#it’s what 911 is all about

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

I would love a classic scene of Eddie questioning if he’s straight or not, and Buck swooping in with a, “I wasn’t sure until Tommy kissed me, so maybe you just need a guy to kiss you.”

Of course, Eddie would look right at Buck and ask, “Do you know anyone offering?”

And Buck, thumb hooked in his belt, chest out, would walk up to Eddie and say, “I think I do.”

Only for Chimney to interrupt the moment and yell, “Alright! Pucker up, buttercup. They don’t call me Mr. April for nothing!”

[buddie-buddie]

Buck drums his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of his Jeep, his left knee bouncing as he waits out the red light in front of him. His shift ended half an hour ago, but the tension in his shoulders hasn’t budged. He thought the drive across town to Tommy’s would help— windows down, music blaring— but it’s done nothing to quiet the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin.

The light turns green, and Buck presses the gas pedal a little too hard, the Jeep lurching forward. Driving through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Tommy’s neighborhood usually settles him, quiets his mind in the way that only the promise of strong arms and that warm, familiar smile can. But tonight, even the hum of crickets and the soft glow of porch lights can’t soothe the unease twisting in his gut.

He pulls up in front of Tommy’s house and sits for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel. He stares at the front door, watching as a couple of moths flutter around the porch light Tommy always leaves on for him. It’s something so small, yet it hits him right in the chest every time. It makes Buck’s skin flood with warmth, makes those three little words rise in his chest until he can practically taste them on the back of his tongue.

In every other relationship, those words felt like a lifeline— something he had to cling to, something that had to be said and something that had to be heard, just to make sure he wasn’t standing on shaky ground. He found himself constantly waiting for that reassurance, always needing to feel wanted. Even when the words came, they didn’t bring the safe, steady feeling he was so desperate for. Instead, they left him restless, chasing a sense of belonging that slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.

It’s different with Tommy.

He doesn’t feel rushed, doesn’t feel pressured. He doesn’t feel like there’s a countdown ticking in the background, waiting for the moment those words will finally fall from his lips or Tommy’s. He’s content to let it be what it is, for as long as it takes.

Because with Tommy, it doesn’t have to be said. He can feel it.

He hears it in the quiet moments that hang between them on slow mornings, when they’re curled up together in bed, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten. He feels it when they’re in the car together, when Tommy’s left hand rests on the steering wheel and his right hand settles on Buck’s thigh like it belongs there.

It’s in the small, thoughtful things— like the porch light, glowing softly and guiding him home. It’s in the way Buck’s favorite coffee quietly appeared in Tommy’s cabinets, how his fancy, hard-to-find body wash showed up on the ledge in Tommy’s shower one day.

It’s in the way Tommy leans in close, steadying him when his mind runs too fast, grounding him without a word. How he always remembers the little things— like Buck’s complicated coffee order from the cafe down the street from the loft, or how he always wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night. 

It’s in the glass of water that’s always on the nightstand next to Buck’s side of the bed. It’s in the feel of Tommy’s hand on the small of Buck’s back when they’re out, a touch that says I’m here without needing to say anything at all. How, when Buck has had a hard day, Tommy makes space— quiet, gentle space— for him to just be, without asking for anything in return.

It’s in those little moments, tucked away between heartbeats and breaths, where words aren’t needed. 

Tommy leaves the porch light on. And even if they haven’t said as much yet, it feels like love, all the same. 

Buck leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling slowly through his nose. The knot of unease in his chest hasn’t disappeared, not entirely, but it’s loosened just enough for him to get a deep breath and turn the engine off. 

He finally gets out of the car, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. He walks up the path to the front door, the sound of his boots quiet against the brick. The porch light casts a warm glow over everything, and Buck finds himself smiling, just a little.

Before he can dig out the key Tommy gave him a few weeks ago, the door swings open, and there’s Tommy— hair mussed, barefoot, wearing one of his old threadbare t-shirts that’s too soft for its own good. Buck’s heart unclenches just a little. 

“Did they let you out early for good behavior?” Tommy says by way of greeting, his mouth curling into that little lopsided smirk Buck loves so much. He steps to the side, his back against the open door to let Buck through.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Buck mutters, pausing as he steps inside to meet Tommy’s lips in a soft kiss. While Gerrard didn’t technically let him out early, it was the first time in the last few weeks that he didn’t approach Buck in the last twenty minutes of the shift to saddle him with a ridiculously tedious task–– the kind that takes at least an hour–– and tell him he wasn’t to leave until it was finished. Which meant that Buck actually left the station on time for the first time in the better part of a month. 

