimney’s not back for another two weeks.”

“And you best believe I’ll throw another party for him.”

Eddie laughed, before venturing further into the house to greet everyone else. His ribs had healed perfectly, barely a twinge when he’d thrown himself onto the couch in triumph yesterday. Which—speaking of, Eddie’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket and he was doing a very good job of ignoring that.

Or, he was, until a lull in conversation found him standing alone in the kitchen and pulling it out of his jeans. No texts. Which—of course, they’d agreed to go for coffee after his shift on Friday, why would she text him before that—but, still. Eddie was nervous. Sue him.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment while he debates if it’s too much of a desperate move to text Marisol before they even go on a date. Christopher would know.

“Who are you texting?” asked a voice, and Eddie fumbled to turn off his phone and shove it in his pocket before someone could see… what?

He looked up to see Buck smiling at his antics, a beer in hand.

“Oh, it’s you,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the counter.

Buck sidled over to join him, staring out the windows at the backyard where the party was in full swing. “Just me. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie replied, for some reason hoping desperately that Buck wouldn’t ask him about—

“So,” Buck nudged an elbow into his arm. “Who were you texting?”

—fuck. Eddie wasn’t sure why this felt like something he didn’t want to tell Buck, to whom he tells everything, but… they don’t really talk about their girlfriends? It was always, always awkward, and it always left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

But, Eddie’s excited about this. Marisol probably won’t be the one, or whatever, but—still. Eddie was excited that his brain was finally in a place where he could think about opening up his life to someone and it wouldn’t send him into a panic attack that landed him in the ER.

And Buck asked.

And Eddie’s not in the habit of saying no to him.

“Um,” he started. “Do you remember Marisol? From the—”

“—yeah, yeah!” Buck cut him off. “So, you were texting her?” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing glint in his gaze.

Eddie blushed. “Yeah, uh… we’re going on a date?” he said quietly, a pit of dread or something similar opening in his gut.

Buck was quiet for a moment, and Eddie risked a glance at his face. He just caught the edge of something shocked and maybe fearful in his expression before it cleared and was replaced by one of those huge, sunny smiles.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaimed. “That’s great! Oh my god, man, this is awesome,” he enthused, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing him close.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, still unsure why part of him felt sick with guilt.

“Hey, ever notice how we always start dating at the same time?”

“No, do we?” Eddie lied, thinking about how he’d agonized over making the call and kept telling himself Buck’s with Natalia now, you should do this.

Buck laughed again, before he jolted with surprise and turned to Eddie, excitedly slapping him on the arm. “Dude! We can go on double dates now!”

Eddie frowned. “We didn’t last time.”

Buck shrugged. “Well, you didn’t like Taylor, so I figured—”

“I liked Taylor,” Eddie protested.

Buck snorted. “Uh, no, you didn’t.”

Eddie tilted his head in a you-got-me face. “I kind of didn’t. I thought you didn’t notice.”

Buck dropped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders again, making Eddie huff out a breath. “Oh, Edmundo, I always notice.”

No you don’t, Eddie thought, and then he ignored that.

“But,” Buck continued, a hesitation in his voice. “You—you like Natalia, right?”

Eddie didn’t really know her at all, except for how excited she’d been about Buck’s death-that-didn’t-stick and how angry that had made him. “Yeah,” Eddie lied again. “She’s good for you. And she has good taste in couches.”

Buck laughed, relieved. “Good. So—we’ll do a double date, yeah? Me, you, Natalia, Marisol.”

Fuck, no. Eddie thought. That sounds awful.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie said instead. “That sounds great.”

Eddie was in the kitchen, pre-heating the oven to heat up some frozen chicken tenders because he didn’t have the energy to cook anything else when he felt little arms wrap gently around his midsection. It hurt his ribs, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to dislodge his son—not when these hugs were becoming rarer and rarer each day.

“Hey, kid,” Eddie said, turning in the hold and dropping a hand onto Christopher’s head. “What’s up?”

Eddie had already seen him, when he popped his head into Christopher’s room to find him sitting with Buck, a careful hand brushing the wounds on the man’s cheek. The sight had made something massive and unknowable bloom inside Eddie’s broken chest, threatening to choke him. He’d tamped it down and hugged Chris hello before heading off to shower, but apparently that hadn’t been enough.

Chris looked up, propping his chin on Eddie’s sternum. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, a tightness in his voice betraying him.

Eddie smiled. “Me too.” Even though it sparked the ache in his side into a bona-fide pain, Eddie leaned over to drop a kiss onto Christopher’s head—something he barely tolerates anymore. “Hey, the doctors said I’d be good as new in six weeks. Think you can deal with having me around all the time for that long?”

