#never over eddie coming at buck's to hide in a safe place

[caroandcats]

Buddie + ao3 tags || 7x05

[loucifersbitch]

new kink club wip update! chapter 3 is back to buck's POV (no porn this time, sorry. or you're welcome. depending on your preference sdlkfjdsklfj)

“There’s only so many places she could be.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at Buck over the young woman’s head. Kelsey? Chelsea? - one of those - had called 911 in a panic. Her nose wouldn’t stop bleeding, and she couldn’t safely get herself to the nearest ER, so the 118 were called out to help her. Hen quickly found the problem - a burst blood vessel brought on by the dry weather and exacerbated by undiagnosed haemophilia - and they were about to leave when she stopped them saying her dog was missing. “She ran off when the bleeding started, and I haven't seen her since!” she had cried, great tears tracking down her cheeks. So now the 118 are searching KelseyChelsea’s apartment for a 3lb yorkie named Ingrid Barkman. “Does she have any normal hiding spots?” Bobby asks, calm as ever. “No, she’s never hidden from me before.” Then a loud thunk comes from the back bedroom followed by a pained grunt from Chimney. “Found her!” he yells, strained, just as a tiny blur of a dog comes sprinting out of the bedroom. “Gonna need a little help back here.” Buck exchanges a confused look with Eddie, but they both rush back to find Chim pinned under a barbell with at least 95kgs of weight on the ends. Buck can’t help the snort that escapes him, and he takes a picture to send to Maddie later.  “Sure, laugh it up, Buckley,” Chim says. “Your sister won’t be laughing when she finds out you let her husband die because you had to take a picture before rescuing him!” Buck’s still laughing as he moves to lift the bar, but then he hears the click of another phone camera and turns to see Bobby and Hen with their phones out, too. So he steps back and lets them get all the photos they want - Chim griping the entire time - before helping Eddie lift the weight off. “You’re not married yet, Chim,” Buck reminds him, offering a hand to help him up. “You’ve still got three months of freedom left.” “‘Freedom,’ he says. Buck, I haven’t been - or wanted to be - “free” from your sister in years. The only thing this marriage will change is some legal paperwork and new jewelry.” “Hmm,” Ravi hums from behind them, pocketing his phone, “that’ll make a great video to show at your reception.” Ravi runs out of the room, narrowly avoiding Chimney swiping at him as he runs after him yelling, “Give that here, you little shit!” Bobby just shakes his head. “The professionalism of the LAFD,” he mutters. “Sorry about them, Chelsea. We’ll be on our way now that you have Ingrid again.” Chelsea just nods, tears still staining her cheeks as she kisses the top of Ingrid’s head.

tagging @powersuitup @theotherbuckley @buckleylonglegs @carrythatwayt @rdng1230

@sherlocking-out-loud @lavenderleahy @sunglassesmish @buckevantommy @buckera

@evansboyfriend @monsterrae1 @buckhastwohands @bucksbignaturals @aringofsalt

@firewasabeast @firehose118 @ohithankyou @kinardsevan @queerdiaz

@beefcakekinard @lengthofropes @smallandalmosthonest 

[watchyourbuck]

hey~ no10 from the prompt list, if you feel like it~ 💛

Eddie knew Buck like the back of his hand.

No, that was an understatement. He knew him like his own heartbeat.

Every single look, or stance, or smile. Every single thought. Buck could bend over backwards trying to hide something from him, but he could only ever do it unsuccessfully. Eddie knew Buck. The real Buck.

So, truly, it shouldn’t have been such a shock.

“Who is he?”

Buck seemed taken aback, momentarily stunned by three simple words. “E-excuse me?”

“The guy,” Eddie continued, his body on automatic and his thoughts far. “The one leaving hickeys on your neck. Who is he?”

The indifference of it all made the firehouse cold, sending a chill up and down Buck’s spine. His eyes turned to Eddie, who kept stacking supplies.

It’s not that he didn’t have an answer. A name, more accurately. But still, how did he know?

Silence invaded their space, like a drama scene from a movie where the backgrounds blurs. It was uncomfortable, a hollow little piece of dialogue he wasn’t aware he was assigned.

It must’ve been too long. Eddie’s arms went down, the pile of bandages forgotten, just mere inches away from his face. “Who is he, Buck?”

“No one,” he replied, much more centered this time.

The change in tone made Eddie purse his lips, suddenly aware of the fact that he was being pushed off. Buck didn’t wanna tell him.

He nodded, a minor scoff creeping up his throat. His mouth bent downwards. “No one you wanna tell me about.”

The implication was broad, and pointy. Buck was dating, or he wasn’t. He was in love, or he wasn’t. The only safe haven was that he was fucking. Eddie would put his hands to the fire on that one.

Ironic, innit?

“Could be a she,” Buck said, avoiding his stare.

“No, it couldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Because I’d mark you like that, too.

Eddie sighed, running his hands through his hair. The rest of the firehouse was running smoothly, completely oblivious to them, or their words. How could anyone not notice Eddie’s heart bleeding into its own?

“Forget it,” he mumbled, short of biting his tongue. There was a moment in time where the beggar had to stop begging; where the needy had to stop needing. It was time. Time to let him go.

