#my first 911 fic

[aro-of-artemis]

but it feels like a fortress when the weather gets bad

Turning his face to the side, his eyes landed on the collection of house keys that sat in a bowl on his counter. A key for his apartment, one for Maddie’s, the key to his Jeep and one for Eddie’s front door. Eddie had given it to him one day as though it were the simplest decision in the world. “Y’know. In case you ever need to watch Chris or something. Or in case of emergency.” OR Buck has a nightmare about Eddie dying, but he also has a key to Eddie's house.

5k

Read on AO3

[ranchbuck]

it’s always colder on your own

buck/eddie | 7.9k | Teen

“So you’ve been thinking about bisexuality,” Doctor Copeland says, “But not in relation to yourself?”

Buck blinks, “Uh.”

[kenneth-black]

I think Eddie feels the most comfortable and at home with his abuela because growing up, she was probably the only person in his family who allowed him to be a child while everyone else expected him to be the man of the house. She let him be her little Eddito… 🥺🙃

[gif made by the talented @housewifebuck 🤍]

[setmeatopthepyre]

Third Act [ now also on Ao3]

They've just evacuated the last of the factory workers when Incident Command calls for total evacuation. Structural integrity can no longer be guaranteed, everybody out. Eddie, who has their patient's other arm draped over his shoulders as they help the man limp to the nearest ambulance, grins at Buck. "Now that's what I call perfect timing."

"Yeah," Buck agrees, maybe a beat too slow, distracted by the number on the turnouts that just darted past them. The name under the 217 started with the wrong letter, the person's shoulders too narrow, height not quite right. Not that he's looking. Not that he's been looking. Not that it would matter if he was. With the enormity of the factory and the spread of the fire they have on their hands, the chances of running into a particular individual are small. Besides, if he's here, he's more than likely at the other end of the staging area, with the helicopters that are being refueled and awaiting instruction. Not that Buck's been looking. Or paying attention to any of that. At all.

They've just handed over their patient to the paramedics when their radios crackle to life once more, this time to confirm that all first responders who had entered the building are safe and accounted for.

"Thank God."

Buck turns to find Bobby has come up behind them, has clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder, a relieved smile lighting up his face under his helmet. And. Yeah. Buck smiles with him, feels terrible for a moment for being so preoccupied when he should just be damn grateful for how their day - night, now - has panned out. Despite the enormous structure, despite how fast the fire spread, despite the upgrade from a three to a four alarm fire when it became incredibly clear the building was not up to code, despite the flammable materials housed in the far end of the structure, (despite the whir of helicopter blades overhead reminding Buck of him, despite the way he had to force himself not to stop and listen when a headcount for the 217 went out over the radio) they got everyone out alive. Some of the factory workers were in critical condition, others would be touch-and-go for a while, but they got them out alive and that was all any of them could ask for.

Perhaps it was too big an ask.

There had been a few moments in Buck's life in which he'd wondered if the universe had it out for him, was just waiting for him to be happy, let down his guard a little, so that it could pull the rug out from under him and send him sprawling. Choking on breadsticks on Valentine's Day. Choking on blood at his own welcome back party. Choking on his own nickname in his own loft as. As he walked out the door.

It feels like he's choking again. Buck watches the faces around him fall when dispatch tells them they were wrong, that there's still two people inside, on the top floor. When the IC responds that there's nothing to be done, the lower floors are ready to cave in, it's too unsafe. When a familiar voice crackles over the radio, saying there's a chance, if they land a helicopter on the roof, get the last two people out from there. That he'll do it.

"Absolutely not, firefighter pilot Kinard. That roof is ready to go any minute now, and you want to land a bird on it? That's a suicide mission. Stand down, that's an order."

There's a static crackle, as if someone, as if he, is weighing his options before he speaks. Buck doesn't breathe. Doesn't think he could if he wanted to.

"If there's any chance they can be saved, I have to try."

And Bobby meets his eyes, still tries, "Buck-", but they both know there's no version of this moment in which Buck doesn't grimace apologetically, doesn't turn, doesn't run faster than he's ever ran before.

He's gone, long strides, lungs burning, everyone and everything he passes a blur. He bumps into someone, yells "Sorry!", he thinks, isn't actually sure that's what he does, eyes set on the rotor blades looming dark against the orange cast of the fire in the distance. It's hard to tell if they're moving, what with how the light shifts in the dark, what with how his vision has become narrowed to that single point, and the dull roar in his ears could be his own blood pounding, could be the commotion that comes with a scene like this, could the be panic rising like bile in his throat.

For one insane moment, he thinks he can hear the sweeping crescendo of an orchestra, thinks, hysterically, like sprinting through an airport in the third act of a romcom. Thinks, I should tell Tommy. Realizes what he's hearing is that dull roar shifting into the high whine of rotor blades gaining momentum and thinks, Oh, god, Tommy. And then, in a blink, he's fighting the dust in his eyes and being buffeted by wind and his hands find purchase on the titanium hull and he's hauling himself inside.

With the wind gone, it's like he's suspended in stillness for a moment. Stillness, not silence, because helicopters are loud and the sound is everywhere, like a physical sensation. Or maybe that's just how it feels to be in close proximity with Tommy again. Tommy, who is staring straight ahead, punching buttons, flipping a switch, and Buck isn't sure Tommy's even aware of his presence until Tommy's reaching back, headset in hand, not looking at him at all, gaze still firmly on the dashboard.

Even when Buck has the headset on, the roar of the engine finally dropping away, Tommy doesn't acknowledge him immediately. The set of his shoulders is stiff, determined, defensive. He lets out a sigh. "What are you doing here, Buck?"

Buck carefully ignores the name, ignores the way Tommy still can't look at him. Squares his shoulders, even if Tommy can't see it. "I'm going with you."

There is a moment in which Tommy doesn't respond, simply finishes the last of his pre-flight checks. When he speaks, his voice is carefully deadpan. "You know we're probably going to die out there."

Buck can't help it, shoots back before he can think about it. "Figured this way I can prove I want you to be my last."

It works. Finally, Tommy turns. Meets his eyes. Breathes out. "Evan."

And Buck knows it's a ridiculous moment to smile, but it's like a weight falls away from him and he can feel his chest expand in a way it hasn't been able to since "See you around, Buck."

"Like you said," he amends. "If there's a chance at all, I have to try."

Buck doesn't think he's imagining the spark of hope in Tommy's eyes, the twitch of a smile, before Tommy turns back to his controls and the ground falls away beneath them.

[apartmentsmoke]

"Wait, wait, stop," Buck says, and the very pleasant feeling of Tommy's mouth on his neck vanishes.

"You okay?" Tommy's got his Look of Concern plastered on his face. Good thing, because if Buck is right, this is concerning.

"Yeah, it's just - did you hear that?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows. "I heard you moaning."

"Tommy, that's the thing - it wasn't me." The Look of Concern has morphed into the Look of Are-You-Sure-You're-Not-Having-Me-On? It's mostly used whenever Buck regales Tommy with tales of one of the 118's emergencies ("Nothing like that ever happened while I was there, Evan"), but he's seen it in other contexts (explaining the entire Kim situation).

"At this point, I think I know what you sound like in bed." Tommy's mouth is still nicely red. And maybe he's right, it was nothing, and it would be easy to fall back into him. Buck waits a beat, ears perked, but there's nothing - so he does press his lips into Tommy's, Tommy's body relaxing against him.

Tommy rubs his side like Buck's an anxious horse. The hair on Buck's arms slowly flattens, goosebumps leaving his skin. He loses himself in the slide of their kisses, until -

He breaks free of Tommy and looks around wildly, Tommy woah'ing.

"Sweetheart," Tommy says, reaching out again. "Seriously, you okay? Because you're giving Ghost Whisperer."

Buck snaps his fingers at Tommy. "Exactly. My apartment is haunted."

"Evan." The word is a drier desert than Antarctica.

"There was a moan again! And it wasn't me. And when Chimney and Mara and Jee were over here helping set up, they left the balcony door open. It's October. And now there is something living here."

"Last time I checked, Casper wasn't considered alive," Tommy says, and the look on his face tells Buck everything: he really is a skeptic. Falling asleep during Buck's thoughts on Area 51 wasn't just because he found Buck's voice soothing.

When Buck reaches for his phone on the bedside table, a chill runs down his arm and into his spine. "Okay." He's got Google, a helpful army of friends, and the ability to buy anything he needs. That ghost is history. "So first, we need to get -"

He's stopped by Tommy's hand on his wrist. "Baby, do we really need to figure out your ghost thing right now?"

"Do you want to fuck in front of a ghost, Thomas?"

"Is he a hot ghost?" Tommy waggles his eyebrows, then sighs. "Look, I get that this is important to you, but I was away for three weeks for that training camp and I missed you. Can we send The Flying Dutchman back to sea in a couple days? My place has a big bed and a distinct lack of the supernatural."

As they're closing the door to Buck's loft, another faint moan emanates from the air.

"It's the pipes," Tommy says, linking his arm into Buck's to guide them to his car.

(They find out three days later Tommy is technically correct when maintenance pulls a dead raccoon out of the walls of Buck's loft.

"Huh," Tommy says, frowning at his phone. "They really do make that noise."

"And they stink." Buck wrinkles his nose. "Your bed still open?"

By the time the landlord's finished the repairs, Buck's stuff, cleared out for the construction, is scattered over Tommy's house.

"It'd be a pain to pack it all up again," Tommy says. "Keep it here."

"You just want easy access to my hoodies," Buck accuses, feeling Tommy's laughter from underneath the fabric of the stolen blue hoodie he's wearing.

Two hours later, hoodie abandoned to the floor, Buck officially moves in.)

[thanks to @stardustbuck (Buck thinks he's haunted) and @theweewooshow (balcony raccoon) for the inspo 🫶]

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Chasing Fires

This fic is based on this idea originally thought up by @kinardsboy in this post and expanded on in this post I made a few days back. I hope you enjoy this different first meeting AU between a younger Tommy and a younger Evan! 🥰

Chasing Fires

| Pairing: BuckTommy | Rated: M | WC: 150.2K | Chapters: 25/25 |

Summary: 24-year-old Tommy Kinard meets 19-year-old Evan Buckley as Evan tries to steal food at a grocery store. Tommy decides to let Evan crash at his place until Evan figures out what his next steps are, giving Evan the same help someone had given Tommy when he had been kicked out of his house years ago.

Excerpt:

Usually, when Tommy saw someone stealing food, his rule of thumb was no, you didn’t. Tommy had been that kid before. He wasn’t going to make someone’s life infinitely worse due to their own desperation. And this wasn’t Tommy exactly calling the kid out. But. He really was not going to fit that giant bag of chips into his sweatshirt in a way that was going to conceal it. And as Tommy watched the guy struggling to shove the party size bag of Lays Classic of all things into one of his sweatshirt pockets, Tommy couldn’t help but say, “Ramen.” "Ramen?" ... “Easier to hide,” offered Tommy as he remembered when he was about as desperate as this guy must be now, “Full meal too.”

READ THE REST ON AO3!

[wikiangela]

I'll be spending all Christmases with you

written for @bucktommywinterfest

prompt: first [insert winter holiday/tradition] together

rated: G

word count: 3.1k

[also on Ao3]

Buck shows up at Tommy’s house right after his shift ends, comes in without knocking – Tommy doesn’t seem to mind, always just smiling fondly in response – kicks off his shoes and drops his duffel bag next to them, and goes straight to the kitchen, two full grocery bags in hands. “You’re off on Christmas, right?” Buck asks in lieu of a greeting as he walks into the kitchen, where he knows Tommy is, based on the amazing smells and the sounds of cooking and music playing quietly.  “Hey, honey, how was your day?” Tommy answers, amused, from where he’s stirring in a pot on the stove. He eyes the bags Buck brought and put on the counter, but doesn’t say anything yet. “Mine was fine, a little boring, I missed you.”  “Yeah, yeah, okay, hi, I missed you, too.” Buck rolls his eyes as he walks over to Tommy to kiss him sweetly. “So, you’re not working on Christmas?” “No, for once I’m not.” Tommy turns towards Buck, holding up a spoon with sauce on it to his lips. “Try it?” “Mmmm.” Buck exclaims when he takes the spoon into his lips. “So good.” Tommy smiles in response, turns to put the spoon away and lower the heat. “I was thinking of taking overtime, though.” “What? When?” “On Christmas.” Tommy shrugs, but he’s not looking at Buck, apparently deciding it’s time to start cleaning the mess he made while cooking. “Why?” Buck frowns. “Well, I don’t have plans. When I’m off on Christmas, I usually take overtime so someone who actually has a family can take a day off.” His tone is carefully neutral, and if Buck didn’t know him any better, he might've missed the note of sadness. He tries to turn away to the sink, which is full of dishes he’s used. But before he can fully turn, Buck grabs his waist and brings him closer to himself, Tommy’s back against Buck’s chest. “Baby, you do have plans.” Buck whispers in his ear, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It breaks his heart to think that this amazing man has been spending all his holidays working, because he didn’t have someone to spend it with. That’s about to change. If Buck has it his way, Tommy will always have a family to celebrate any and all holidays with. Buck is his family now, and he needs Tommy to finally believe that. “We’re spending our first Christmas together, I thought that was obvious.” “Oh. I thought- I know I got an invite for Christmas Eve dinner at your firehouse, but I thought the actual holiday-” “You thought wrong.” Buck interrupts, easily turning Tommy to face him. “Maddie invited us for dinner at their place on Christmas.”