“Hi, baby,” Tommy murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck exhales, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit as he leans into Tommy, chasing the kiss for a moment longer. His hands come to rest lightly on Tommy’s hips, grounding himself in the familiar feel of his steady, solid warmth.

“Hi,” he whispers back, his voice low and tired. He lingers there, forehead pressed gently against Tommy’s, letting the moment stretch between them. 

Tommy pulls back slightly, his thumb brushing along Buck’s jaw in a way that feels like both a comfort and a promise. “Rough shift?”

“Uh,” Buck toes his sneakers off, leaving them beside the door next to Tommy’s boots. “Weird one,” he says, trying and failing to suppress the weariness that pulls at the corners of his voice.

He lets his bag drop to the floor beside his shoes as Tommy turns to close the door with a quiet click. Buck watches as he locks up and flips the porch light off, a quiet confirmation of Buck’s suspicions that Tommy turns it on for him, a 60-watt beacon guiding him here, guiding him home.

The realization settles deep in Buck’s chest, spreading warmth through him like a slow-burning fire. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of being cared for like this— so subtly, so consistently, without any sort of fanfare or obligation. It’s not something he had to ask for or fight to get. It’s just here, waiting for him.

Buck swallows hard, the tight knot of exhaustion and frustration from his shift loosening just a little more. Tommy catches the look on Buck’s face, his expression softening as he steps back into Buck’s space.

“C’mon,” Tommy murmurs, his hand finding the small of Buck’s back, the same familiar touch that grounds him every time. 

Buck leans into the touch, letting Tommy steer him toward the couch. He slumps onto it, dropping his head into his hands with a low sigh. Tommy sits beside him, close enough that their knees bump, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s good at that— letting the silence sit until Buck is ready to speak.  

“Gerrard hugged me,” Buck blurts out, his hands tugging at his hair. 

Tommy goes still for a second, and then— “He hugged you?” There’s disbelief in his tone, and when Buck lifts his head to meet Tommy’s eyes, he sees that crooked smirk forming again, fighting to stay serious.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Buck mutters, voice tight with frustration. “He— He told me he’s gonna take me ‘under his wing.’” He tears his hand from his hair long enough to make air quotes around Gerrard’s words.

Tommy blinks. Then snorts.  

“Under his wing?” Tommy echoes. “That’s where all the love and joy of life go to die.”  

Buck huffs out a laugh. He leans back against the couch cushions, his hands falling to his lap. “You’re not helping.”  

“I’m not trying to help yet,” Tommy replies, smirking again. He nudges Buck’s knee with his own. “I’m trying to make you laugh so you don’t spiral. Looks like I’m halfway there.”  

Buck shakes his head, but the small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth anyway.  

“Okay, seriously,” Tommy continues, his voice softening. “What happened?”  

Buck sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I– I don’t know. He had us line up at the start of shift. Went down the line and was his… usual self to everyone else. And then he got to me and– and…” Buck’s voice trails off, discomfort curling in his gut as he relives the moment. “He– He told me I saved his life and then he hugged me.” He drags his hands down his face. “And now, suddenly, I’m his pet project.”  

Tommy’s brow furrows. “He really hugged you?”

Buck makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Yeah. A hug. Not, like, a friendly slap on the back, but a full-body, completely awkward, get-in-here-son hug. You should’ve seen everyone else’s faces. I thought Eddie was going to keel over.”  

Tommy lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “That’s... something.” He leans back, resting an arm along the top of the couch behind Buck. His fingers slip into Buck’s hair, running through his curls as the silence hangs between them. Buck relaxes into the touch, tipping his head toward Tommy, leaning into the warmth and steadiness of his hand.

“Under his wing,” Buck mutters again, almost to himself. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re officially his new favorite. Congratulations, babe. You’ve leveled up.”

“Oh, yeah. Lucky me,” Buck deadpans, dragging his hands down his face. “Just what I’ve always wanted—mentorship from a guy who makes my skin crawl.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers still threading gently through Buck’s curls. The silence between them stretches, comfortable but charged, like Tommy is waiting, watching, reading Buck the way he always does. The humor fades from his face, replaced by something softer, more careful. “Okay,” Tommy murmurs after a moment, his fingers brushing lightly along the nape of Buck’s neck. “What’s really going on?”