Buck’s reached for Eddie’s shoulder, stopping him in place. He added no pressure, so if the man wanted to bail, he could. “You don’t get to do that, Eddie.”

This time, the scoff did come out. Angry and bitter, and all the bad feelings you’re supposed to swallow. “Do what, exactly?”

“Run away.”

“What?”

“He’s no one,” he said rashly, running his tongue over his front teeth. “He can be no one.”

It was tough to follow. Buck’s eyes gave away his feelings, but not the meaning of his words. Eddie frowned, taking a step closer. Buck’s hand fell to the side, brushing along the skin on Eddie’s wrist. “What do you mean?”

Buck blinked, his breathing heavy. It was now or never. He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

Sharp. Fast. Telling.

“If you want me, he can be no one.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Please take this as my Fuck It Friday!

tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie @eddiebabygirldiaz & @eowon thank you so much! College’s beating my ass rn but it’ll get to your works shortly!✨💗

tagging in return @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @malewifediaz @housewifebuck @bucksbirthmark @your-catfish-friend @butraura @cowboy-eddie @buckleyobsessed @disasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @evanbegins @jamespearce9-1-1 @smilingbuckley & @wildlife4life 💗

[queerv1nyl]

the weight of words

The late afternoon sun hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement outside Eddie’s house. The light filtered through the living room windows in golden slants, warming the space with a glow that was at odds with the quiet tension that hummed beneath the surface. It had been one of those long, grueling shifts at the station—the kind that left Buck's muscles sore and his mind buzzing with the residue of adrenaline. He had come over to Eddie's to unwind, as he often did, but tonight felt different.

Buck sat on the couch, shoulders tight, fingers tapping restlessly against his thighs. Eddie, standing a few feet away, watched him with that steady gaze of his—the one that made Buck feel like he was both being assessed and understood all at once.

“You did good today,” Eddie said, his voice calm, grounding.

Buck’s fingers froze mid-tap. The compliment, simple as it was, struck him harder than he’d expected. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Yeah?” Buck’s voice came out rougher than intended, and he glanced up at Eddie, unsure of what he was searching for. Approval, maybe. Reassurance. Something that settled the restless energy swirling inside him.

Eddie’s lips twitched in a small smile, like he knew exactly what was going on in Buck’s head. “You did,” he affirmed, moving to sit down beside Buck. Their thighs brushed, the contact sending a shiver through Buck that he didn’t bother to hide. “You’re always pushing yourself. But today… today was something else. You saved that kid, Buck. You went above and beyond.”

Buck’s chest tightened at the praise. He wasn’t used to hearing it—not in the way that Eddie said it, with such sincerity, such admiration. Buck had always been the guy who needed to prove himself, to push harder, to be better. But when Eddie said it like that, it felt like maybe, for once, he had done enough.

He shifted on the couch, heat crawling up the back of his neck. “It wasn’t… I just did what anyone would’ve done.”

Eddie shook his head, his smile softening into something more intimate. “No, Buck. Not everyone would’ve done that. Not everyone has what you have.”

There it was again—Eddie’s words sinking deep, reaching places inside Buck that felt raw and exposed. He had never really understood why compliments hit him so hard, why they left him feeling both vulnerable and seen in a way that was almost too much to handle. But with Eddie, it felt… good. More than good. It felt like being wrapped in something warm, something safe.

Buck’s breath hitched, and he glanced sideways at Eddie, the intensity between them growing thicker with each passing second. Eddie’s hand moved, fingers brushing lightly against Buck’s knee, and the contact was like a spark. A low hum of want thrummed through Buck’s body, and he bit his lip, trying to suppress the shiver that threatened to roll through him.

Eddie’s eyes darkened, just a little, as if he could sense the shift. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “You like hearing that, don’t you?”

The question sent a jolt through Buck. His gaze snapped to Eddie’s, wide-eyed and startled. He opened his mouth to deny it, to brush it off, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself nodding—just barely, just enough for Eddie to catch it.

Eddie’s smile widened, slow and knowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, his hand squeezing Buck’s knee. “I thought so.”

The air between them crackled, the weight of Eddie’s words settling over Buck like a blanket. Buck’s pulse quickened, his skin buzzing with a need he could barely contain. Eddie had always known him, seen him in ways no one else had. But this—this was different. This was Eddie knowing exactly how to unravel him, how to slip beneath his defenses and touch something deeper.

Buck’s voice was shaky when he spoke. “Eddie, I…”

Eddie leaned in, close enough that Buck could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. “You’re incredible, Buck,” he whispered, his hand sliding higher up Buck’s thigh, slow and deliberate. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. You never did.”

Buck’s heart was pounding now, the praise washing over him like a wave, pulling him under. He felt lightheaded, dizzy with it, with the way Eddie’s words seeped into his bones, leaving him aching and wanting.

“I—” Buck started, but Eddie’s fingers pressed gently against his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” Eddie murmured, his eyes burning into Buck’s. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me take care of you.”