“As in, us both?” Tommy asks, skeptical. Whoever hurt him in his life to make him think he’s so undeserving of love and affection and people actually wanting him around and to spend time with him – Buck wants to kick their asses.

“Yes, us both,” he rolls his eyes. “What, you think I’m gonna drag you along uninvited?”

“And you- you want me to go?” Tommy asks, frowning, as if confused. Buck really is about to ask for a list of everyone who ever wronged him. He’s never seen his boyfriend this doubtful and insecure, not this outwardly before. 

“Tommy. Why on earth wouldn’t I want you to go?” He asks incredulously.

“I don’t know. It’s a family thing, right?” Tommy looks down, cheeks pink. 

“Yeah. And you’re a part of this family now. You know that, right?” Buck asks, reaches out to grab Tommy’s chin and make him look him in the eyes. There’s a panicked look in his eyes when he does. “It’s important to me that you know that. The 118, Maddie and Chim and Jee, me. I’m your family, if you let me. And you’re gonna let me, too late to back out now,” he adds teasingly, mostly a joke, and it does get Tommy to chuckle. But he’s more serious than he’s letting on. Tommy has his whole heart by now. Buck wants him forever, wants everything with him, wants to move in together, wants to get married, have kids, get a dog – just everything. He wants to grow old together, wants to- he wants to share Christmas traditions and start new ones, just theirs, and continue them for years and years and years. He thinks it’s too much to say just yet, too scary even for him sometimes, the intensity and enormousness of those feelings almost overwhelming at times. 

“Oh.” Tommy blinks. “I- Okay. I mean, if they won’t mind me joining-”

“Again,” Buck interrupts, “we all want you there. So, are you coming with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He breathes out, as if he still has trouble believing he’s being included. “God, sorry.” Tommy groans, buries his face in Buck’s neck. “I just- I’ve never spent Christmas with a partner before. It feels- big. And I guess I’m panicking a little bit.” His voice is muffled by Buck’s skin, his arms clinging to Buck’s back. 

“That’s okay. I get it, it does feel big. We can panic together,” he runs a soothing hand down Tommy’s back, and feels him chuckle, and then press a soft kiss to the side of Buck’s neck. He’s just glad Tommy’s not running away, that Buck didn’t scare him off with all the family talk. He tends to go all in too soon, and sometimes, usually, it doesn’t work out well. But Tommy’s still here, telling him he’s panicking, communicating, so they can get through any freak outs together. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Tommy pulls away, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just took me off guard. I’d love to spend Christmas with you and the Hans.”

“Great.” Buck grins.

“So, what’s that?” Tommy nods his head in the direction of the grocery bags.

“Oh!” Buck lets Tommy go and goes to start unpacking the bags, pulling out all the ingredients he bought. There are too many kinds of flour, a lot of chocolate chips, sprinkles, sugar – to name a few. “We’re gonna make Christmas cookies.”

“It’s a month until Christmas, sweetheart.” Tommy chuckles.

“I know that. We need to try out different recipes, though. I found a few and I’m not sure which one we’ll like best.” He says, feeling Tommy’s gaze on him as he pulls out everything out of the bag. “I used to always bake cookies with Maddie on Christmas Eve. My parents weren’t really in the holiday spirit, like, ever, and it makes sense now, but, you know.” He shrugs. He told Tommy his family history, his family secret, they shared bits and pieces about their lives by now. Tommy gets it. “Anyway, I figured, since it’s our first Christmas, of many,” he adds, looking back at Tommy expecting panic in his face, and there are traces of it still, but mostly he looks fond, hopeful, “we could share some traditions, and maybe do something new. I wanted a new recipe, though, something that we choose together.”

“Really? We’re gonna bake a crazy amount of cookies just so we can decide on a recipe together?” Tommy asks, and when Buck turns towards him, he’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“I know it’s silly, okay?” Buck rolls his eyes. “But I want it to be perfect, and I want it to be our thing.”

“Okay.” Tommy smiles, that fond smile of his on his face. “You’re adorable.” He adds, and Buck grins, feeling heat in his cheeks. He’ll never get used to compliments from Tommy, they always make him feel so giddy inside. Tommy makes him feel that way. Like he’s floating in the clouds. And at the same time, like he’s the most grounded he’s ever been, like he can finally put down his roots somewhere. He can really finally see himself doing that. He sees forever in Tommy’s eyes, in his crinkling smile. “When do you wanna start?”

“We can make the first batch after dinner.” Buck shrugs. “If you’re not tired."

“I’m not the one who just finished a shift an hour ago.” Tommy chuckles. “If you’re not tired, sure, let’s do it.” Tommy says, then turns to check on dinner, while Buck starts putting all the groceries away exactly in places they should be – well, he’s rearranged some things since they started dating, but Tommy says he got used to it and likes it better this way. One time he said he likes his space being so full of Buck. It was so sweet Buck kissed him about it, and then had to suck him off about it right there in the kitchen. 

“So,” Buck starts after a moment of silence, only quiet music playing, “you got any traditions you wanna do?” He asks, not wanting to do just his own traditions. It’s supposed to be their first holiday together, he wants to incorporate both of their traditions, and merge them, and maybe one day they’ll transform into something else or get replaced by things they come up with together. But that’s years down the line, and they gotta start somewhere.

“Uh, we didn’t actually do much for Christmas.” Tommy says, and when Buck looks at him, he sees a sad smile on his face, as he starts to plate their food. “When I was little, maybe. I remember having a tree, but not much more.” He pauses, thinking. “I mean, one thing I do remember, pretty vividly, is this thing I used to do with my mom, before she died,” he sighs, turns to Buck, but doesn’t look him in the eye, gaze somewhere on the floor. “We used to take those walks around the neighborhood and watch how people decorated their houses. We used to compare and judge them like it’s some kind of competition.” He laughs, a faraway look on his face, like he’s back in time, with his mom, in those happy memories. “It was so much fun, those are some of my favorite Christmas memories,” he admits.

“That sounds nice.” Buck says quietly, abandoning the groceries to walk closer to Tommy, leans against the counter next to him.

“It really was. But then after she died-” his face drops, he swallows hard and audibly, “we stopped doing Christmas at all. My dad- he was never the same without her. He was never particularly great, but after she was gone, it all became worse.” He shakes his head. Buck’s heard some stories already, he has a pretty good idea of what Tommy means. “One year I got some old Christmas lights from the attic and put them in my room. I just wanted some Christmas spirit, you know? Feel closer to my mom again, in a way, she loved Christmas. But I got chewed out for that. So I just- I stopped celebrating as well.” He shrugs, looks up at Buck. “Anyway, sorry, my point is, watching people’s decorations was one of my favorite things to do during the holidays,” he cracks a smile, trying to shrug off all the sadness in his face, not show how it’s still affecting him. Buck can’t help himself, he wraps his arms around Tommy and just holds him. Tommy sighs, slumps against him.

“Okay,” Buck whispers, “so we’ll do that this year, if you want to. We’ll go for a walk and judge people’s houses after dinner,” he says and hears Tommy laugh. 

“Sounds good,” Tommy pulls away, a grateful smile on his face.

“And we need to decorate the house, too. And we need a tree!” Buck exclaims, already doing mental inventory of every piece of decorations he has, and everything they need to buy. “We can put it in the corner next to the TV. Or move the armchair and-” He tries to move away to walk to the living room and start planning, but Tommy grabs his hand and stops him. He vaguely registers that he’s talking about Tommy’s house like it’s theirs, but when he looks at Tommy, he doesn’t see the panic anymore. There’s a fond smile on his face. 

“Let’s eat dinner first, okay? And then we can start planning.”

“Okay.” Buck smiles sheepishly. They each grab a plate and go to sit down at the small table by the wall.

They get to eating, talking about their days, their ankles intertwined under the table. It’s always so easy with Tommy, getting lost in conversation, topics never ending. Tommy always gives him his undivided attention, listening intently with the fondest smile, even when Buck goes on a tangent about something totally silly and unrelated. Also, Buck just loves this part of the day, he doesn’t think he’s had that in a while. This – coming home to a person he loves, talking about their day, having them genuinely interested and truly get it – and hear about their day, their job, everything they’ve done on their day off. Just having someone to come home to. He loves this part.

“So, here’s the plan,” Buck starts about halfway through dinner, getting back on topic, “we’re gonna make cookies a few days before, and then on Christmas we’re gonna have dinner at Maddie’s, watch Jee open presents. We’re gonna be the coolest uncles and spoil her by getting her every single thing she asked for, by the way.” He adds casually, noting Tommy’s eyes widen at the mention of ‘uncles’ plural. One day Buck will make him believe he’s a part of this family now. He’s an uncle now, whether he likes it or not. It’s not even because of Buck – last time he was at Maddie’s, Jee asked him, verbatim, where uncle Tommy is. “I have a list, and I’m gonna need your help.”

“Okay.” Tommy whispers, an awed expression on his face. Like he still can’t quite believe Buck means it. 

“We’re also gonna kiss under every mistletoe branch in Maddie and Chim’s house,” Buck continues, “and trust me, there’s gonna be a lot.” He grins. He always finds it ridiculous and kind of sweet how Chim goes overboard on mistletoe just to have a cute excuse to kiss his wife at any opportunity, as if he couldn’t do that anyway. “And then we’ll go for a walk together and judge people’s houses. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect.” Tommy says, that fond smile back on his face. “I can’t wait.”

“And-” Buck hesitates, but then decides to just go for it, hoping he won’t scare Tommy away. “Maybe next year, or whenever we move in together, we can host.” 

“Next year?” Tommy raises his eyebrows, his voice shaking slightly. God, maybe that was too much, Buck just freaked him out. “Move in?”

“Sorry.” Buck shakes his head. “I know this is a lot and too fast, but- but I’m sure of this, of us, of my feelings for you. And I know I want us to spend the next Christmas together. And the next, and the next, and all the holidays after that.” He says, confident and sure, watching Tommy’s face shift between panic and affection. “But we can talk about it when time comes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, no, I’m not- okay, maybe I am a little bit.” Tommy chuckles, raises his arm to scratch at the nape of his neck, like he does when he’s nervous. “I’m just surprised. And I- I want that so bad, Evan, I’ve never wanted anything more. It’s just- let’s take it one day at a time for now, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Buck smiles. “Whatever you want.” He swallows the three little words that have been threatening to spill for weeks now. He’ll say it soon. It’s not time yet, he’s already scaring Tommy enough with his plans for the future. They have time. Buck’s not going anywhere, he’ll be here and he’ll make it work. Maybe he needs to slow down a little, match Tommy’s pace better, he can do that. But there’s no doubt in his mind that Tommy is his forever. 

It’s a few days before Christmas that they make cookies in Tommy’s kitchen, having settled on a recipe after a few tries. Tommy puts on some Christmas music and sings off-key and sways a little as he kneads the dough. Buck stands beside him, watches him with a soft smile, as he’s cutting out cookies from the first portion of dough. Tommy has flour on his nose and cheek, a happy smile on his face, and that sparkle in his eye that Buck’s not sure he’s seen before. He thinks Tommy’s getting his love for Christmas back. There’s a huge tree in the living room, dressed up in so many decorations and lights, a mountain of presents already under it, most for his niece. The entire front yard is brightly lit by lights around the trees, along the fence, a big, lit up Santa, and some other knicknacks they accumulated in the past few weeks. There’s hot cocoa in mugs on the counter, a Christmas movie waiting for them to finish the cookies, and cosy blankets spread out on the couch. It feels festive and warm, and like home and family. Buck’s never been happier, and he’s never seen Tommy happier, either. 