Buck freezes for a second, caught between wanting to say it and wanting to shove it down. Tommy always has this way of coaxing things out of him without even trying. He approaches him with equal parts gentleness and insistence, like peeling back layers until Buck has no choice but to lay it all bare.

“It’s nothing,” Buck tries, voice thin.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is low, steady, patient. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the back of Buck’s neck. “Talk to me.”

Buck blows out a breath, frustrated more with himself than anything. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair as if it might shake the thoughts loose.

“I don’t even know that I meant to save him,” Buck admits, his voice tight. “I can’t... I can’t tell if I pushed him because I heard the blade, or if I just— snapped.”

Tommy stays quiet for a beat, letting the weight of Buck’s words settle between them. His hand doesn’t leave the back of Buck’s neck, fingers still working in soothing circles. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Both?” Buck glances at him, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugs, his expression steady but kind, his gaze warm with quiet understanding. “You’re not exactly known for your patience, Evan. But that doesn’t mean your instincts aren’t solid. Maybe you snapped, and maybe you also saved his miserable life at the same time. Those things don’t cancel each other out.”  

Buck lets the words sink in, his jaw tightening as he rolls them over in his mind. He exhales slowly, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit. “I– I don’t know. I keep thinking, what if– what if it wasn’t instinct? What if it was just... me losing control?”

Tommy’s thumb strokes a slow path along the back of Buck’s neck, and he leans in even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re human,” Tommy says, his voice gentle. “You get angry. You hit your limit. But you wouldn’t have let him die, even if you wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Buck huffs out a wet laugh, shaky but real. “I definitely wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Tommy grins, brushing a kiss against Buck’s temple. “Rightfully so.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into the warmth of Tommy’s presence, the steadiness of his voice, the way his hand stays firm and reassuring on the back of his neck.

“I just don’t want him anywhere near me,” Buck admits, well aware of how petulant and childish he sounds— and yet, he doesn’t care. Something about Tommy makes it easy for Buck to drop the mask he wears everywhere else, to let the frustration and helplessness spill out without fear of judgment. With Tommy, he doesn’t have to be composed or tough all the time; he can just be— messy, tired, and human. Tommy’s presence is like a safety net, one that will catch him no matter how ridiculous he sounds or how tangled his emotions get.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this,” Buck mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You will,” Tommy says without hesitation. “Keep your head down, lean on all of us who’ve got your back, and wait him out. He's going to burn out or screw up sooner or later. You’ve just gotta outlast him.”  

Buck huffs a tired, bitter laugh. “I’m not good at keeping my head down.”

“I know,” Tommy murmurs, his lips brushing the top of Buck’s hair in a soft, steadying touch. “But you’re good at the important stuff— like saving people. Even assholes who don’t deserve it.”

Buck closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy, the familiar weight of his hand still resting on the back of Buck’s neck. The knot in his chest loosens just a little more, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit under the warmth of Tommy’s words. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m getting tired of being good at that.”

Tommy’s arms tighten around him, pulling Buck closer. “That’s okay, too,” Tommy says simply. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, low and steady and full of quiet, unwavering conviction. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

Buck closes his eyes, sinking deeper into Tommy’s embrace. This time, when those three little words rest on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t swallow them down. Even though he knows they won’t ever be enough, he can’t think of anywhere better to start. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers, the words slipping out like an exhale, simple and unforced.

For a moment, Tommy stays perfectly still, as if letting the words settle between them. Then, slowly, a smile curves against Buck’s temple. 

Tommy presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s birthmark, soft and reverent. “I love you, too.” 

And just like that, everything feels lighter. Not perfect. Not fixed. But it’s enough.

It’s quiet between them, the kind of silence Buck used to hate. The kind he used to scramble to fill with words, desperate to bridge the gaps. But here, in Tommy’s arms, the silence feels different. It feels easy. It feels safe. 