Buck’s breath caught in his throat, and he nodded again, his body surrendering to the gentle command. Eddie’s hand moved to cup the side of Buck’s face, his thumb brushing over his cheek in a way that made Buck’s stomach flip. The tenderness in Eddie’s touch was almost overwhelming, the praise still ringing in Buck’s ears, filling the spaces inside him that had been hollow for so long.

“You’re so good, Buck,” Eddie whispered, his lips ghosting over the corner of Buck’s mouth. “So good for me.”

Buck couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that escaped him, his body arching toward Eddie, desperate for more. The way Eddie spoke to him, the way he touched him—it was everything Buck had been craving, everything he hadn’t realized he needed until this moment.

Eddie’s lips finally pressed against his, slow and deliberate, a kiss that was as much a promise as it was a possession. Buck melted into it, his hands clutching at Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer, deeper, until the world outside them ceased to exist.

And in that moment, with Eddie’s praise still echoing in his mind, Buck felt whole. He felt seen. He felt loved.

[some-little-infamy]

but what if he does

(Read on AO3)

“Whatever it is you’re feeling, you don’t have to hide it.”

Buck knows that Maddie cares and that he can trust her with anything and she won’t judge him for a second. That’s never really been his hang-up when it comes to being honest with his sister, though. Honestly, Buck probably would’ve told Maddie the truth - or at least more of the truth - if she didn’t have so much going on in her own life since she got here. Maddie’s the only person he fully trusts… well, maybe not the only person anymore, but isn’t that the real problem here?

“When I wake up, uh, and I mean like every single time, I have this checklist now that I run in my head, like a way to test that I'm really here,” Buck says. Maddie looks like she’s about to say something so Buck rushes to continue before he loses his nerve. “But only when I’m at my place. I went over to Eddie’s because it’s the only place I can sleep. It’s the only place I don’t have to go through a checklist to know this life is real.”

“You went to Eddie’s,” Maddie realizes, putting two and two together. “Of course.”

“What do you mean of course?”

“I mean, Evan, that I don’t think it’s Eddie’s place that allows you those comforts,” Maddie says, emphasizing her point in no uncertain terms. “It’s Eddie.”

Buck doesn’t know why her words rattle him as much as they do - it was the point he was trying to make, in his roundabout way. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s not as good at hiding it as he thought, or maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t the only one who thinks it. If Maddie can see it, if it makes sense to her, then what are the chances Eddie sees it, too?

What are the chances that it, that Buck, might make sense to Eddie?

“Yeah,” Buck admits. “It’s Eddie.”

Maddie beams, but her smile fades almost as quickly as it arrived. “Then why do you look like someone just kicked your favorite puppy?”

“Because, Maddie. What if… what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“But what if he does?” Maddie counters.

It isn’t that simple. It can’t be that simple.

“Both of you have died, or nearly died, one too many times to waste another day not knowing. But for what it’s worth, I think he feels the same,” Maddie says.

“How could you possibly know that?” Buck asks, eyebrow raised. “He hasn’t, uh, said anything to you, has he?”

“No,” Maddie admits. “But, as a parent, I can tell you that I wouldn’t give anyone the guardianship of my kid after I die unless I loved and trusted that person with my entire heart and soul.”

Buck hates how much sense Maddie is making. He realizes that part of him expected her to call him crazy and tell him that he’s just overreacting to his near-death experience, or reading too much into things, or that of course he feels comfortable at his best friend’s place.

It feels too real when she agrees with him that yeah, okay, maybe he’s in love… and maybe it’s a love that’s returned.

Buck’s heart feels like it’s racing a thousand beats a minute at the prospect of telling Eddie how he feels.

“Are you alright? You’re not about to pass out on me, are you?” Maddie asks, tone full of concern as she eyes him cautiously.

“I’m fine,” Buck says, standing abruptly. “Or as fine as I can be considering I’m either about to get myself a boyfriend or lose the best friend I ever had.”

Maddie sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “I really am.”

“I’m proud of you,” Maddie says with a smile.

“For what?”

“For taking care of yourself,” Maddie all but beams. “Eddie makes you feel safe and happy. I think you’ve denied yourself both of those things long enough.”

“Thanks,” Buck says, heading for the door.

“You can thank me in your wedding vows!” Maddie calls after him.

Buck thinks he just might.

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

okay listen, I saw the onesie and this fic fell out of me.

IT’S NOT MINE

“I’m getting Chris, then we’ll head over to yours for Tuesday night pasta and video games, ‘kay, Buck?” Eddie yelled over his shoulder as he adjusted the grip on his duffle and headed to the car. 

“Uh, wait--” Buck came running after him, hair still wet, t-shirt only halfway over his torso. “Uh, right now isn’t a good time for my apartment, it’s a little... a bit messy.”

Eddie snorted. “Like we haven’t seen it messy before? Honestly, I think Chris is going to care more that you still don’t have a couch.” 

Buck squirmed suddenly, startling as the motion reminded him that his shirt was only half on. “Ah, yeah, it’s just--” his hand got tangled in the neck hole, wiggling pointlessly for the dangling empty sleeve. Eddie chuckled and dropped his bag, reaching out to help.

“It’s okay, Buck. We’ll help you straighten up,” he firmly pulled Buck’s hand out his collar and reached into Buck’s shirt to feed it into the errant sleeve, “And then we can all do dinner, okay?”