In a few days they’ll go spend Christmas with Buck’s sister and brother-in-law and niece, and a few days after that he’ll welcome the new year by kissing Tommy, ensuring that he’ll spend the next year kissing him, too – if someone believes in superstitions and sometimes Buck really does. He thinks the holidays this year are the best in his life. And he can’t wait to see how much better it’s gonna get each year he gets to do this with Tommy. 

But for now, they bake cookies, and once they’re in the oven, Buck grabs Tommy's hand and turns up the music, and they dance in the kitchen, among the mess, covered in flour and dough, badly singing along to Christmas music and stepping on each other’s toes, and laughing, and it’s absolutely perfect.

They dance to Christmas songs and make a mess while baking cookies, followed by a Christmas movie marathon with hot cocoa for years to come – when they move in together, when two matching rings show up on their fingers, when a set of tiny footsteps and helper hands joins them a few years later, and then another one. It becomes Buck’s favorite thing about the holidays – his family, warmth, laughter, love. His heart is so full. It can’t get better than this.

[also on Ao3]

[chronicowboy]

i could take you (to have and to hold) | 3.6k

On Sunday, Eddie goes to church for the first time since leaving Texas. Here, he meets a priest with sandy blond hair and blue eyes and a smile that could put God's light to shame. This promptly sends Eddie spiralling into the confession booth, and Eddie splits himself open to bleed out over holy stone floors. He speaks Shannon's name into the darkness, and it doesn't bring her back to life, but it might revive Eddie. Because he says her name, whispers the two dreaded D words—death and divorce—and the world keeps on spinning for the first time since she'd written an apology into her eyes over the table at that rooftop restaurant. The world keeps on spinning before stopping all over again. Because Eddie goes to the cemetery, and he lets Shannon go. He lets her rest. And he shaves his moustache off. And he sits on his couch in his empty house and looks at a picture of Christopher and thinks I'm going to get him back. And then Buck texts him. Broke up with Tommy Beer?

(OR: commitment, faith, buck, things finally start to make sense for eddie) aka the handdelivered to @danielsousa fic <3

[littlespoonevan]

Princess Diaries 2 au!

not me already cheating askdjfhsa so i actually have the first chapter of this fic written but i never got any further than that so i never posted it. but!!! that means you are in luck bc i can offer you 3.5k almost immediately lmao

i had a lot of fun rereading this though so hopefully this might give me some motivation to keep going with it 🤞✨

-

“You want to do what?”

Buck’s parents regard him with identical disdainful looks. It’d almost be intimidating if he wasn’t on the receiving end of looks like that from both of them at least once a day.

“Evan, this doesn’t concern you,” his mother sighs.

“Like hell it doesn’t!” he exclaims, looking wildly between his parents and his sister. “Aren’t you forgetting what happened the last time you tried to stick Maddie in an arranged marriage-“

“Evan,” Maddie cuts in, voice gentle but firm enough for Buck to deflate. The smile she offers him is resigned. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” he protests weakly.

“Maddie understands the responsibilities she has as our daughter,” his father says, the, you don’t, heavily implied.

“Regardless, she’s far too old to be concerning herself with something as trivial as a love match,” his mother scoffs and Maddie’s mouth tightens into a thin line.

His parents love to bring up that Maddie is in her late thirties and still single. As if the whole reason for that isn’t because the last person they set up her up with tried to kill her – a trauma from which she’s obviously still recovering. Buck’s not about to let it happen again, not on his watch.

“Do you understand what a match like this could do for our family?” Margaret continues. Buck’s never understood his parents’ obsession with titles and social climbing. He would’ve figured still being a viscount and viscountess would be enough for anyone when, y’know, no one gives a shit about the monarchy nowadays.

“Besides, lord knows the Diazes would be indebted to us for even agreeing to it,” Philip adds with a derisive snort.

“I’ve heard Prince Edmundo is very pleasant,” Maddie offers, clearly trying to placate Buck and possibly trying to convince herself also. She’s putting on a brave face but Buck knows she’s nervous after Doug. It’s been years but Maddie still jumps at shadows.

Buck rolls his eyes. He may never have met him before but Buck has heard the scandal surrounding Prince Edmundo. He fell in love with a commoner and tried to marry her but his parents refused the match. Then, four years ago, a child was left at the palace gates with a letter addressed to Prince Edmundo. Apparently before they were forced apart Edmundo had gotten her pregnant and she was no longer in a position to take care of the child. Within hours, the whole world knew.

The Diazes had hired an entire new security team after that.

Buck hasn’t heard much since but he does know the potential marriage King Ramon and Queen Helena had been arranging for Edmundo completely fell through with the reveal of the child and he hasn’t publicly dated anyone since.

So now they’re here: a proposed match between Maddie and Edmundo so Edmundo can ascend the throne in the fall like he’s supposed to.

 “I still don’t like it,” Buck mutters.

“How about a compromise?” Maddie suggests then. “We have a trial period.

“I personally have no desire to get married to a stranger – I would, at least, like to know the man’s favourite food or his hobbies – so why don’t we see if Prince Edmundo would be agreeable to my coming to stay at the palace? Six months. A proper courtship. And, if anything untoward happens or I suspect something isn’t right, the union is ended.”

Their parents share a look, conversing only with their eyes and pinched mouths. Eventually their father looks back to them. “If the Diazes agree, then fine. But Maddie, you are running out of time. If Prince Edmundo doesn’t marry you then you can’t protest whoever else we choose. You’ve put it off long enough.”

Buck wants to protest but he knows this isn’t his fight. He’ll get his turn whenever they decide to turn his attention to him. He watches Maddie take a measured breath and is, once again, in awe of his sister’s ability to keep her composure. He can never do that. He always feels too much.

She looks their parents dead in the eye and nods. “I understand.”

“I’ll write to Helena then,” Margaret sighs.

~

“I don’t like it.”

Eddie just about refrains from rolling his eyes. He suspects the hand he has braced against his temple is just about the only thing preventing his parents from seeing the exasperation on his face.

“It sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Eddie says and his mother clucks her tongue.

“Of course it does, Eddie. You’re just looking for a way to get out of this.”

“No, I’m not,” he exhales. He’s long since given up on trying to get out of this marriage. Any hope he had of marrying for love ended when his parents forced him to kick Shannon to the curb. Christopher arriving on his doorstep a few years ago left that hope buried six feet beneath the ground.

Truthfully, he doesn’t care anymore. His priority is Christopher now. He doesn’t need romantic love; all he needs is a political match with someone who will, at best, be decent to his son or, at worst, ignore Eddie and Christopher except for public appearances.  

He understands Maddie’s reticence though.

“Maddie’s last fiancé tried to murder her, Mother,” Eddie points out. “She doesn’t know me. Of course she’d be hesitant to marry immediately.”

“Philip and Margaret never mentioned this when we were making the arrangements though,” his father cuts in and Eddie does roll his eyes this time.

“They probably hadn’t told her yet,” he says. “Really, I don’t mind.” If anything, six months in which his parents fixate on someone else besides him sounds like a dream come true.

His parents whisper to each other but Eddie doesn’t bother trying to listen in. Instead he glances out the window to where Chimney is training in their new security hire, Ravi. The kid looks fresh out of high school and like he spooks way too easily but Eddie still wishes he was out there with them. Or in the playroom with Carla and Christopher.

Or anywhere that isn’t here.

“Fine,” Helena says, snapping him back into reality. “We’ll allow it. But you are to be on your best behaviour, Eddie. Do you understand how difficult it was for us to find you a match after your indiscretions-“

“You mean my son?”

His mother huffs. “You know we love Christopher. But people talk and you must admit your actions with that woman were completely reckless. Just like always.”

Eddie ducks his head, fists clenching in frustration. “Mom, it’s been nearly ten years since I last even saw Shannon. I was a kid. I was stupid. But I’m not going to apologise for it. Not when it gave me my son.”

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Ramon commands but then he folds, just slightly, and rubs at his forehead. “This is a good thing, Edmundo. It’s almost time for you to ascend the throne. It is your turn to honour this family; try to see that.”

Eddie doesn’t think there’s a single word in the English language he hates more than honour. Rolling his shoulders, he lowers his gaze and nods in acquiescence.

~

Eddie spends the rest of the day preparing for the Buckleys’ arrival with Hen, taking the chance to duck away to his room when she gets a phone call. She scowls at him and flaps her hand in a gesture that clearly indicates she doesn’t want him to go anywhere but he pretends not to understand and gets out of reach before she can grab him.

She’s confirmed Maddie’s brother, Evan, will be coming with her as well as Maddie’s personal security guard, Athena Grant. Eddie wasn’t aware the children of viscounts needed their own security detail but he guesses for Maddie it might be an extra precaution.

He’s heard the story, of course. How she and her previous husband had beaten the odds. Arranged marriages were common in their world but one that was also a love match was all but unheard of for people like them.

But Maddie and her fiancé, Doug, had seemed like the real thing. Their lavish wedding had been the talk of royal enthusiasts everywhere – the only people who actually pay attention to high society weddings. Then, a little over a year ago, Maddie was brutally attacked and almost killed.

Her husband had been the culprit.

And if Eddie’s sources are to be believed, Doug had been beating her the entire time they were together. Honestly, Eddie’s surprised she even agreed to the match. Though, if her parents are anything like his own, he doubts she had any say in the matter.

It makes him feel only the tiniest bit better about his own situation.

Losing Shannon is a pain that still aches deep inside of him but at least he’d loved her and she’d loved him back. And if nothing else, she’d given him Christopher, the most precious gift of Eddie’s life.

With him and Maddie…well. He doesn’t think they’ll fall in love but maybe they can be friends. After all, isn’t that what marriage is? Companionship? Eddie’s had love now; he knows what it felt like. Once is more than enough for him. He can be grateful for that – it’s more than most people get in his line of work.

A knock at his open door rouses him from his reverie and he looks up to find his abuela standing at the threshold, a mischievous sort of smile on her face.

“Abuela,” he says warmly.

“I hear we have visitors coming?” she says, crossing into his room and coming to rest at the chaise longue near his writing desk.

“I’m pretty sure Mom’s arranging a car as we speak,” he says, flashing a fake smile.

Abuela hums, regarding him with an appraising look as if she’s trying to read everything he’s not saying in the set of his shoulders or the slant of his eyebrows. She’s always been far too perceptive when it comes to him.

“How are you really feeling, Eddito?” she asks. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Eddie hangs his head, letting out a weary sigh, before coming to sit beside her. “Do I have much of a choice?”

“You always have a choice,” she tuts. “Don’t let your parents make you think you don’t.”

“I always knew what my life would be. This isn’t some cruel twist of fate handed down by the universe. It’s my duty – to my family, to this kingdom.”

“And what about your duty to yourself?” she asks quietly and Eddie looks away.

He takes a moment to rally himself before he can manage to smile at her again. “I’ve gotten everything I want from life already. Christopher is enough. I don’t need anything else.”

Abuela watches him with something that could be pity on anyone else. From her, it’s just an overwhelming sense of empathy and love. She reaches out to pat his cheek and Eddie marvels – as he always does – at the way the casual affection he shares with her and his aunt never comes as easily with his parents.

“Protect yourself, Eddie,” she murmurs, a quiet request. “Please. For me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He swallows, emotion he doesn’t expect clogging his throat. “You had an arranged marriage. So did Mom and Dad. I’ll be fine,” he promises, lifting a hand to cover Abuela’s with his own where it still rests on his cheek.

“I know,” she says, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I was very happy with your abuelo. But you, mi ángel, have always dreamed of love. I want that for you.”

Tears burn behind his eyes but he blinks them away and forces a bright smile onto his face.

“I’m sure the Maddie will be a perfectly good match.”

It sounds like a lie even to himself.

~

Buck yanks at his tie for the sixth time since they got out of the car and Maddie slaps his hand away.

“Relax,” she mutters. “I feel like you’re more nervous than I am.”

He lets his hand drop with a sigh, shooting Athena a winning grin when she casts them both a sidelong glance. She rolls her eyes before turning back to talking to the Diaz chief of staff, Bobby Nash, as they make their way up the steps of the palace. Henrietta Wilson, who is Bobby’s second in command and evidently personally responsible for Prince Edmundo, keeps pace with him and Maddie.