Chris laughed, bright and happy, and Eddie’s heart sang. “I’ll try,” he joked, and then something clouded passed over his face. “Buck’s okay, too, right? His face is bloody.”

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie sighed. Usually, he would kneel down to meet Christopher’s gaze, but he settled for easing himself into a chair and ignoring the concerned look Chris was giving him. “Buck’s totally fine, he just got scraped up a little bit. And today was pretty—pretty scary. For both of us.” He swallowed down the urge to berate himself for telling his kid he was scared, and it seemed to be the right move, because Chris nodded along with wide, careful eyes.

Eddie sighed again, settling his hands on his son’s shoulders. “But—tell you what. Buck’s gonna stay with us tonight, and he’s pretty bad at taking care of himself, right?” Chris giggled at that, and Eddie smiled in response. “So you and I are gonna have to be sneaky about taking care of him tonight, okay?”

Eddie expected Chris to give another sweet smile, and maybe to offer some comfort so earnest and childlike in its innocence that it made everything in the world feel right again, so he wasn’t quite sure to do when Chris burst out into loud, raucous laughter.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” he said, playing at being annoyed.

“It’s just,” Chris managed through his massive smile. “That’s exactly what Buck said. About you!”

Eddie just blinked in response, and Chris fell into peals of laughter again. “Okay,” Eddie said with mock-offense. “Okay, I see how it is. Gang up on the injured guy, why don’t you.”

“Da-ad,” Chris whined, fixing him with a very grown-up look. “We just care about you.”

Eddie pursed his lips, that unknown emotion threatening to drown him again. “Yeah,” he said, more choked-up than he would like. “I know.”

A small hand covered his, and Eddie flipped his own over to give it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go put on the next episode of María, okay? We’ll translate for Buck.”

Chris smirked. “You mean you’ll translate for Buck.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Eddie offered as Chris disappeared into the living room.

And later, when they were all piled on the couch, Christopher giggling at Eddie’s half-assed translations and Buck protesting that he understands more Spanish than you think, guys, the newest dose of pain meds forced upon him by Buck making his head more than a bit fuzzy, Eddie thought to himself: I wish it could be like this forever.

Buck shouted in exaggerated outrage to make Chris laugh, gesturing at some ridiculous plot point playing out on the screen, and Eddie let that huge wave of feeling bowl him over—that world-ending, all-consuming love.

Just this. Forever.

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Hen said, a hand raised to keep Eddie quiet. “He has this whole thing about his girlfriends being couches, and the couch he finally bought is your couch?”

Feeling somehow embarrassed, Eddie just nodded. Hen shared a smirk with Chimney, sitting on the lawn chair that Maddie hadn’t let him move from for the entire party.

“That’s like—almost romantic,” Chimney snorted.

“What?” Eddie said.

“He’s been looking for the perfect couch, but it was yours all along!” Chim crowed, and Hen dissolved into giggles. She was definitely more than a little drunk.

“It’s so sweet, Eddie, come on,” she needled.

“Well, sure, but—” Eddie sputtered. “—romantic? Come on, guys.”

“No, you—you come on.” Hen said around a hiccup. “You guys are—Buck and Eddie! Eddie and Buck!”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied with a frown. “And you guys are Hen and Chim.”

“Nah, no, no, no,” Chim said with a wagging finger. “It’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?” Eddie threw his hands in the air, one hampered by the half-full bottle in his hand. “You guys are partners, just like us.”

“Yeah, but,” Hen said. “You guys are partners,” she explained, trying for some hand gesture that must have gotten lost in the all the alcohol and rush of the party because she just ended up clasping her hands together awkwardly.

“You guys are crazy,” Eddie said with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“And you’re crazy about Buck,” Hen said in an it’s-so-obvious whisper.

Eddie drew back. “What?”

“Hen—” Chimney started, a hand on her arm.

She shook him off. “No, I gotta—Eddie, you and Buck are like, perfect for each other. You love him, right?” Her eyes were wide and earnest behind her glasses.

“Of course I do,” Eddie said automatically.

Hen gestured emphatically, whacking Chim on the shoulder like this proved her point.

“Hen,” Eddie said gently. “Did you forget that I’m straight?”

Hen scowled, like she did not want to be reminded of this fact. “Okay, but like—if Buck was a girl, you would have asked him out by now. You’d be like—fucking married by now.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but found his mind stuck on Hen’s words. If Buck was a girl. Him and Buck, married. Eddie felt far drunker than he should be off just one and a half beers.

“Eddie, ignore her,” Chim cut in.

Hen frowned. “I’m going to find Karen,” she declared.

Eddie watched her retreating form, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “He’s my best friend,” he said belatedly.

“Eddie.” Chimney kicked his leg. “Ignore her, okay? She’s drunk.”