“...Can we do it at yours?” Buck wasn’t looking at him. That was never good.

Eddie tilted his head, grin teasing. “What, you got something hiding in your place I should know about?” Buck’s flinch told him that yes, maybe he did.

Buck’s high, choked-out, weak chuckle confirmed it. “Nah, Eddie, I don’t have any good hiding places, the loft is totally open plan, I couldn’t...” He was definitely avoiding eye contact now. “Anyway, like you said, I don’t even have a couch, your place is better.” His eyes finally turned to Eddie, wide and blue and begging. Please stop asking.

Eddie nodded. “Okay.” For now.

***

“You shouldn't have let me have that third beer, Eddie,” Buck mumbled as the car rolled up to his building. 

“I trust you to know your own limits, Buck. Besides, you looked like you needed to forget your troubles a little.” Eddie shut off the car and turned his attention to Buck. The whole night Buck had been distracted, checking his phone. At one point, Chris had caught a glance over Buck’s shoulder, saying “Wow, Buck, that’s a big Amazon order!” And Buck had flinched and quickly turned back to the TV, reaching for more beer. By the time the night had rolled to a close, and Chris put to bed, Buck wasn’t safe to drive.

“Me?” Buck jerked his head side to side. “I’ve got no troubles, I’ve got nothing, I’m--me? I’m good, Eddie.” He stopped suddenly looking nauseous from the excessive movement.

Eddie sighed fondly. “Well, then, let’s get you out of the car and up to your place then, Mr. No Troubles.” Eddie pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and came round to Buck’s side, opening the door and holding out a hand. “Come on.”

“I’m good.” Buck shook his head, gingerly this time. “You don’t need to walk me up.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Buck. C’mon, I promise not to enter your super secret apartment, just let me get you up there.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Eddie. “You promise?”

Eddie chuckled. “I promise.” This time, Buck took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the car.

*** 

Getting up the elevator to Buck’s place didn’t take much effort in the end. Buck was tipsy, sure, but hardly stumbling drunk and only had to lean on Eddie’s arm once or twice. The challenge would be getting Buck through his front door, which was barricaded on all sides with Amazon and UPS boxes.

“Damn, Chris wasn’t kidding about you buying out Amazon, Buck, what gives?” Eddie knelt down to inspect the pile, squinting to read the labels on the packages.

“Don’t look!” Buck’s hand tugged on Eddie’s collar, his tone panicked. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

“I said I wouldn’t look in your apartment, Buck, this is still outsi...” Eddie’s voice trailed off as his eyes took in the names on the labels. 

Baby Barn. For Evan Buckley

Toddler Emporium. For Evan Buckley.

Parent One-Stop-Shop... Babies R US... Rockabye-Babeez... For Evan Buckley.

“Buck,” he breathed.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Buck was pulling at Eddie’s shirt hard now, stretching out the collar. 

Eddie stood and turned to face him. “Then what is it, Buck? Tell me what I’m looking at.”

Buck just looked at him, blank, lost for words, panicked. And sad, so incredibly sad.

Eddie sighed. What could he say to this Buck? This Buck who so determinedly stayed positive whenever the subject of the sperm donation came up? ‘Hey, no I’m so happy for them!’ spoken right after ‘I’m gonna be a dad!’ 

Buck wasn’t going to be a dad. This new child would be connected to Buck genetically. And that was where the connection would end.

In Buck’s eyes, Eddie saw all of that.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s go inside.”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’m okay, I just got a little overexcited, bought some stuff--”

“Buck? Give me your keys, or I’m fishing for them myself.”

Wordlessly, eyes defeated, Buck reached into his back pocket and handed them over.

Eddie couldn’t even get the door open all the way for packages. They were stacked against the wall, piled on the kitchen island. Some were open, their colorful contents laid lovingly into baskets or lined up on the floor.

“I was on Amazon a few days ago, and I just… got carried away.”

“Carried away,” Eddie echoed. This was not carried away, wasn’t here are a few things to pad out your supplies. Buck had purchased everything a new baby would ever need, from diapers and wipes to bottles, pacifiers, swaddles… 

Buck was shopping like an expectant father.

“What was your plan for all this?”

A pause. “They don’t need to know it’s from me?”

“Buck,” Eddie held up an LAFD baby onesie in his hands, eyes unreadable in a way that made Buck want to squirm. “They’re going to know it’s from you.” He sighed and laid the onesie back down, folding it back on top of another onesie decorated for Christmas. “I don’t think they’ll be… No, they definitely won’t--” he stopped himself again. How to say this?? And it’s not like Buck didn’t already know this, so why…? “Buck, are you--”

“Don’t say it.” Watery, shaky. Eddie turned. Buck looked at him, stripped open and raw, surrounded by the physical evidence of his not fine with it anymore laid out in this vibrant collection of love and pain on every available surface of his home. 

Eddie looked and saw in each toy the home Buck would build if only he had someone to build it for. Saw the pain in Buck, the self-doubt and deprecation. I was born for parts. The only piece of me that’s been deemed worthy to build a family is a part, not the whole, not me. 