“How are you feeling?” he asks under his breath and Maddie gives him an exasperated smile.

“I’m fine,” she insists, reaching out to latch onto his pinkie finger with her own and giving it a quick squeeze. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” he mutters.

Up until now Buck has been able to pretend this is all some farcical plan or- or a vacation for him and Maddie! But now they’re here and they’re about to have a formal introduction with the royal family and it suddenly feels real. Maddie’s getting married. Courtship or not, that’s the end goal in all this and she’s not going to be able to say no unless Buck can find a legitimate reason why.

And maybe it’s not Prince Edmundo’s fault and maybe he’s just as helpless in all of this as Maddie is but Buck’s still ready to hate him on sight.

This whole thing feels wrong, out of place. Maddie shouldn’t have to get married again if she doesn’t want to. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have to marry someone just to satisfy their parents’ need for social climbing. It’s not fair. She’s been through enough and he can’t believe their parents are willing to put her through another potential trauma by forcing her into an arranged marriage.

Well, not if Buck has anything to say about it.

He’s older now than he was when she and Doug first met and he’s determined to do whatever it takes to protect her. He even convinced his parents to let him be Maddie and Prince Edmundo’s chaperone during their courtship. (Not in an official capacity but still.)

It’s not much but if it lets him keep Maddie’s safe, it’s worth it.

They reach the main entryway and Buck grinds to an abrupt halt, just stopping short of barrelling straight into Athena. She gives him a look like she knows that’s exactly what he was about to do and he ducks his head, chagrined.

Henrietta clears her throat, clearly attempting to bite back a smirk when Buck looks up at her. “Ready?”

She’s talking to Maddie but Buck still has to tamp down on the urge to say no.

“Of course,” Maddie breathes and the doors open.

One of the other staff members introduces them. Buck hears it just as they step inside.

“Presenting the honourable Madeleine Buckley and her brother, Evan Buckley.”

The royal family are waiting by the staircase for them, their expressions ranging from eager to cordial.

And well. Prince Edmundo is exceedingly handsome, he’ll give him that.

He’s tall, though not quite as tall as Buck, dressed in formal attire with his hair swept back off his face in a way that looks seemingly effortless – unlike the fifteen minutes Buck spends in front of the mirror in the morning trying to make his curls sit just right. His tanned skin and big brown eyes, coupled with the affable smile make him seem…

Charming. He is, quite frankly, the fairy-tale definition of a Prince Charming and Buck feels himself seethe with something that’s not quite jealousy but maybe somewhere adjacent to that.

Prince Edmundo steps forward and, for the first time, Buck notices the little boy behind him. That must be his son, Christopher. He’s got crutches under his arms to keep him steady and one of the Diaz’s staff stands beside him – a kindly looking woman that keeps her hand protectively on his shoulder.

“Miss Buckley,” Prince Edmundo greets, stepping forward to take Maddie’s hand. He presses a faint kiss to the back of it and Buck bites the inside of his cheek so hard he’s pretty sure he draws blood. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“And you as well, your highness,” Maddie replies, offering up a curtsy and a careful smile. And if nothing else, Buck will admit the smile Prince Edmundo offers in response seems more sincere than Doug’s ever was.

He turns to Buck then, extending a hand to shake.

“Your highness,” Buck greets before Prince Edmundo gets a chance to, giving his hand a too-tight shake and finishing it off with a half-assed smile.

Prince Edmundo raises an eyebrow but decorum wins out above anything else. “Mr Buckley,” he returns, his own hand tightening for a moment around Buck’s. If Buck didn’t know any better he’d almost think he was amused.

Queen Helena interrupts then, gliding forward to take Maddie’s hand. “Madeleine. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Maddie bows again, greeting the queen with a, “Your majesty,” that betrays none of the unease she might be feeling. One thing’s for sure, their parents trained her well.

“Welcome to our home,” King Ramon adds, coming to stand beside his wife and offering Maddie a greeting of his own.

They greet Buck and Athena next, completely pleasant and completely perfunctory. Their focus is on Maddie and that’s abundantly clear. Well, that’s fine with Buck. It’ll make it a hell of a lot easier for him to poke holes in this whole match if no one’s paying attention to him.

“We hope your journey was pleasant?” Helena says, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It was very comfortable,” Maddie assures. “It was so generous of you to send a car.”

“It was our pleasure,” Helena says then and she looks like she means it. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat a bit more but I’m afraid the king and I have a very important meeting we must attend to.”

“The work never stops,” Ramon jokes. “Eddie will show you to your living quarters and we’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

With that, they take their leave and Buck lets out the breath he’s been holding this entire time.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Prince Edmundo does the same. But then he turns to them with a beatific smile and gestures to the staircase.

“You must be tired after your journey. I can show you to your rooms and give you some time to get settled?”

The car ride had only been a couple of hours but Buck’s not gonna complain. Standing on ceremony is exhausting.

“Thank you, Prince Edmundo,” Maddie says because Buck might’ve used up all his manners by now but she clearly hasn’t. “That’s very kind of you.”

For the first time, there’s something almost awkward in the prince’s demeanour. Buck doesn’t understand what it is until he says, “Please, call me Eddie. I don’t see any reason why we should have to stick to formalities if we’re going to be getting to know each other as we are over the next few months.”

Maddie’s shoulders drop where she stands beside him and Buck is begrudgingly impressed Prince Edmundo – Eddie – has managed to put his sister at ease.

“In that case, please call me Maddie,” she says. “I don’t need any titles. And Evan-“

“Goes by Buck,” he cuts in, flashing Eddie a closed-lip smile.

“Buck,” Eddie repeats, as if testing the name out.

Buck hates that he actually likes how it sounds coming from him.

“I’ll remember that,” Eddie says before glancing over his shoulder. “And um, if we’re still making introductions, I’d like you to meet our chaperone.”

He steps aside and Buck watches as the little boy takes three tentative steps forward to stand at his father’s side. Eddie immediately crouches down to his level once he does, wrapping a comforting arm around him and Buck hates his own traitorous heart for melting a little at the sight. “This is my son, Christopher.”

“Hi, Christopher,” Maddie says, voice warm and welcoming, as she holds out a hand for him to shake. She always was amazing with kids. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Christopher takes her hand after a moment’s hesitation and stutters out a soft, “Miss Buckley,” that has Buck biting his lip so he can maintain his composure.

Why did Eddie have to have such a cute kid?

“You don’t have to call me that,” Maddie says with a chuckle. “You can just call me Maddie if you like.”

Christopher nods and lets go of her hand and then Maddie is reaching back for Buck. “This is my brother, Evan.”

Buck huffs at his given name but obediently steps forward, crouching down in the same manner Eddie had to get on Christopher’s level.

“My friends call me Buck,” he tells Christopher with a wink, offering him a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you too, Buck,” Christopher says with a bashful smile as he fits his tiny hand in Buck’s to shake it.

Eddie clears his throat and there’s something inscrutable in his expression when Buck looks at him. “How about we show you to your room?”

~

[makorragal-312]

I can see it now...

Now that Chris is gone and his relationships with Marisol and Kim are over, Eddie is struggling to keep himself together and decides to stop dating while also trying to figure himself out after everything that happened.

All the while, Buck constantly checks in on him to make sure he's alright and even goes as far as to stay over at his place so that he doesn't wake up by himself. And now that Gerrard is captain and is making their shifts miserable, that becomes a common occurrence. And around the same time, Buck and Tommy are going through a rough patch because of him cancelling plans to check on Eddie and how Tommy wants Buck to act around Gerrard, which ultimately leads to them breaking up.

Then down the line, Eddie and Buck start to become closer than ever and Eddie comes to the conclusion that his relationships never worked out because he was trying to make a family with the wrong person when the whole time, he already had a family with the right person, which was Buck. At the same time, Buck starts to catch feelings for Eddie but is afraid to act on them partly out of fear and mainly because he doesn't want to take advantage of him when he's still missing Chris.

But eventually, Eddie just goes "fuck it" and finally kisses Buck, who has no qualms about kissing him back...

...and then, Chris walks through the door.

[bibewilderedandbuck]

Imagine Buck saying “i love you” first and for the first time Tommy feels behind. He feels like maybe they are moving too fast.

Then he has a talk with some of his team. They’re not AS close as the 118 but they put their life in each others hand’s on the regular and that counts for something.

Andy asks Tommy about last week, when Buck was complaining about his apartment being so far so they started talking about moving in together? Aubree mentions how much he jokes about buying a ring for his beau, and Tommy sits back because he does joke a lot about (he hasn't spoken to Evan directly about it but anytime the kid does something sweet he asks him his ring size). Lucy mentions the time they spend talking and texting, she calls it nauseating with a wink, but Tommy doesn't remember the last time he wanted another person in contact with him at all times and who returned the feeling tenfold.

And after all, with their job they could die any day. He sits in his kitchen and replays the moment Evan said it again and again: "I know I'm dragging you through milestones like a cat with a mouse, and I want to let you know that you don't have to say it back. But I love you, Tommy. You mean a lot to me and I'm so happy we met."

Nine months is the longest relationship Tommy has ever had. And he still wishes he could spend every waking second with Evan.

By the end of the night he's barging into Buck's apartment and sticking his tongue in the younger man's mouth. He stands back and pushes his chest up and smiles and says "I love you too, Evan."

Buck is laughing, he's smiling and kissing his boyfriend back and hugging him tight. He can feel Tommy's heart racing when he puts his hand to Tommy's chest. He expected it to take longer. He'd heard about all the ways Tommy had been hurt before. But in the end it only took a day

then they hear a flush and Eddie walks out of the bathroom. He's smiling because Buck's loft is Not Big and he might have heard every word. For just a moment, they all stand in silence not uncomfortable per say but definitely charged.

Then Eddie says "I love you too, bro." Buck lovingly rolls his eyes and Tommy is cracking up. If it were anyone else he'd probably feel embarrassed but Eddie has shared friendly declarations of love before and its not uncommon for the L word to be passed around a 118 dinner party like hors d'oeuvres.

[gayeddieagenda]

i wear your socks and slippers

buck/eddie | getting together, pre-season 7 | rated e | 6k

“Do you ever wonder–I mean, do you ever think about it?” Buck said. He was rambling, had been for the better part of a couple minutes now. Eddie was being patient with him. Watching him, steady gaze over a beer bottle held loose in his hand. “It would be easier, right?” “What would?” Eddie said. “You and me,” Buck said. “If we, you know, worked. Together, not just as friends.”

read on ao3

[tabbytabbytabby]

Falling Head Over Heels In A Coffee Shop

Word Count: 1,800 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: 9-1-1

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Lucy Donato & Tommy Kinard

Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Mutual Pining, POV Tommy Kinard, Matchmaking, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, Tommy Kinard Calls Evan "Buck" Buckley by Given Name "Evan", Flirting, Writer Evan "Buck" Buckley, Coffee Shop Owner Tommy Kinard

Summary: Evan's been visiting Tommy's coffee shop for months, and with each visit, Tommy finds himself falling for him. The problem is, he's never taken the chance to really talk to him. Until one day, with some help from Lucy, he finally does.

For Day 4 of @911charactershipweeks Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard Week 2024: Wild Card

Read on AO3

[buckevanley]

any other bodily sense.

you can also read it here on ao3

The second Eddie steps into the dark, muggy parking lot at the end of his first twenty-four hour shift since a ladder truck blew up his best friend’s life, Maddie is calling him. 

This strikes Eddie as odd for two reasons. One, he didn’t even know he had Maddie’s actual number in his phone. He’s gotten so used to hearing her calm, steady timbre over the radio during calls that her voice has more or less become synonymous with imminent emergency incoming in his head. 

Two, he and Maddie have never really actively spoken on the phone before outside of that bubble of imminent emergency incoming, which leaves Eddie to assume that there’s only one thing she could be calling about. 

He picks up on the third ring. “Maddie?” 

“Eddie, hi,” Maddie’s voice rushes out on a sigh, relief staticky down the phone line. “Sorry, I know it’s late. Or, God–really, really early. I hope I didn’t wake you. Did I wake you?”

“Uh, no. No, you caught me at the perfect time, actually,” he says, looking around the slowly emptying parking lot as the rest of the shift shuffles off to their cars. The rain, which has been an endless droll on the station roof all day, finally petered off, leaving every surface shiny and slick in the streetlights starting to come to life. The heat is already starting to bake it off, filling his nose with the smell of wet, hot asphalt and steam. 