“Yeah, but—” Eddie started.

“Look,” Chim sighed. “We joke about you and Buck sometimes, okay?”

“You do?” Eddie asked.

“Little stuff,” Chimney assured. “Just, like, you’re each other’s favorite person and you’re missing what’s right in front of you, or whatever.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, to refute—what?—but Chim continued.

“But they’re just jokes, okay? We know you’re both straight. I mean, it’d be great if you weren’t, or whatever, but that’s not the world we live in.”

Eddie’s jaw closed with a click. He sipped his beer.

“He’s your best friend.” Eddie looked back to Chimney. “And that’s—” He seemed to search Eddie’s face for a moment. “That’s enough, right?”

Eddie swallows. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Exactly,” Chim agreed with an easy smile. “So, don’t worry about it, okay? She’s just drunk and forgot that we don’t make those jokes in front of you guys.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. Besides, Buck has a girlfriend, and—I have a date on Friday, so…”

“You have a date on Friday?” Chimney exclaimed. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, voice flat.

Chimney clapped him on the forearm, unable to reach his shoulder from his sitting position. “Look, man, you’ll find that perfect girl-version of Buck out there, okay? I believe.”

Eddie chuckled. “Sure.”

He looked out to the party—his eyes immediately found Buck, head thrown back in laughter at something Athena had said. The string lights of the backyard made his styled curls shine with a honey-colored fire, his fingers curled carelessly around the neck of a beer bottle made Eddie’s mouth feel suddenly dry.

Just this. Just you, Eddie thought.

“You���re right,” he said to Chimney with a hollow smile. “I’ll find someone.”

[wallabywhump]

“So, thinking of texting Buck, huh?”

Tommy looked at the water stain on his ceiling, and reached to pinch the bridge of his nose, before letting out a long sigh. His nose felt stuffy, and his head was aching too much for this. “This really why you’re calling Eddie?”

“Of course it’s why I’m calling, I wanted to know what kind of text you were going to send my buddy.”

Tommy was going to text Evan, ‘I’ve got your stuff if you want it,’ then he’d deleted it.

Then he’d typed, ‘coffee, same place? Saturday?’ and snorted before spending fifteen minutes sobbing in the bathroom pulling tissue after tissue off the roll.

Then he’d typed, ‘I’m so fucking sorry, I know I messed up. I heard the word marriage, I heard admire, I heard move in and it was like I was watching a car crash in front of me and I couldn’t stick around for the aftermath. I needed to run. Run before you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. Run before you realized that I wasn’t enough. Run before we could both get hurt after two years of living together, and a mortgage, and a funny looking cat that will die six months after you break my heart. And, Evan-’

Tommy had turned his phone off after that one, gone for a run, then watched a movie while shoveling a stupidly cheap Walmart sheet cake into his mouth and sobbing when the mains admitted they loved each other and kissed in the rain.

Then, this morning, drunk off his ass on the good whiskey he usually saved for special occasions, he had typed, ‘I love you, Evan.’

This afternoon, trying his best to not vomit from the light in his bedroom, he’d finally typed, ‘Can we talk?’

Tommy had deleted them all.

“How do you even know?”

 “You were ‘bubbling’ Buck while he was at work.”

Oh.

Well, okay then.

That…implied that Evan was opening their messages…why? Was he expecting a text? Was Evan going to text Tommy? Even after that atrocious break up, and ruining the best thing that had ever happened for him? Did Evan want Tommy…to chase?

Impossible, Tommy put the thought out of his mind.

Tommy swallowed. “Next time I get the urge, I’ll open the notes app.”

Eddie groaned down the line. Tommy could hear the gestations Eddie was making, could see Eddie in his mind’s eye throwing his hand up in the air and turning around in exasperation. “Man, what were you going to say to him?”  

“Does it matter what I have to say?” Tommy snapped, then closed his eyes. “Why are you calling, Ed?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, long enough that Tommy almost worried he’d been hung up on, but he didn’t want to open his eyes to check.

“I wanted to check on you. I want to check that you’re both going to come out the other side of this. I want to check that you’re not going to cause more hurt.”

Tommy scoffed. “This isn’t my first break up, Eddie, I’ll be fine. And hurting Ev-Buck isn’t on my to-do list.”

“Buck isn’t the only one who can get hurt here.”

Tommy was quiet this time, he could hear the emotion in Eddie’s voice, deep and worried, almost pleading him. With a sigh, Tommy pushed himself to sit up on the bed, ignoring the way it made his head spin.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy replied, firmly.  

Eddie scoffed, and Tommy could hear him lick his lips, as if ready to start laying it on thicker. Tommy cut it off.

“I will be fine.” I always am, Tommy thought. “So, just, I’ll open my notes app and I’ll stop typing my feelings into iMessage, okay?”