A child will be born soon, and I am empty about it. I am filling the empty with all the things I would shower my child with if I could. My child is being born and I can’t even call it my own.

Eddie opened his arms and Buck walked into them. At first, he just leaned heavily against Eddie, face buried in the juncture between neck and shoulder. Then he started to shake, just his chest, then his arms, then his whole body. Eddie tightened his arms, and Buck let out a wail, a loud and broken thing and held on for dear life, sobbing. 

“It’s not mine, Eddie! It’s not mine! I was fine with that, I was, I was so happy to help, so happy that someone thought highly of me like that, wanted me, chose me! I’m so stupid!”

Eddie’s hand lifted to the top of Buck’s head and rested there, combing through the curls. “No, Buck. No, you’re not stupid.”

“It’s mine, Eddie. It’s mine. That kid is a piece of me, and I don’t get anything back. I’m so selfish, Eddie. God, I’m the worst.”

“Buck, stop.” Eddie carefully guided them both down so they were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the pastel carnage of Buck’s dreams. Buck leaned heavier into him, almost in his lap. “Stop judging, stop calling yourself names. Just cry it out, okay?”

Buck did. Tears flowed anew, soaking into Eddie’s shoulder and Buck curled closer and closer until those long legs were wrapped around Eddie’s waist, arms holding on for dear life as Buck finally let himself feel the pain and regret he’d been hiding behind cheerful comments, big smiles, and shopping. He cried until there was nothing left but gasps and hiccups, and through it all Eddie held him, rocked him back and forth in his arms until he had quieted.

“Sorry,” Buck whispered, nasal and horse. “Your shirt…”

“If you’re sorry for anything, let it be that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about this sooner, Buck.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t even really letting myself…” A sniff. “I just want--I don’t know what to do, Eddie.  I don’t know how I’m going to live with this.”

Eddie breathed deeply, fingers still combing through Buck’s hair, thinking. “I don’t either, Buck.” He sighed. “But I do know that you need some sleep. And then we’re going to go through all of this and make some returns at the post office.”

Buck made a noise of protest.

“No, Buck, I don’t know what will be good for you, but I know sure as hell that this isn’t it.” Eddie grasped the nape of Buck’s neck and pulled until Buck’s head was off his shoulder. He glanced down, waiting until Buck met his eyes. His were watery and red, lashes all clumped together, his cheeks swollen. “You can’t torture yourself like this, okay? It’s going to take you somewhere bad, and I can’t watch you go there, okay? So tomorrow I’m going to help you wrap this all up, and you can choose one thing to keep, because you’re going to be a dad, Buck, even if it isn’t the kind of dad you dream of being.”

Buck didn’t respond, but he didn’t protest. Fresh tears flowed from his eyes as he looked at Eddie, and Eddie made himself maintain eye contact, even though seeing this fresh pain made him want to run laps around the apartment building, destroy every item in this room until it looked as bruised and damaged as Buck’s heart.

“For now though, you need sleep. And you’re coming back to mine to get it.”

Buck started to shake his head again. “I couldn’t--”

“You can, Buck.”

“But Chris--”

“Is a big boy and can handle you not being at your best around him.” Eddie huffed. “He’d probably be mad if you tried to hide it from him, deprive him of extra hugs, hm?”

Buck gave the barest inch of a smile. “Okay.”

Eddie stood up, then reached down a hand to pull Buck to his feet. “Come one.” Buck rose heavily and made for the door, reaching for his keys that had been discarded in the mess around them.

They reached the door when Eddie stopped. “Buck?”

“Mm?”

Eddie reached out and grasped Buck’s shoulder, turning him gently and looking into his eyes. “He may not be your genetic material, but Christopher thinks the world of you. Not because you’re strong, or because you take him out on trips, or for any one thing, Buck. But because you’re all of those things and more--you’re smart, funny, kind, fun,” Eddie cupped Buck’s cheek in his hand, “Beautiful, even when you’re all puffed up from crying.” Buck’s eyes darted away but Eddie wasn’t finished yet. “You’re an amazing man, Buck. That’s what your roommate saw and what made him ask you to be a piece of this child.”

“I shouldn’t have said yes.” Buck whispered.

“No. But it’s a reflection of your kindness that you did.”

“I’d never been chosen before, not like that.”

Eddie huffed. “That kind of choosing is only the tip of the iceberg, Buck.” He turned Buck around and reached for the door. “Let’s go.”

***

Later that night, after Buck had finally sunken into sleep, Eddie sat by the couch and watched. He’d insisted that Buck blow his nose and wash his face before sleeping, so he wouldn’t wake up congested and puffed up any more than he had to be. Now, he lay there, vulnerable in his sleep, curled up on his side in Eddie’s shorts and t-shirt.

Eddie couldn’t sleep. He ached, his heart raw. It always had been tender where Buck was concerned, and Eddie often found himself surprised and forced to see new angles and facets of Buck every time he thought he’d seen all there was to see. But seeing Buck standing in the loft, heart bleeding on the outside had done it all over again. The tender spot in Eddie’s heart had been blown wide open, and he suddenly found himself hating Buck’s former roommate, for seeing what he had steadfastly pushed away, be it from fear or confusion. It was all clear now, watching Buck’s chest slowly rise and fall.