He sniffs, staving off the tickle of a sneeze. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just–,” she takes a breath, and it’s so different from her usual steadiness that the muscles in his shoulders pull tense, like his body knows the answer before she even says it. “It’s Buck.”  

Eddie grimaces, suspicions confirmed, and immediately kicks into gear. He takes long, wide strides across the parking lot to get to his truck, pinching the phone between his cheek and shoulder to dig for his keys in his pocket. “What happened?” 

“We just got back from the ER. He’s fine,” Maddie adds immediately, like she can hear the way Eddie’s stomach shoves its way up into his lungs. “He’s okay, it’s just a bad cold. But he’s running a pretty high fever, and with it coming on so recently after his surgery,” her voice trails off, and Eddie puts two and two together easily. 

“You were worried it could be something worse,” he finishes for her. Postoperative fevers aren’t unusual—Eddie had his own rough go of it after the surgeon pulled three bullets out of him overseas. He remembers the shivering, the pins and needles, the misery of his body stuck in overdrive while it slowly tried to pull itself back together—but it must be a bad one if it’s got Maddie worried enough for an ER trip. His mind helpfully fills in the blanks on potential complications, all of them scary, none of them pleasant.  

“Yeah,” she replies softly. He hears a little sniff, and he can almost see the way her brows pull together as she tries to stave off the tears, nodding.“Yeah, he just spooked me, is all.” 

Eddie doesn’t waste any time. He hauls himself into the truck in one, swift movement, the handle wet beneath his fingers. “What do you need me to do?” 

“Come over? To the loft,” she asks, then laughs a little. The sound is tired, but helplessly fond. “He wants to sleep in bed, and I can’t carry him up the stairs.” 

Well, okay. Neither can Eddie. But somehow he doesn’t think she would appreciate that sentiment right now, when she’s so clearly trying to make her little brother less miserable in an already pretty fucking miserable situation. A tight knot, hidden and tucked snugly against the underside of his sternum gives a ferocious little tug when he realizes that he was the person she thought to call to make that happen. 

And he would try, if it really came down to it. He would carry Buck up those god awful stairs, leg cast and all, if it meant that his best friend was just a little less miserable. 

Eddie would’ve picked that ladder truck up and thrown it down the street for Buck, if it was within his power. 

“Curse of being short,” he jokes instead of saying any of that, and it earns him a scoff of protest, light with surprise. It’s a genuine thing, though, and helps that knot in his chest loosen, just a little. “Give me a few minutes to pick up some things. I’ll be over in ten.” 

On the drive over he calls Pepa, explaining the situation and letting her know that he’s going to have to pick up Christopher in the morning instead of tonight. He feels bad that she had to stay up so late waiting only for him to call off at the last minute, but she swiftly assuages his guilt, citing that she’s happy to let the little boy sleep. 

“We’re fine here, Edmundo. Don’t worry about us,” she says, tone steady and patient, and he feels like he can breathe a little easier for it. “In the morning I will have some caldo de pollo for you to bring to your boy. It will help him feel much better.” 

At first Eddie thinks she means Christopher. But before he can open his mouth to correct her on the fact that Buck is not his boy, just a good friend and work partner, Pepa is wishing him goodnight and ending the call with a long, overexaggerated yawn. Eddie snorts, wishing her a good night and ending the call with a press of his thumb. 

In the following silence, he can’t help the sound of disbelief that huffs out of his lungs, shaking his head. 

Buck. His boy. 

He sits with that thought as he drives, tires swirling through the steam drifting listlessly off the sleepy, wet streets of LA. A slow seeping warmth begins to spread from where that knot is pulling loose in his chest, making its way into his limbs, buzzing and heavy. Grip on the wheel tightening, he feels the muscle jump in his jaw.  

Despite the fact that it feels like sinking, it’s not claustrophobic. If anything, it feels snug, like stability. Like being held. 

He doesn’t know why that scares him so much.

By the time he parks and is walking up to the loft, he’s literally shaking out his arms to get rid of the feeling. He stops as soon as he realizes, feeling silly. Eddie takes the stairs two at a time to get to Buck’s floor, his gym bag bumping against his hip where it’s swinging from his shoulder. He manages to wrestle the feeling back down by the time he makes it to the door. 

He knocks, even though he has a key, but with Maddie inside it just feels better to knock. Like he’s offering her some control in a situation she already has very little over. Her brother is sick and hurting, and she’s the one who has the power to open the door and let Eddie in to help. He can give her that, at least.

He doesn’t have to wait for long. He’s barely lifted his knuckles from the wood when the door is swinging open to reveal Maddie on the other side, looking both so elated and so deeply tired that Eddie’s heart aches a little at the sight of her. 

“Thank you for coming,” she says the second she opens the door, stepping back to let him inside. “Really, Eddie. I mean it.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies, aiming for joking as he steps carefully inside while she shuts the door behind him. Setting his bag down by the island counter, he turns back to her, running his palms down and back up his thighs to stop himself from wringing them together. “Not until he’s up those stairs. How’s he doing?”

“Better now with the Tylenol I just gave him,” Maddie says, keeping her voice soft. She runs a hand through her hair, holding it back out of her face as she fills him in with a sigh. “They said everything looked okay with his stitches, no signs of infection or bad drainage. We’ve been really careful about keeping the cast dry when he showers, so there’s no irritation from water damage. It’s terrible timing, but it really is just a bad cold. There’s not much else we can do but fill him up with cough medicine and hope he doesn’t chew his own leg off from boredom.”

“Easier said than done,” Eddie says, leaning back against the counter. After a moment his brows draw together. “You said we?”

“Me and Evan, yeah,” Maddie nods. Her cheeks color a little, but she smiles as she tells him, “Chimney’s been helping me out with bringing meals over, too. Oh, and sometimes Josh comes by after work and we play cards.” 

“What happened to Ali?” It’s out of his mouth before he can think about it, and he watches something in Maddie’s eyes shutter closed like a steel grate. She opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of snuffling from around the loft stairs. 

He exchanges a quick glance with Maddie, eyebrows raised. She only shakes her head, mouth pressed into a thin line, and that’s all Eddie needs to confirm his suspicions about the noticeable lack of girlfriend in Buck’s apartment at the moment. He’s a little relieved, if he’s honest. Ali was nice enough, but Eddie always quietly thought there really wasn’t a lot that she and Buck had in common, besides surviving a 7.1 earthquake.  

It’s easy to push up off the counter and give in to gravitational pull in his chest, the one that pulls him around the loft stairs like a needle compass to true north, to see his best friend bundled up on the couch, groggily sitting up and blinking awake, slowly emerging from underneath a fuzzy purple throw blanket that’s tucked underneath his chin. 

Buck looks, to put it nicely, like warmed up roadkill. It’s only been a week since he left the hospital, and the nasty scrape on his forehead is still healing, purplish green bruising skating down his temple to his chin like an oil spill. The fever is a bright red stain high up on his cheeks, and the soft pink of his mouth, half open already since he can’t breathe through his nose, drops a little further in surprise. He blinks up at Eddie, eyes owlish and blue. “Eddie?” 

It’s more of a croak than his name, but Eddie thinks it might be one of his favorite sounds in the world. 

“Hey, bud,” he says, way softer than he means to, and moves to sit down on the coffee table. He feels a smile pull across his face, and a real one at that. It’s the first time that he hasn’t had to force one in days. “How are you feeling?” 

“‘M fine,” Buck manages, and Eddie winces internally at how congested he sounds. Sniffing uselessly, Buck shuffles a little under his blanket. He swallows before finding his voice again. “What–what’re you doing here?” 

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing.” At Buck’s somewhat glazed, disbelieving stare, Eddie relents. “Maddie called me. Said you weren’t feeling great, and that you needed some help getting up those stairs.” 

At that, Buck frowns, brows drawing in. It looks like it might sting, the way the scab by his eyebrow pulls. “You're not gonna be able to carry me.” 

“Why not?” 

“You’re too short,” Buck states, like it’s obvious. Eddie’s unable to muffle the miffed noise that kicks out of the back of his throat. 

“I am not,” he protests, and it only sounds a little like he’s whining. “I’m six foot!”

“An’ I’m six two,” Buck replies, like that somehow trumps all of Eddie’s firefighting and military experience. He opens his mouth to say as much, but Buck is busy shimmying the blanket back to reveal the awkward, clunky cast that will be chaining him down to that couch for the next three months. “‘Sides,” he says, “can’t carry me with this thing. Too heavy.” 

“Your cast does not weigh a ton, Buck,” Maddie says, crossing over from the kitchen to come perch on the armchair. From her tone it sounds like they’ve had this conversation before. 

“Does too,” Buck mumbles back, so sullen that Eddie has to bite back a smile. “Weighs two tons, probably. No way we make it up the stairs.” 

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you begged me to call Eddie to come carry you, then,” she replies, and Eddie’s brain trips over itself as every thought comes to a screeching halt like a comically long record scratch. 

“Maddie,” Buck whines. “You’re not s’pposed to listen to me. I was loopy on cough medicine.” 

“You’re still loopy on cough medicine,” she reminds him, sounding not sorry at all as she leans over and presses a kiss to the side of his temple that isn’t scraped to shit. Buck turns into it like a flower towards the sun, letting his sister card her fingers gently through his hair. “But look, Eddie’s here now, see? You’re welcome.” 

“Thank you,” Buck grumbles out, and Maddie rolls her eyes in a way that is both long-suffering and inexplicably fond. She leans back, and Buck peeks over at Eddie, almost like he’s shy. “Hi, Eddie.” 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie hears himself say, faintly, because his body is currently trying to manually reboot from the blue screen Maddie just caused.

Buck asked for him. Buck could’ve asked for anybody. Any one of the 118 would’ve picked up Maddie’s call and come running, but Buck didn’t ask for that. 

He asked for Eddie.  

Eddie is not going to lie. It’s no secret that he hasn’t exactly been the most present, lately. He never, ever lets it interfere with his job, because he loves being a firefighter and he cares about the people he works with too much to not give them his everything. He trusts them implicitly to have his back out in the field, and Eddie would rather walk on hot coals in bare feet than let any of his team think he doesn’t have theirs. 

But outside of the job—when he’s not Firefighter Diaz, and all the adrenaline and focus drains out of him, and the only thing he can manage is a threadbare goodbye in the locker rooms before he’s shuffling off at the end of a shift like a goddamn zombie, limbs still moving despite the fact that his skull feels heavy and hollow—when he’s just Eddie? 

Who would ever want just Eddie? 

“Right,” he says, swiftly cutting off that train of thought at the knees. He sits up a little from where he was leaning on his elbows and points at Buck, who blinks at his finger. “We need to get you in bed.”

“I already told you,” Buck groans in a way that sounds suspiciously like Christopher, slumping down to burrow deeper underneath his blanket. It might be Maddie’s, actually, because Eddie doesn’t think Buck has ever owned a single throw blanket in his entire life. Eddie plans on rectifying that immediately. “There’s no way you guys can carry me. You’re—” 

“Too short. Trust us, Buck, we know,” Maddie cuts him off. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie, eyes narrowing pointedly. “Some of us have been told twice.” 

And yeah, okay, Eddie deserves that one. 

He’s surrounded by Buckley sass on all sides tonight, Dios help him. 

“Alright, then,” Eddie says, standing up. Thinking quick on his feet, his eyes dart around as he takes in the shape of the living room. After a moment, he gets an idea. “Here. Maddie, help me move the coffee table?” 

“Oh! Uh, sure,” Maddie’s quick to hop up and help Eddie move the table out of the way in the kitchen. The side table quickly follows that too.   

“Okay, what’s happening?” Buck asks, shuffling to sit back up as Eddie takes the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom. He calls, voice strained and craggy,“Why are we tearing apart my living room?” 

“Well, I figure if we can’t bring you to your bed,” Eddie reasons as he comes back downstairs to plop Buck’s comforter and obnoxiously big pillow that he insists helps support his neck right onto his lap. Buck stares, eyes wide and bewildered, and Eddie smiles at him, shrugging. “Then we can bring your bed to you.” 

A few minutes later—with some surprisingly efficient coordination between the two of them and a very good demonstration of geometry skills on Maddie’s part—Eddie and Maddie manage to drag Buck’s king size mattress, sheets and pillows and all, down the stairs and situate it so it’s pressed right up against the couch. Now all Buck has to do is carefully slip down and shimmy a little to get in the center of the mattress, just how he likes. 