“I…yes.” Eddie sighed. “Fine, you’re fine, we’re fine. Just, don’t text him, okay?”

“I already-.”

“Notes app, I got it, Mr. Fine. I meant, if you’re going to talk to him, know that you’re opening a door there, and sure it’s your job here to fix…whatever happened.” Eddie’s voice was stern, like he was talking to a petulant child that had come out with every excuse in the book. “I’m saying, don’t text him, call him. And don’t leave it too late, Chimney’s trying to encourage pond diving.”

Eddie hung up with that, no good bye, no well wishes. Succinct and gone.

Tommy ran his tongue over his teeth, and stared down at his dark phone screen. Then, to resist temptation, he went to Evan’s contact. He hovered his name over the block button, imagined how much easier it would be if he couldn’t even send the messages he wanted to. Then, he imagined a scenario in the future where Evan needed him and called and Tommy had him blocked and panic surged in his chest, tightening, his eyes watering.

No, he couldn’t.

Instead, Tommy changed the name.

DO NOT USE.

His phone started buzzing with his alarm, telling him to ‘get up for work.’ Tommy threw his phone onto the bed and put it out of his mind.

[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.

[katyobsesses]

"Do You Love Him?"

8x06 alternate ending (2229 words)

Do you love him? …Do you care for him? …Could you see a future there? Josh’s words echoed in Buck’s mind as he drove, on autopilot, to Eddie’s.  Buck… hadn’t been lying when he’d told Josh yes. He really had seen a future with Tommy. Their relationship had been easy. Simple. Especially compared to his other relationships. He also hadn’t been lying to Tommy when he’d said it had been the most transformative of his relationships. He’d learnt so much about himself with Tommy like… Like… Like the fact that he was Bi, of course. Which was definitely a transformative thing in his life. Even if he didn’t feel all that different post-realization. It wasn’t that it wasn’t an important realization, because it definitely was, but he had sort of… always known, he guessed, just hadn’t always placed that label on himself. He’d always looked at other guys, hadn’t felt ashamed of that, he’d just… never acted on the feelings doing so had caused. Or, rather, hadn’t exactly internalized that they were the same feelings he had for girls. But kissing Tommy had unlocked that part of him, and he was so completely grateful for that.  Honestly looking back he was a little surprised it had never been unlocked back when he was Buck 1.0, the himbo . He’d had plenty of chances for it to have been, but… huh… he’d pushed those feelings down, turned down offers of threesomes with other guys, laughed during spin the bottle games when his spin hadn’t landed on one of the girls. Maybe Buck could see where Josh was coming from with that whole pre and post-Glee world thing. Because, yeah, hadn’t Buck sort of done the same as Tommy? Pushed down his thoughts and feelings for guys and swept them under the rug. But Tommy hadn’t had the feelings for girls he could push the feelings for guys behind like Buck did… But that didn’t matter. Not now. He may no longer be angry at Tommy for leading Abby along but… He was certainly angry at Tommy for leading him on.

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[wikiangela]

It didn't take much time, forever's more than crossed my mind

bucktommy rating: G words: 6.3k 7x06 tommy's pov coda

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___

He sounds and looks so surprised, so astonished, as if someone simply showing up for him was uncommon. Tommy really wants to show him that he’s in, and if they’re really doing this, and it seems like they are, he’ll always put Evan first. He doesn’t half-ass anything, if he’s in, he’s in, one thousand percent. It’s scary that he’s so sure of this so early on, and he really needs to tread carefully. He doesn’t want to rush it, rush Evan. “I’d understand if you just went home, really, I get it. You must be exhausted. It just- it means a lot that you made it anyway.” he shrugs, averting his gaze. Tommy grabs his chin and makes him look him in the eyes again. “Baby,” he starts, the pet name just slipping up, but judging by the sharp inhale, widened eyes, a growing smile, and cheeks getting even redder than they already were, Evan likes it. “There was no way I’d bail on you, ever. Couldn’t leave you dateless at your sister’s wedding. And couldn’t miss my friend’s wedding, of course. Even if I’m really, really late.” he smiles apologetically. “Well, not like you didn’t have a good reason. And you’re here.” Evan shrugs, an adorable smile on his face. Tommy kisses it off, just because he can.

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[plasticbagdepot]

soothe the soul

1.3k | 8x06 coda

Eddie slides open the peephole and looks through, and, like he just knew, on the other side of the door is Buck. He wastes no time closing the peephole and unlocking the door. Buck just looks at him blankly when Eddie opens the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even give Eddie’s whole get-up the little cock of his eyebrow, just pulls a bottle out of the six pack in his hand and hands it to Eddie as he pushes right past. “Don’t ask me how I am,”

buck goes to eddie; they talk

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