Chris is right, our Buck does snore.

He reached out and ran a hand down the side of Buck’s face, where stubble was beginning to grow in. “Tomorrow, okay? We’ll show you what it means to be chosen, Buck.”

[kitkatpancakestack]

Hi K! For the 101 ways to say I love you prompt: 8 or 86 if either of those interest you! Please and thank you 💜💜

For reference:

8: come here, I’ll carry you.

86: I love waking up next to you.

Alex please respectfully look away from how long ago this ask was sent *hides face*

This prompt takes place in the Breathe universe so it might not make sense if you haven't read that, but tl;dr Eddie moves to a small beach town to deal with his PTSD and meets Buck who is a bartending surf instructor. The rest of the firefam works at a beachfront restaurant. I think that's all you need to know <3

8: come here, I'll carry you

Eddie bites back a groan when he hears the soft snickering approaching from behind.

 “Man,” Buck says, his shadow falling over Eddie’s body. “You weren’t kidding, buddy.”

A second, shorter shadow joins. “It looks bad,” Chris murmurs. “Dad, does it hurt?”

“It’s fine,” Eddie mutters, but when he tries to move his ankle, it flares up in pain. Go figure. He would be the one to find the lone bucket hidden in the sand and roll his ankle. Naturally. Because that is just his life. 

Buck walks into view, crouching by his foot, prodding the bruised area. “How bad is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Dude. Seriously. Do you think you can walk? Bobby made kabobs.”

Eddie pushes himself up onto his elbows, meeting the gleeful crinkle in Buck’s eyes. His dark, golden curls are windswept and speckled with sand. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His eyes flicker to Christopher behind Eddie. “Hey, buddy, I’m gonna take care of your dad, and I’ll meet you back at Waves, okay? Make sure Chimney doesn’t eat all the kabobs before we get there.”

Eddie listens to the soft give of the sand as his son departs.

“Bobby has a first-aid kit in the back,” Buck says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he returns his attention to Eddie’s ankle. “We can wrap it up.”

“It’s not broken. Trust me, I know what that feels like.” Eddie rises all the way up to a sitting position. “Just a bad sprain.”

“Either way, you’re not walking on it.” And then all Eddie gets in warning is a devilish smirk across Buck’s face before he says, “Come here, I’ll carry you,” and then he’s being hefted over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry.

“Buck!” Eddie squawks, and he can safely say it is a sound he has never made before in his life. “Put me down! I’m too heavy!”

“Stop wriggling around!”

“You’re going to drop me.”

“Yeah, if you keep wriggling around.”

He tries his best, fighting against the warmth spreading over his cheeks and the dull ache pulsing through his lower leg. Despite Buck’s inordinate fixation with arm day at the gym, Eddie isn’t exactly light, and one wrong step in the sand offsets the weight balance, and they both go teetering to the ground.

Eddie sighs, staring up at the deep blue of the sky. “That’s exactly what I said would happen.”

Buck scoots over in the sand until he’s half on top of Eddie. “Nobody likes a know-it-all.”

“I am not a know-it-all.” He pauses. “I’m just usually right.”

He receives an eye roll in response. “You want some help up, gimpy?”

“In a second. You go eat some kabobs. Not like I’m going anywhere.”

Buck huffs a laugh, but he doesn’t leave, settling down against Eddie’s side and pressing the sides of their heads together. “This was worse than that one time we went out surfing and you chipped a tooth on your surfboard.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. You have an unexpected proclivity for clumsiness.”

“Proclivity. You are so annoying.”

“You’re the one who got me that Word of The Day Calendar, so that’s on you.” His face comes into view again, blotting out the sun. “If Chimney’s eaten all the kabobs, you owe me.”

“Yeah? Owe you what?”

Buck’s gaze darkens.

“I’m crippled, Buck.”

“I’m surprisingly ingenuitive.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Maybe so.” He kisses the underside of Eddie’s cheek, and then hauls the both of them to their feet, looping one of Eddie’s arms around his shoulders to act as a crutch. “Guess I’ll have to stay over for a while, nurse you back to health.”

“You are enjoying this way too much.”

Buck stops suddenly, meaning they both stop. He watches everybody at Waves gathering around the outside bar as Bobby grills kabobs, a soft smile pressing a dimple into his cheek, and then he turns to look at Eddie. “Hey.”

Eddie lifts an eyebrow.

“Thanks for making a life with me here.”

The statement is unexpected and leaves Eddie stuttering. The sentimentality is gone as soon as it appears, because Buck releases a sharp laugh and then drops Eddie right on his ass and runs the rest of the way to Waves, hollering about jousting Chimney for the last kabob.

It’s absolutely ridiculous.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[beyourownanchor6]

knowing I’m safe ‘cause you want me

inspired by this lovely story by @hotcinnamonsunset and the song hot tea by half alive which is such a buddie song and i demand you all listen to it 💙

rated s for soft | 2k words

It was late, late enough that Buck should be at home, tucked into bed, not wandering the streets aimlessly.

  It’s what he always did when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence was so loud, his endless thoughts buzzing from one to the next. He always ended up at the same place, tonight not any different.