Which he does, almost immediately. The second his head hits the pillow Buck is conked out, mouth open and snoring even before Maddie is finished making sure his cast is properly elevated with some more pillows stolen from the couch. 

“Wow,” she says, sounding genuinely impressed a few minutes later when she and Eddie settle at the kitchen island. “I think that’s the fastest he’s gone to sleep since he got home.” 

Eddie just finished turning the lights down low to let Buck sleep, and she presses a warm mug into his hands the moment he sits down. He cradles it gratefully, the sweet warmth of cider filling up his nose a pleasant surprise. There’s a specific kind that Eddie likes from a small farmer’s market that pops up by the firehouse every so often. He didn’t know Buck still had some. 

“Seriously?” he asks, surprised, and she nods around a slow sip from her own mug. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Buck doesn’t exactly know how to sit still,” she says, and he can’t help the laugh he lets out, air leaving his nose in a soft huff. Maddie smiles at him. “That hasn’t changed much since he was a kid. God, he used to toss and turn for hours. Especially when he was sick.” 

“That’s a little harder to do with a full leg cast,” Eddie points out, and she hums in agreement. 

“The only way I could get him to sleep is if I let him sleep in bed with me,” she admits, gaze drifting over to where Buck is starfished out on his mattress. Her eyes are warm, if not a little sad. “Then at least he would stay still, otherwise I threatened to kick him out if he kept wiggling around. But he’d go right to sleep, curled up next to me.” 

Eddie can picture it. The two of them, small and young, huddled together beneath a blanket, Maddie’s arm curled around Buck’s shoulders, his nose pressed into her hair. Offering the delicate heat of their own bodies to create a bigger, better warmth together. 

“He always got me sick afterwards, too. But I didn’t mind,” Maddie says, smiling a little. She adds, quieter, almost to herself, “I think he always sleeps better, knowing somebody he loves is close.” 

Unbidden, Eddie thinks of all the times he’s watched Buck drop into bed in the bunkroom and not move an inch. Stretched out on his stomach in a way that is sure to give him back problems later on, sheets pulled haphazardly up around his waist, clinging to his pillow. 

He thinks about how many times he’s watched Hen pause to adjust the sheets until they were pulled up to Buck’s ears as she passed by to go to her own bunk. How many times he’s watched Bobby turn off the lamp by Buck’s head if he forgot to before he fell asleep. How many times Eddie himself has absentmindedly straightened out Buck’s boots while he unties the laces of his own, watching his friend’s back rise and fall every time he breathes. 

Not once, during any of those moments, did Buck ever stir. 

“My mom would quarantine us as kids. My sisters and I,” Eddie says. He doesn’t even mean to, but then Maddie’s turning those big, brown eyes on him, attentive and open and listening, and he just keeps going. “Five people in one house like that, no way was she dealing with three sick kids at once. Four, actually, if my dad caught it too.” 

Maddie laughs at that, and Eddie smiles at her. He tells her, “Problem was, there were only two kids' bedrooms, right? Mine, and the room my sisters shared. So whoever got sick got stuck in my room, and the other two would have to share Sophia and Adriana’s. And my mom—she treated any illness like it was the worst thing to ever happen. Even if it was just a cold, it might as well have been la plaga de la muerte. We weren’t allowed anyone near that bedroom, and whoever was stuck inside wasn’t allowed out until their temperature was back below a hundred degrees.” 

“What about eating? Like breakfast and dinner?” Maddie asks, and Eddie shrugs. 

“She’d leave a tray at the door. Food, water, meds, she’d drop it off and knock.” 

“And what about going to the bathroom?” 

“Alright, she wasn’t that crazy,” Eddie laughs, and Maddie holds up her hands in mock surrender. 

“Okay! Okay, just making sure,” she says, and watches him while he takes a slow sip from his mug for a few beats. The cider warming his belly, he almost misses it when she asks, “Did your parents really just let you deal with being sick alone like that?” 

“Not always,” he says. “My dad had this trick, to help with congestion. He’d take a washcloth, soak it in hot water, and then drape it over your face so you could breathe in the steam and alleviate some of the pressure. It worked, at least for a few minutes anyway. He didn’t do it a lot, didn’t want to get caught by my mom, I think. But I remember him sitting with me, sometimes. Just holding my hand.” 

He thinks about being six, and seven, and nine years old, alone in his bedroom, shivering ferociously while his body fought off the illness. He thinks about the relief he felt, blindly clutching at a big, calloused hand in that warm darkness where he could finally breathe again. He thinks about dreading the moment when the washcloth went cold, and his father’s touch would slip away.

“I don’t remember when he stopped doing it,” he says, and knows it’s a lie the second it’s out of his mouth. He knows exactly when. It was the same time Ramon sat him down and told him it was time for him to step up, to become a real man. “I was ten, I think.”  

“That’s—” Maddie starts, then stops, and something about her tone makes him look up. She’s already looking at him when their eyes meet. There’s no pity, in her gaze. Just heaviness, and a profound sense of understanding. 

“That sounds really lonely, Eddie,” she says gently, and Eddie thinks it should feel it like a punch to the gut. If it was anyone else saying it, he's pretty sure the gravity of that statement would have him doubling over in his seat. 

“It was,” he admits quietly, surprising himself. 

Eyes hot, Eddie blinks, suddenly finding it very difficult to continue meeting her gaze. He looks over at where Buck is sleeping, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the comforter. He finds himself trying to match his own breathing to that steady rhythm, seamless and slow. 

“The truth is I would’ve given anything to have someone stay with me, like you did for him,” he says, looking back at her, and Maddie’s whole expression crumples in on itself, her lip wobbling a little as she nods. She reaches out across the counter, palm up, fingers open. Offering her own warmth out to him. 

Eddie slides his hand into hers without a second thought, squeezing tight. She squeezes back, and the heat created between their palms makes Eddie feel steadier than he has in months. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, just holding on to one another, until Maddie’s phone chirps from the kitchen counter. Sniffing a little, she pulls back and reaches for it, not without giving his fingers one last squeeze. Eddie does her the courtesy of not pointing out the stray tear that’s running down her chin, too busy wiping at his own. 

“Shit,” Maddie says succinctly, and Eddie looks over at her in alarm. 

“What?” 

“Chimney just texted,” she says, grimacing at her phone like it just personally insulted her. “He’s asking if he should bring over breakfast tomorrow. I completely forgot to tell him I have a shift in the morning.” 

“In the morning?” he repeats, and she nods, expression turning sheepish. She looks a whole awful lot like Buck, when she’s smiling like that. He checks the time on his phone. “Maddie, you need to go home and sleep.” 

“I was going to!” She stresses, just barely catching herself from raising her voice. Her eyes dart over to where her brother is still sleeping soundly before she turns back to him, leaning in with a half stage whisper. “I was going to. But then everything with Buck came up, and I—” 

She cuts herself off with a huff, running a hand through her hair as she shakes her head. “You didn’t see him earlier when I got back. He was so sick, Eddie. His fever was so bad he couldn’t even get up to get to the medicine cabinet. I can’t just leave him here alone. What if—” 

“I’ll stay,” Eddie offers, automatically. Easily. “I can stay with him tonight.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Maddie says. “What about Christopher? Don’t you need to pick him up?” 

“You’re not asking. I’m happy to do it,” he says, already waving away her concerns as gently as he can. “And tomorrow’s Saturday anyway. Pepa will be happy to hold on to Chris for a little longer. She and my tío Paco will make him migas for breakfast and ruin my chance of ever getting him to eat my omelets again.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, worrying at her bottom lip. Carefully, Eddie reaches out across the counter and holds out his hand just like she had before, palm up. She interlaces their fingers without a moment of hesitation, and he squeezes tightly. 

“I’m sure,” he promises, and after a moment she nods, squeezing back. 

Maddie leaves shortly after that. Eddie helps her gather up her purse and other things while she tiptoes around the mattress in the living room to kiss Buck’s forehead and whisper goodbye. He snuffles a little in his sleep, turning towards her voice, but otherwise doesn’t stir. 

She hugs him tight before she goes, which stuns Eddie for all of two seconds before he’s folding his arms around her, her hair tickling his chin. She makes him promise to call her if they need anything, even if it’s in the middle of the night, and then she’s gone out the door, leaving only the warmth of her embrace in her wake. 

And then it’s just Eddie, standing in the entryway of the loft, his best friend sleeping soundly behind him.

The first thing Eddie does is text Pepa that he’ll be a little later in picking up Chris in the morning. It’s late enough now that she’ll have gone to sleep at this point, but he trusts she’ll see it when she wakes up, and that’s enough for him. He also asks her to send him her migas con huevos recipe, which he’ll no doubt butcher the shit out of, but it’s something he and Chris can do over the weekend together. Maybe they can bring Buck over the leftovers, if they’re not burnt.

The second thing he does is shower. Maddie was polite enough not to say anything when they hugged, but he knows he’s more than a little ripe after coming off a twenty-four hour shift. He uses the upstairs bathroom in an attempt to keep the noise down. Buck, who’s currently snorting like a war horse in his sleep, doesn’t seem to mind. 

Rinsing off the sweat and worry of the day, he only feels a little bad about using Buck’s body wash. It’s a nice smell—sandalwood, and something that kind of reminds Eddie of orange zest and fresh oatmeal. 

Stepping out of the bathroom in a towel, it dawns on him that he doesn’t have a change of clothes. He has his street clothes that he could change back into, but he’s not exactly thrilled at the idea of sleeping in jeans tonight. 

So instead, he just digs out a pair of sleep shorts from Buck’s dresser and a T-shirt that he doesn’t think Buck will mind him wearing. It’s a little big in the shoulders—with a faded image of Bruce Springsteen’s fingers curled around the neck of his guitar plastered on the front, a silver bracelet drooping over the back of his hand—but it’ll do. 

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself, for a moment. He can’t turn on the TV with Buck sleeping in the living room, not that there’s much of anything he’d be interested in watching at this hour. Plus, Buck doesn’t have Hulu so he can’t put on old baseball reruns on ESPN. 

He briefly considers making himself a cup of coffee, or some more of that cider, but ultimately decides against it. The day has been long, and only made longer by Maddie’s sudden call, so Eddie decides to follow Buck’s lead and crash. 

He fishes around in his gym bag until he finds his earbuds, then moseys over to the couch after turning off the lights, using the dim glow of his phone screen to lead the way. Taking up the throw blanket Buck abandoned for his comforter, Eddie gets himself situated on the couch, tucking one earbud into his ear. There’s a mystery podcast that Buck has been raving about for a while, and Eddie thinks it’ll make the perfect background noise to fall asleep to. 

Turning on his side to get comfortable while the host starts up a lulling, ominous monologue about strange weather phenomena in his ear, Eddie takes a minute to catalogue Buck’s sleeping form below him, slack jawed and snoring. His head is turned away from Eddie, so he can just make out the light stubble on Buck’s jaw. His hair is going to be a wild mess come morning, and Eddie smiles a little at the perfect little curl he can see resting against Buck’s pillow above his head. 

Because he’s unable to flip flop around like a restless pancake, Buck’s taken to fidgeting with his arms. He’s got one hand up by his head on the pillow, the other arm is stretched completely out across the mattress by Eddie’s head on the couch. His palm is up, fingers splayed out. Reaching, even in sleep.

There’s a small, white scar that curls around the bone of Buck’s wrist. A biking accident, from when he was young. He can’t see it well, but Eddie knows it’s there. He remembers watching Buck thumb at it when he told him, during a slow moment between calls at the firehouse. 

Carefully, so carefully, Eddie reaches out and traces his fingertips over that line, following it to the delicate, paper thin skin over the vein of his wrist, and then up to the life lines of Buck’s palm. Reflexively, Buck’s nerves react to the touch, his fingers curling around Eddie’s in a lax hold. Strangely, Eddie feels his face flood with heat, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. 

For some reason, he doesn’t let go. He ghosts his thumb over the warm skin of Buck’s knuckles, eyelids starting to get heavy as he keeps up the slow, hypnotic motion. 

Maybe Buck’s not the only one who sleeps better, knowing that his loved ones are close by. 

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Eddie is pulled out of his doze by the faint feeling of a warmth pulling away, leaving his fingers cold. Half awake, he reaches for it, but only finds more empty space. 