It feels like home.

also on ao3

[theotherbuckley]

911onabc: we are BUZZING with excitement 🐝🐝🐝🐝 it’s going to BEE an amazing season 🐝🐝🐝🐝 you won’t BEELIEVE what’s happening 🐝🐝🐝 BEE there or BEE square 🐝🐝🐝 Beauty is in the eye of the BEE-holder 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Me: can I—

911onabc: we’ve BEEN waiting to show you 🐝🐝🐝we’ve BEEN BUZZY putting s8 together 🐝🐝🐝🐝 coming this SeptemBEE 🐝🐝🐝 it’s gonna be all the BUZZ 🐝🐝🐝 we are never BEEting the allegations 🐝🐝🐝 it’s gonna STING 🐝🐝🐝 the cast is the BEEs knees 🐝🐝🐝

Me: trailer—

911onabc: there’s a BEE-nado coming 🐝🐝🐝 it’s BEEN fun 🐝🐝🐝 this season will FLY 🐝🐝🐝🐝 season eight? More like season BEE 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 it’s BEEXICTING 🐝🐝🐝🐝 you BEEtter BEE there 🐝🐝🐝🔪🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 BEE 🐝🐝🐝🐝 WE BEENT BEE TO BEE YOU WHAT BEE ARE BEEING 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 BEE HAPPY WITH WHAT WE GIVE YOU 🐝🐝🐝🐝

Me: so that plane crash—

911onabc: DONT BEE LATE 🐝🐝🐝 WE GOT THE WHOLE LG🐝TQ 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 IS YOUR BLOOD TYPE BEE POSITIVE? 🐝🐝🐝 IT JS NOW 🐝🐝🐝 THE MOUSTACHE IS ABOUT TO GET A BUZZ-CUT 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 HONEY 🍯 DONT BE A BA-BEE 🐝🐝🐝🐝 ITS GONNA BE A BEE-UTIFUL BUZZY DAY 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Me: anything else—

911onabc: BUZZ OFF 🐝🐝🐝🐝 BEEHAVE 🐝🐝🐝🐝 BUZZ YOURSELF 🐝🐝🐝 IM BEE-THREATENING YOU 🐝🐝🐝🐝 BEE HAPPY 🐝🐝🐝 S-BEE-SON EIGHT BEE-COMING BEE-SOON 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 BEE THERE YOU BEE-IDIOT 🐝🐝🐝

[confessionseddie]

Listen to the medic. He knows what he's talking about.

MEDIC EDDIE in season 8 episodes 1–5

[emiliagrant]

Buck and Tommy ♡ flirty, kinky and in love

[tidesreach]

on another note, absolutely wild to me that some people will look at the buckley-diaz dynamic and say with their whole chest that buck deserves better and that he’s being taken advantage of. like, that is his fucking family. his family that he chose and who he actively keeps choosing. and equally significant, his family that chose him right back in a very big way. they are genuinely mutually insane about each other and have been for several years. like, they have been choosing each other over and over for YEARS. be for fucking real

[glorious-spoon]

my buddie hot take is that buck isn't jealous or possessive so much as he is cripplingly insecure about his place in the lives of the people he loves. which is i guess less sexy but also (imo) way more interesting

[wellcollapse]

the way i would pay for oliver to write meta about buck's character

[haydenthewitch]

HELLO???? BUCK FUCKIGN CLAWING AT THE MUDDY GROUND TO GET TO EDDIE???? AND THEY AREN'T FUCKING CANNON??? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING JOKING RIGHT NOW. THAT MAN IS IN LOVE WITH EDDIE SO MUCH ARE U KIDDING?? HE IS ON HIS KNEES, PAWING AT THE GROUD SCREAMING "EDDIE!! EDDIE!!" AND THEY AREN'T FUCKING CANNON???? IT'S SEASON THREE??? WE DONT EVEN GET BI BUCK UNTILL SEASON SEVEN WHAT THE FUCK???

[stagefoureddiediaz]

The Helena diaz of it all has me fascinated. I’ve said for a long while that Eddie’s real issues are his mommy issues and this episode just cemented for me that we’re gonna explore that and deal with it.

Because it’s Helena who forced Eddie to grow up to fast - because her husband wasn’t around much - so she pushed Eddie into de facto parent and husband role ls - selfishly filling her needs and ignoring the damage it was doing to her son (it is a form of abuse in my book).

Eddie then had the audacity to fall in love with and marry Shannon and get her pregnant. It’s why Helena was always so off with Shannon - she was punishing her. She is also punishing Eddie for all of this and his refusal to return to El Paso only cemented further her bitterness and resentment.

Now she does have Ramon back she doesn’t need Eddie any longer to fill that role so she is still punishing him and part of that is tied into her glee over now getting to parent Christopher - something she has always been intent on doing the doppelgänger just gave her the opportunity- as well as allowing her to further punish her son and his love of Shannon.