Trudging his warn sneakers up the wooded stairs, Buck turned and slid to the ground, propping himself up on the wall just next to the door. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up over his head, blocking the cool night air, hiding his face from those he didn’t want to see, or rather, hiding himself off from the world.

  Glancing at his phone, he pulled in his bottom lip, sighing when there were no new notifications; not from the person he wanted them to be from at least. It wasn’t long before the door next to him was opening, the screen squeaking as it was pushed open.

“Buck? Está todo bien?”

Buck looked up to Abuela through squinting eyes, the light from the inside harsh compared to the one he’d gotten used to over the last several hours. “Editto isn’t home yet.”

The woman made a tsking noise, muttering some other Spanish Buck couldn’t quite decipher; she clearly thought Eddie should’ve been home by now; the two of them always seemed to be getting in trouble for missing curfew. Ooops.

“I know-I uh—can I wait for him?”

“Of course mi amor. Come. Let’s get you inside.”

Buck shook his head, content where he was.

  Abuela was stubborn, nagging him for the next several minutes, though Buck stayed as he was; the house always felt empty without Eddie inside, no matter how warm and comforting Abuela was.

Seeming to give up, Abuela retreated into the house, leaving Buck as he was. He glanced to his phone again, midnight fast approaching, no messages from Eddie in sight.

Eddie was out celebrating with his team, most likely having the time of his life while Buck sat there on the cold floor, miserable. Of course, Eddie had invited him along, though Margret and Philip had shattered all his plans per usual; he couldn’t wait until he was eighteen and could get as far away from them as possible.

He used to go to Maddie in these situations, but she was off somewhere with Doug now, the man answering her phone more times than not. Buck didn’t understand, but there really wasn’t much he could do about it; he always felt helpless—useless.

  The door squeaked open again, Abuela bending to hand him a steaming cup full of liquid, along with a soft blue blanket, one he recognized instantly. He thanked her shyly, Abuela trying once again to get him to come inside.

  “There’s always room for you here cariño.”

Abuela bent to press a kiss over his hoodie, squeezing his arm reassuringly, before moving back inside. Buck shivered, though not from the chill in the air. He’d never met any of his grandparents, didn’t even know if they existed to be completely honest. There was never any mention of family; he was hardly allowed to have any friends in his life, his parents seemingly embarrassed for Buck to meet anyone outside of Maddie and the two of them.

He didn’t know what it would be like to have grandparents, though if he could choose one for himself, it would definitely be Isabel. The woman was such a ray of sunshine, doting on Eddie as if her grandson were her whole world. She knew how to be stern, though with the touch of love that made you know everything was gonna be ok.

Buck had spent many days here, always needing an escape, Abuela never questioning his presence, just loving him as if he were her own.

  Reaching for the blanket, Buck rubbed the fabric between his fingers, the soft fibers brushing over him. He wrapped it around himself, the blanket enveloping him in Eddie’s scent. Buck had all but claimed the blanket as his own, Eddie always giving it to him with ease, even wrapping it around him from time to time. He tried to picture it now, the first time Eddie had done so.

They’d been playing video games late into the night, the tv quiet enough that they wouldn’t disturb Abuela’s slumber. They were sat on the couch, too much distance between them for Bucks’ liking, though at the same time, too close for them to be just friends.

  Buck had visibly shivered and pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands, Eddie’s questioning giving him his desired effect. “You cold?” He’d nodded his head, hoping that maybe Eddie would move closer, though Buck had frowned when Eddie hauled himself up off the couch and down the hallway. When Eddie returned, he had the softest blanket Buck had ever felt, wrapping it around him snuggly, almost as if he were tucking him in. Eddie’s fingers had lingered on either side of Buck, hovering over him with those warm eyes of his. Buck remembered the moment their eyes locked, nothing else mattering but the two of them, lost on the other.

He pretended it was Eddie wrapped around him now, reaching out to grab the mug of cocoa between his hands. The chocolate and cinnamon flavors were a delight, the liquid warming him, cutting off some of the chill. While Abuela and Eddie both preferred tea, they knew Buck was a sucker for chocolate, the two of them keeping a special tub of cocoa powder around just for him. As the liquid ran down his throat, thoughts of warm summer days mixed with Eddie lulled him into a trance, Buck closing his eyes as he let them take over. It wasn’t until a hand was tugging at his foot that Buck realized he’d fallen asleep, tender brown eyes meeting him.

“It’s late.”

Buck could only nod, looking down to his phone to see the time read midnight, one missed text from Eddie. His heart beat a little faster.

  Eddie ducked his head to look at Buck head on, his intense gaze nearly piercing right through Buck.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Buck shook his head, not needing to explain further. That was the great thing about being in love with your best friend—Eddie already knew everything about him…everything except for the being in love with him part.

  Eddie reached for the hot cocoa then, taking back a healthy sip before placing it back onto the porch. His nose wrinkled a tinge for the chocolate taste, Buck smiling up to him.

  “Why’re you out here?” Eddie motioned to the cup of cocoa, tapping his finger over Buck’s shoulder where the blanket laid. “I see Abuela didn’t leave you to freeze.”