That gets him awake. Blinking open his eyes—it’s harder to orient himself with the podcast host talking about frogs raining from the sky somewhere over Serbia in his ear—it takes his sleep-addled brain a minute to understand what he’s looking at. 

Buck, who has so far been sleeping like the dead, is sitting up ramrod straight in the dark, not moving. 

“Buck?” Eddie rasps. “You okay?” 

Buck doesn’t answer, which has Eddie’s pulse spiking oddly up into his throat. He rips out the earbud and sits up, straining to turn the lamp on behind the couch so he can see what’s wrong. He twists back around to see that Buck’s eyes are open, staring off into the middle distance with his eyebrows raised, like he’s waiting for something to happen. 

Eddie’s just about to ask again when Buck’s whole face contorts, and suddenly he’s letting out the most ear piercing, earth shattering sneeze that Eddie has ever heard in his life. It has him startling like a horse at the sight of a snake—he nearly jumps half a foot in the air from the sheer power of it alone. 

And Christopher thought Eddie’s dad sneezes were bad. 

“Jesus Christ, Buck,” he gasps, unpeeling himself from the back of the couch, one hand clutched over his chest to calm his racing heart. He laughs, a little strangled by the unnecessary adrenaline. “You couldn’t warn a guy first?”  

“S’rry,” Buck slurs out, so muffled by his hands that Eddie can barely hear him. “My bad.”

“Hey.” Eddie moves forward immediately, setting a hand on Buck’s shoulder when he leans forward, hand cupped around his face. “Hey, you okay?”

“Need a tissue,” Buck kind of gurgles, pulling his hands back a little and oh, yep. Yes he does. Eddie quickly throws off his blanket and hops up, hurrying over with the box off the coffee table and plopping it into Buck’s lap. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks after nearly half the tissue box has been demolished, the evidence filling up the bathroom garbage can that Eddie quickly grabbed once the post-snot eruption nose blowing tornado started.

“Guh,” Buck replies eloquently, flopping back down onto his pillow. He lifts his head back up a little after a moment, looking muzzy but more alert. “What time is it?” 

Eddie gives a cursory glance at his phone. “It’s half past eleven.”  

Buck groans, flopping back down with more conviction. “Where’d Maddie go?” 

“She went back home to sleep before her shift tomorrow morning.” Eddie perches on the arm of the couch to look down at Buck, crossing one arm over the other. “You’re stuck with me for the night.” 

“Oh,” is all Buck says to that for a beat. “You don’t–you don’t have to do that. Isn’t it your day off with Chris tomorrow?” 

“Chris is with Pepa,” Eddie says, pointedly ignoring the way the genuine care in Buck’s voice makes his stomach do a complicated somersault maneuver. “And I do have to, actually. I’m under strict orders to keep an eye on you, otherwise your sister will skin me. Probably turn me into a rug or something.”

Buck is quiet for a long moment, absorbing this. Eddie watches him worry at his lip, a little chapped from being sick and dehydrated. He thinks that Buck and Maddie’s habits are practically interchangeable, at this point. 

“She wouldn’t make you into a rug,” Buck says eventually, expression surprisingly serious when he looks up at Eddie again. 

“Oh no?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “What would she make me into, then?”  

“She’d make you into something useful, like a blanket or–or a petticoat,” he says, then honest to god giggles at his own joke. “An Eddie-coat.” 

“A what?” 

“An Eddie-coat,” Buck reiterates, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his face like butter. “She’d make you into an Eddie-coat.” 

There’s a moment where neither of them says anything. Eddie stares at him, and Buck immediately breaks first, devolves into nasally, semi-delirious laughter. 

Valiantly fighting off a smile on his own face, Eddie rolls his eyes skyward. “Proud of yourself for that one, huh?” 

“You are too. Don’t act like you aren’t,” Buck beams up at him. “You think I’m hilarious.” 

Eddie purses his lips, cheeks warming, unable to fight back the smile this time, and Buck starts laughing all over again. He gets a little wheezy at the end, and Eddie winces when it turns into a wet, ugly sounding cough. 

“Alright, funny guy,” Eddie says, pushing off his perch. “Where’s that thermometer? We’re checking to see how cooked your brains are.” 

“Kitchen drawer. And my brains aren’t cooked,” Buck protests, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches Eddie root around his kitchen drawers. “Just, like–lightly sautéed, I think.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie comes back over, brandishing the thermometer above his head triumphantly. “I’ll be the judge of that. C’mere.” 

It’s easy to drop down onto the mattress and scooch close, careful not to jostle Buck’s cast too much. They’re practically pressed hip to hip, Buck’s shoulder fitting snugly into the crook of Eddie’s collarbone while they both peer down at the little device in Eddie’s hand. He’s hyper aware of Buck’s breathing when the thermometer beeps, declaring that it’s ready for use. 

“Here,” he murmurs, pulling back a little. He misses the contact almost immediately, but then something—happens. 

Buck looks up at him through his long, honey colored lashes, and he’s opening his mouth to let Eddie check his temperature, and Eddie physically feels it when his heart trips over itself and falls flat on its face. 

And just what the fuck is that all about? 

Vaguely feeling like he’s been plunged under water, Eddie tucks the thermometer under Buck’s tongue, who lets him do it without complaint. They wait the few minutes it takes for the thermometer to beep like that, just watching each other.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Buck asks after the thermometer beeps and breaks the silence. “Am I gonna make it?” 

Eddie squints at the number on the tiny screen. “No cooked brains,” he confirms. “Still a little warm, but that’ll go down with some more meds and sleep.”

“Oh thank god,” Buck sighs, sagging against Eddie’s side, head dropping down to rest on his shoulder. He can feel Buck’s smile through the thin shirt sleeve. “I don’t know what I’d do with cooked brains and a broken leg.” 

Barely breathing, he slides his palm up and down the length of Buck’s spine, turning his head to hide his smile in his friend’s hair. “Somehow, I think you’d manage.” 

Eddie feels a little bit like he’s getting away with something, here. 

They don’t do this. Sure, the occasional slap on the back or shoulder squeeze is fine. Normal. Sometimes Buck’s knee will brush Eddie’s in the engine and Eddie won’t pull away. But none of that leaves Eddie’s mouth dry, or like he’s suddenly too big for his skin, or like he weirdly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, keeping up that steady movement of his hand up and down Buck’s back.

Buck sniffs dejectedly, shrugging, and Eddie dutifully hands him another tissue from the box. 

“What can I do?” he asks, pulling back a little to give Buck some space while he blows his nose.

“Unless you can get me some new sinuses, not much.” Buck tosses the tissue in the trash can, his nose already turning a shade of red that let’s Eddie know it probably hurts like a bitch to blow. “Feels like my whole head is a cork in a champagne bottle.” 

Eddie hums, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. His thoughts drift back to the earlier conversation in the kitchen with Maddie, how easy it had been to share those memories with her, as painful as they are. 

Then he remembers Maddie’s hand squeezing his, the earnest understanding on her face as she met his eye, and he thinks that maybe that pain can be useful for something after all. 

“Can we try something?” he asks. 

“Uh.” Buck pauses, tissue half raised to his nose. “Sure?” 

“Great,” Eddie says, patting him on the back before standing up. “Take off your shirt.” 

“What?” Buck startles, staring after Eddie with wide eyes as he pads around the stairs and into the bathroom. His hands press instinctively to the grey zip up he’s wearing. “Wh–what do you mean take off my shirt?”  

“I mean, I’m going to put a wet washcloth on your face, and I don’t want your shirt to get soaked,” Eddie explains, coming back around to lean on the railing of the stairs. “Where are your washcloths, by the way?” 

“In the upstairs bathroom, second drawer down.” 

When Eddie comes back down, washcloth in hand, Buck hasn’t taken off his shirt. In fact, he’s pulling the sleeves of the zip up further down his hands. His mouth is pulled into a tight, small frown. 

“Buck?” Eddie pauses. “You okay?” 

“What is it supposed to do?” Buck asks, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say it sounds a little bit like he’s stalling. “The washcloth, I mean. How–how does it work?” 

“Oh,” Eddie blinks. “I was gonna soak it in hot water and then kind of drape it over your face. The steam is supposed to help with the pressure, I think. So your congestion will clear up and you can breathe better.” 

Buck is quiet for a long moment, nodding as he takes this in. He won’t look at Eddie, picking anxiously at a stray thread on his sleeve, teeth caught on his lower lip. 

“Hey.” Eddie comes to sit down at the edge of the mattress, ducking his head so he can meet his friend’s downcast gaze. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s not pretty,” Buck blurts out. He looks up, his voice pinched with distress. “The road rash, it—it’s pretty much healed up but it’s not gone yet, and I don’t—” he cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath. He shrugs mutely, staring down at his hands.  

After a moment, Eddie sets a hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb finding the crook of his collarbone like a magnet clicking into place. Naturally, easily. 

“I’m a paramedic, Buck,” he says, “I’ve seen way worse than a little road rash.” He smiles gently when Buck huffs, shoulder jumping under Eddie’s palm. “And I can take my shirt off too, if it helps,” he offers, teasing, and that’s enough to make Buck crack a smile. It’s small, but it’s real. 

“That’s okay,” he says, cheeks going a little pink, and Eddie’s really going to have to schedule a visit with his cardiologist, if his heart keeps flopping around in his chest like that. “You can keep your—wait. Is that my Bruce Springsteen shirt?” 

“Uhm.” And now it’s Eddie’s turn to feel uncomfortably hot, apparently. He hopes he’s not catching Buck’s cold already. He pulls back, nodding. “Yeah, I didn’t have any clothes to change into after work, so I borrowed one. If that’s okay.” 

“No, no—um,” Buck waves a hand awkwardly, face turning beet red as he gestures at Eddie’s person. “You’re good. It—yeah, it looks good. On you. You’re good.” 

“Thank you.” Now that they’ve both successfully embarrassed the hell out of themselves, Eddie motions with the hand holding the washcloth towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna—go get this wet.”

“Yep,” Buck says, nodding like a bobblehead. “Yeah, go right ahead.” 

“Great,” Eddie says, then all but flees to the bathroom. 

A few deep breaths and a pointed glare at his reflection in the mirror to fucking get it together, Diaz , later, Eddie leaves the washcloth in the sink with the hot water running, letting it soak while he comes back out to help Buck to stand up, careful not to let him twist or bump his cast in an awkward way while he gets his footing, leaning heavily on Eddie’s shoulder. 

He carefully does not react when Buck’s shirt comes off. Just stands steady while Buck shrugs out of his zip up, then keeps a firm hold of Buck’s back, acting as a dutiful crutch while his friend slowly works the black T-shirt off one sleeve at a time, and then pulls it up and over his head. 

There’s a violent roadmap of healing scrapes that starts on the pale skin of Buck’s hip and glides all the way up his torso, just stopping shy of the curve of his armpit before continuing on the soft, vulnerable underside of his arm all the way up to his elbow. If he wanted to, Eddie could trace the exact line of where Buck's body dragged when the truck skidded on its side. 

“Maddie cried, the first time she saw it.” Eddie drags his eyes up to see Buck already watching him. He smiles, sad. “She tried to hide it, but I—I think I scared her pretty good.”  

“She’s your big sister, Buck. She’s always going to worry about you,” Eddie says, carefully helping Buck slide his good arm around his shoulders, hand wrapping around Buck’s wrist, the other securely on Buck’s hip, careful not to press his fingers into any bruises. 

“And you don’t scare me,” he adds, softer, and Buck looks over at him, something so painfully earnest and open in his expression that Eddie wants to fold himself around his friend like a protective layer and shield him from all the awful in the world. 

Maybe Buck was onto something, earlier. Because from where he’s sitting, being made into an Eddie-coat doesn’t sound so bad right about now. 

The shuffle into the bathroom is a slow one, but with the warm line of Buck’s body pressed from hip to shoulder against him, Eddie finds he doesn’t really mind. 

After some debate, they get Buck situated on the bathroom floor with a pillow for him to sit on with Eddie sitting on the lip of the tub, Buck’s back against Eddie’s shins so he can easily tip his head back and rest against his knees. 

“You ready?” Eddie asks, unballing the washcloth carefully after wringing out the excess water in the tub behind him. It’s just a little too warm against his fingertips, steam coming off the fabric in fleeing, wispy curls. 

“Mhm,” Buck nods. He cranes his neck a little to look up at Eddie, squinting a little. “Am I supposed to do anything specific, or–?” 