Her barbed comments about building a pool were all about showing what she can provide Christopher - how she is parenting him better than Eddie - it’s part of her mind games - making Eddie feel like more of a failure as a parent to his son.

The reality of course is that the reverse is true - Helena’s parenting is all superficial, flash and showy - it isn’t the hard day to day parenting when things get tough and you have to be the bad guy. While Eddie has made mistakes, there is nothing superficial, flash, or showy about his parenting. It’s why bucks comments about Eddie being a great dad are so important.

Eddie feel like a failure right now and that he is entirely to blame for everything. But in reality, while he does bear a bit of the responsibility, the truth of the matter is that he needs to learn and deal with the fact that all of it actually stems from Helena and her abuse of her young son - Shannon never stood a chance just like Eddie never has.

[swiftiefirefighters]

"You need to relax." Eddie rolls his eyes. "You have nothing to worry about, Buck."

"What if I pick the wrong on? What if he hates it?" Buck turns to Eddie. "What if I'm making a huge mistake and he - " Eddie puts his hand on Buck's shoulder and forces Buck to look into his eyes like he's done so many times before. "Don't be an idiot. I mean, I get that that's why we love you - Tommy included - but don't be an idiot. You're forgetting, I'm his friend too."

Buck turns back to the glass counter full of rings. "Yeah, yeah. You're right. And we've talked about this. We both want this. It's just a matter of when, right?" "Right. Now, which one?" Buck bites his lip. He knows this isn't the most important decision he'll ever have to make, but right now it feels like it is. "I don't know. That's why I brought you." "I did not come here to pick out your boyfriend's engagement ring. I came here to make sure you didn't chicken out and leave the store without buying one." Eddie bumps his shoulder against Buck's. "Come on, Buck. He's going to say yes. This is just a formality."

"But it matters, you know. I want it to be perfect."

"I know you do. You're Buck."

Buck sucks in a breath and looks down at the case. He spots the perfect ring tucked in the corner - not plain but nothing too fancy or elaborate that would feel out of place on Tommy. It's perfect. He points it out and says "that one."

Eddie takes it upon himself to wave one of the sales people over so that Buck can get it packed up and ready to go and by the time they leave the shop there's a small velvet box tucked inside Buck's coat pocket. "You know, this doesn't guarantee that I'll be your best man. Tommy might win."

"Fuck you, Diaz. I locked that down nearly a decade ago." Buck snorts. "You're not getting out of throwing me a fucking killer bachelor party."

"You're so sure of yourself." "Obviously."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Maybe he'll say no." "Stop!"

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. "Get in the truck." Once they're both settled, seatbelts on, and Eddie starts up the engine he turns to Buck and looks at him seriously. "And Buck, don't chicken out. You're going to ask that man to marry you, and he's going to say yes, and you're going to get the happy ending you've always wanted."

"Yeah." Buck nods. "Yeah, you're right. I know you're right."

"I know I'm right."

As they drive off, Buck just stares out the window and can't help but smile. He feels light.

[watchyourbuck]

yes buddie marriage yes buddie endgame but you know which fucking fanon hd I will never move on from? buddie fucking in 2x01 right after their pissing match and being unable to keep their hands off each other bc they want each other so badly and it’s messy and nasty and disgusting and so fast GOD

[epiphainie]

i've just finished my s7 rewatch and it's kinda so funny to me how much discourse people created over every bucktommy interaction when their whole arc boils down to tommy being patient and vulnerable with buck and showing up for him. like when you are not wearing shipper goggles under the name of "analysis" and don't try to reverse-engineer every word and look and shot with utmost bad faith, that's what it is. a simple and sweet story of a new exciting relationship with a guy who's understanding and willing to show up. literally the two things buck needs from a relationship but never had with his previous love interests. they are kinda sickeningly sweet and well-communicating actually lol

[perfectthewayyouare]

fam i'm having shrimp emotions about dean winchester in the year of our lord 2024. it doesn't get better

[rosetterer]

There is something about the thought of Buck taking Tommy's last name that just drives me insane

[abowlofpetuniasandawhale]

I truly do not understand how people are taking any amount of negativity from that Lou interview when he did nothing but speak highly of the show and his experience on it and express his interest in continuing the plot???? Y’all good????