“Nope,” Eddie replies, smiling down at him. “Just close your eyes and breathe. The steam will do all the work for you.”

“Okay.” Buck wiggles a little more to get comfortable. He lets his eyes slide shut, murmuring, “go ahead.” 

“Alright. Hold still.” 

Very gently, Eddie drapes the washcloth over Buck’s face, making sure that it covers his nose and eyes, smoothing out the edges on Buck’s forehead, just against his hairline. He makes sure it doesn’t sit too heavily over his mouth, just in case Buck starts feeling claustrophobic. 

A few stray water droplets immediately race over the curve of Buck’s chin and down his neck, pooling in the hollow of his throat. Eddie chases after one that slips down his cheek, stopping it from rolling into his ear with a soft swipe of his thumb. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks after a moment. 

Buck shifts, voice a little muffled. “It’s okay.”  

“Okay?” Eddie echoes. “Not too hot, or anything like that?”   

“Mm-mm, it’s good.” Buck takes a deep breath, then lets it go slowly, steam billowing off the fabric like a sleeping dragon lay beneath. After a second, he asks, “Can you shift forward a little? My neck kind of hurts.”

“Sure, here.” Carefully, he cradles Buck’s head in his hands and shifts his legs forward more, so Buck can lean back fully against his shins. Eddie gently starts massaging Buck’s temple with his thumbs, using slow, sweeping motions against the pressure he knows is built up there. “That better?”

“Yeah,” Buck sighs, melting into it. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you.” 

They stay like that for a beat, Eddie keeping up his ministrations before Buck’s curiosity is piqued enough for him to ask. “Where’d you even learn this from?” 

“Old Diaz family trick,” Eddie tells him, mouth quirking. “Waterboard your children while they’re ill so they can’t fight back.” 

That earns him a proper laugh, genuine and surprised and endearingly nasal, and the sound is so sweet that it warms Eddie straight through. 

After a few minutes of quiet, Buck sniffs, sounding clearer than he has all night. He takes another deep breath, much easier this time. “Oh, wow,” he says. “It really does work.” 

“See? What’d I tell you?” Eddie smiles, pleased. “You gotta trust me on these things, Buck.” 

Buck curls his arm around Eddie’s leg, fingers warm against the skin of his shin. Not squeezing, just holding on, thumb mirroring the sweeping motion of Eddie’s against Buck’s temple. It’s the same spot, Eddie registers distantly, where Buck’s surgery scar is hidden beneath his cast. 

“It’s you, Eds,” Buck murmurs. “I always trust you.” 

Eddie is suddenly so thankful that Buck cannot see his face, because it feels a little bit like he just got kicked in the chest by a mule. 

If he had been standing up, the force of it would have him bowing over. Instead he just sits there, staring down at his friend’s covered face with equal parts amazement and terror, and that’s when it hits him. 

He’s afraid of it—this implicit trust that Buck is so willingly giving him. Eddie is terrified of it, and the force of it startles him, but he doesn’t shy away. In fact, he welcomes it, feeling almost dizzy with relief. Because for the first time in his life, Eddie is wanted not for what he can give, or what role he can fill, or how well he can provide. 

Buck asked for Eddie because he is exactly that—just Eddie. 

The truth is ever since Shannon passed Eddie has had a hard time with feeling—not needed, but. Something close to it. A word like wanted feels like too much, too selfish. Useful, maybe. 

He couldn’t stop her from getting hit by that car that day, couldn’t even ease her pain, because by the time he got there there was no more pain for her to feel. The best he could do was twine their fingers together, clutching helplessly in a desperate attempt to give her his warmth, even as she grew colder by the minute, and stand there and listen to her tell him how much she wanted to stay, even as she was in the middle of leaving. 

Eddie couldn’t stop the ladder truck from blowing up, either. He could only stand there and watch as Buck came to, blood gushing down his face with grime caught in his fluttering eyelashes. He’d never felt more helpless than when he watched his best friend realize he was crushed under nearly fourteen tons of lifesaving equipment and metal, while Bobby talked down the bomber not even ten feet away. 

He couldn’t stop Buck from needing surgery, or the fever and illness that followed. But Eddie can be here, in the aftermath. He can fetch tissues for his friend’s poor nose, and drag Buck’s bigass mattress down the stairs so he can sleep more comfortably, and he can use the tricks from the rare moments he received his father’s warmth in childhood and make that old, familiar achy pain into something useful, something good. 

Eddie can be good. 

Maybe he always has been. 

Buck certainly seems to think so. Maddie, too. So maybe it’s time Eddie starts believing it himself, if only a little. 

The washcloth has cooled some, in the time it took Eddie to work himself into and back out of his miniature panic spiral, the steam no longer fleeing the fabric as rapidly as before. Eddie decides to relieve Buck of its weight before it can get too uncomfortable. 

“Buck,” Eddie says softly. “I’m going to take off the washcloth now, okay?” 

Buck doesn’t answer, the slow, even rise and fall of his chest telling Eddie that he’s probably dozing under there. Even dragons need their beauty sleep. At least he’s not snoring yet. 

“Buck?” he asks, a little louder. “You with me?” 

Buck’s answer is an incomprehensible, sleepy mumble. Eddie huffs a laugh through his nose, taking that as permission, and gently peels back the lukewarm washcloth from his friend’s face. He leans over and hands it up on the tub spout to dry before taking Buck’s head back up in both his hands, gently scratching at his scalp in apology for jostling him. 

Buck’s head is a heavy weight in his hands, and Eddie takes a few seconds to just take him in. His cheeks are still flush, more from the heat of the steam than the fever, now. Droplets of water have beaded on the sloping bridge of his nose and across the delicate skin below his eyes. It reminds Eddie of the constellations in Christopher’s favorite astronomy book as a kid—the one with holes punched in the pages that you can shine a light through and project them onto the ceiling. 

The proximity to the steam has made the edges of Buck's hair curlier than it already was, and Eddie's heart gets all sorts of warm behind his ribs because it reminds him so much of Chris's hair, too. He cards his fingers through it, and Buck hums, a warm, happy sound, and Eddie wants to be the one responsible for Buck making that noise for the rest of his life. 

He’s not really thinking when he leans down and presses his lips to the unscathed skin on Buck’s temple, checking his temperature the same way he’s done a thousand times with his son whenever he’s sick. Buck’s skin is warm and damp, but no unnatural heat is rising off him. It’s safe to say his fever’s finally broken. Feeling triumphant, Eddie presses a satisfied, lingering kiss to Buck’s hairline, smiling a little to himself. 

“Eddie?” Buck whispers. 

Oh, is the first thought Eddie has as he freezes in place, lips still brushing against Buck’s skin. 

The second, much more important thought he has is, oh no. 

Eddie’s breath stalls out in his lungs. He pulls back, eyes wide, and finds Buck staring right back.

“Hi,” Buck breathes. Up this close, he can see the starburst pattern in the blue of Buck’s irises around his pupil. It almost reminds Eddie of a nebula, or a flower. Light and life, blooming out. Reaching, reaching, reaching. 

Eddie opens his mouth, but his voice is being strangled somewhere beyond his back molars. He shuts it, swallowing. He whispers back, “Hey, Buck.” 

“Sorry I fell asleep on you,” Buck says, and it’s so not what Eddie was expecting that it bursts the bubble of anxiety that was forming inside his lungs, and all the air it was holding back leaves in a rush of relief. 

“That’s okay,” Eddie replies. He thinks he’s going to let Buck fall asleep on him whenever he wants for the rest of his life, forever. “I don’t mind being a pillow.” 

“Um,” Buck blinks a few times, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he finds his voice again, it’s low, a little grainy from his illness. It makes Eddie’s stomach flutter. “Did—did you kiss me, just now?”

Tongue like a balloon in his mouth, Eddie nods. “I was checking your temperature,” he explains, like that excuses anything at all. “Dad habit. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Buck says quickly. His eyes dark down to Eddie’s lips, then back up, lightning quick. He asks, voice soft and small, “Can you check it again?” 

Eddie feels his eyes go as wide as dinner plates. “You want me to?” 

“Yes,” Buck says, nodding frantically. “Yes I want you to.”  

So Eddie does. He checks Buck’s temperature above his left eyebrow, then his right, the bridge of his nose and each eye, both cheeks and even the divot of his chin. He kisses all of those little drops of starlight right off of Buck’s skin, savoring their taste, amazed that he’s even allowed to at all. Even more amazed when Buck chases after him and their nose knock, and then Eddie kisses it again in apology. 

They’re both smiling when he pulls back, giggling like children. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over how brilliant Buck’s smile is, bright and pleased and perfect. He’s pretty sure his own smile makes him look like an idiot. 

“You ready to get off this bathroom floor?” Eddie asks, failing to beat back the giddiness trying to escape his every pore. 

“Actually,” Buck says around a yawn, arching his back in a stretch before turning his nose to nudge against Eddie’s bare knee, eyes sliding shut. “I think I’m good right here.” 

Eddie’s smile only gets bigger. “You don’t want to wait until you’re back in bed?” 

“Can’t hear you. Too busy sleeping.” 

“Oh really?” Eddie muses. “After all that trouble Maddie and I went through to drag that mattress down those stairs?” 

That makes Buck open his eyes again, and then Eddie watches as his best friend’s expression sort of just—melts, lip wobbling for half a second before he catches it, swallowing hard. 

Eddie’s smile starts to slip. “What?” 

It takes Buck a few seconds to find his voice. When he finally does, his expression is so painfully sincere that it looks like it hurts. 

“You made me a couch-bed,” he says simply, staring up at Eddie in such awe that Eddie can’t help it. He laughs, soft and relieved, and feeling infinitely lighter than he has in months. Before Buck can get the wrong idea, he leans down and presses another kiss right against the strawberry pink of Buck’s birthmark. 

“It’s you, Buck,” he says, shrugging, a fond smile growing on his face as he stares down into those big, earnest baby blues. “It’s always you.”

That seems to do it for Buck, because the next thing Eddie knows he’s being pulled down and Buck is surging up and crushing their mouths together in a kiss. The angle is awkward, and their noses bump together hard enough that Eddie’s eyes water, but he doesn’t even care because Buck’s lips are warm against his, and everything about it is goofy and wonderful and perfect but there’s just one problem.

“Oh, no, Buck—come on,” Eddie rips himself away as soon as he remembers, leaning back and wiping at his mouth as Buck laughter fills up the tiny bathroom. He groans, “You’re going to get me sick.” 

“Sorry,” Buck says, not sounding sorry at all, the bastard. “Couldn’t wait.”  

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Eddie shakes his head, pinching Buck’s side playfully till he twists, swatting at Eddie’s hand with a gasped out laugh. “C’mon, let’s get you in that couch-bed.” 

“Only if you be my pillow,” Buck replies, practically beaming, and who is Eddie to deny an injured man what he wants? 

Buck is out like a light the second Eddie gets him back into some warm sleep clothes, and Eddie can’t help but smile at the way his friend sighs like an overworked puppy when he finally settles down into bed, feeling all kinds of gooey and fond at the sight of him. 

In the morning they’ll talk about it. They’ll have to. But for now, Eddie is content to turn off the lights in the loft and crawl into bed beside his best friend, his partner. His boy. 

The second he settles, Buck shifts, turning his head to tuck his snotty nose against the hinge of Eddie’s jaw, and in that moment Eddie doesn’t even care if it gets him sick, so long as he can keep being the warmth that Buck reaches for in sleep.

[setmeatopthepyre]

Begin

[@118dailydrabble day 14] [part of antarct-fic | bucktommy | 118 words]

It's just a short update in the LAFD captains' newsletter: “217 – Temporary Roster Changes”.

Bobby usually doesn't concern himself too much with the goings-on at other stations, but the 217 is one of the exceptions. So he clicks.

“Kinard, T. - Reassignment through USAP to McMurdo Station Heliport, Antarctica, effective immediately”

Bobby stares at his screen a moment longer. Glances at the clock.

He has to assume that Buck doesn't know. Feels like there would have been some.. fallout, of some sort.

Finally, he gets up and goes to make coffee. The rest of A-shift will be in soon, and he has until then to... think. To decide.

How does he even begin to tell Buck about this?

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids

“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”

Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.

Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”

Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”

Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”

Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”

“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.

Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”

“Maybe he should stay away from those.”

“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”

“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.

“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”

Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”

Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”

“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.

“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”

Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”

Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”

Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”

“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”

Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”

“Yes. I would.”

Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”

“Uh huh.”

He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.

“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.

Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.