Buck couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips, knowing the woman loved him so.

“Because you’re out here.”

And again, Eddie didn’t need him to spell it out, reading his unsaid words. Eddie sat opposite him, leaning up against the pillar, letting their worn sneakers press together, Buck wishing there were less barriers between them.

“Did uh, did you have fun tonight?”

Eddie shrugged.

“Not as much fun as I would’ve with you.”

“I miss you.”

The words were out before Buck could stop them, his eyes instantly drifting away from Eddie.

Eddie kicked at his foot until he gained Buck’s attention, brown holding blue.

“I missed you too.”

  They didn’t say anything for the longest time, Buck shivering involuntarily; he wasn’t sure if it was from the uptick of wind, or the burning gaze of Eddie—maybe a little bit of both.

  “You cold?”

They were the same words Eddie had whispered that first time, Buck unable to respond with anything but a simple nod. He expected Eddie to pull him up, drag him into the house and deposit him on the couch before making his way to his room, though Eddie had other ideas.

“C’mere.”

Buck was all but frozen in place. Eddie couldn’t be asking—could he?

Eddie reached out to tug at Buck’s shoe, all but dragging him forward. When they were close enough, Eddie reached a hand up, pushing Buck’s hood back as he took him in. Buck tried not to fidget, though it was impossible for him to stay still in this moment. How could he, when Eddie was looking at him like that, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Eddie’s fingers slid forward, brushing through the curls at the top of his head, Buck’s eyes closing as he leaned into the touch. His touch was gentle, careful even, like Buck might pull away at any moment. Buck pressed closer into Eddie’s space, stopping when he felt Eddie’s warm breath ghosting over his face.

“Buck?”

“Y-yea?”

“Sorry I was late.”

Buck looked up then, sad when the movement caused Eddie’s hands to slip from his head.

  “You’re here now.”

Eddie nodded, looking Buck over intently.

“Mmhmm.”

Buck couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe.

Eddie’s gaze was piercing, like he was looking at Buck for the first time, maybe the last; Buck hoped it was something between.

Without a word, Eddie stood, reaching for Buck’s hand, pulling them up together. The blanket slipped from Buck’s shoulders, Buck bending to reach for it, Eddie meeting him at the same time, their fingertips brushing together softly. They were close, closer than they’d ever been, something deep inside Buck stirring. Eddie used their slight hold to pull Buck in even closer, their foreheads just grazing together.

“Ev?”

“Yea Eds?”

Eddie’s voice was breathless, laced with an uncertainty Buck had never heard before.

  “You’re gonna have to tell me no.”

Buck couldn’t find the words, so he found Eddie’s lips instead, brushing them together ever so slightly. He dragged his lips across Eddie’s, committing them to memory as he went. When Buck finally applied pressure, it was featherlight, the kiss delicate and nearing on fragile. Eddie matched his pace, though it was as if he was afraid he would break Buck, like he would shatter them to pieces with anything more forceful; Buck couldn’t have that, not with Eddie. He crashed their lips together, sipping Eddie in through his front teeth, the sweetest sip he’d ever tasted.

Their kisses felt almost desperate as they fell closer together, each of them seeking out the other in ways they’d wanted for so long, but never allowed themselves to.

Buck couldn’t tell you how long they sat on the porch together, Buck hovering just over Eddie’s lap, the two looking into each other endlessly. Any chill to the air had been stifled, Buck never feeling more warmed in his life.

  When Buck yawned, Eddie chuckled into him, his arms coming around him. Without warning, Eddie hoisted Buck up in his arms, dragging the blanket along with them as he walked them into the house, moving right past the couch; those weight training classed Eddie had been taking were really paying off—you wouldn’t find Buck complaining.

Eddie placed Buck onto the bed gently, never taking his eyes off him, almost as if he thought Buck would disappear; there was nowhere else Buck would rather be.

  It was Buck who reached out to Eddie this time, tugging him forward until his knees hit the bed, fitting right between Buck’s. Eddie’s hands took their before place in his curls, brushing through them gently. Buck hummed contently, letting Eddie push him further back until they were both lying on their sides, facing one another.

  Buck thought that he could stare into Eddie forever, though sleep eventually began to take him over, his head pressing closer to Eddie. He tucked his head into the curve of Eddie’s neck, inhaling his favorite scent, the one that made him feel safe, loved, protected. Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie, the two of them falling impossibly closer. The last thing he remembered was Eddie’s lips placing a chaste kiss over his head, fingers carding through his curls once more.

If Abuela found them in each other’s arms the next morning, heart swooning just a little, she didn’t say anything, though for the talk she had with them later, they both learned to be a little sneakier, stealing touches and lingering looks whenever they could.

  In Eddie’s arms, Buck always felt safe, knowing that he was wanted, loved. He’d only gotten that from one other person, and she wasn’t there right now, though Buck knew his big sister was always watching over him. For now, he had Eddie, and that was enough. They would always hold on to each other.

this is longer than my usual drabbles but im too lazy to put this on ao3 right now, so im tagging the usuals 💕 just let me know if you want to be added or removed: @buddiextarlos @swiftiediaz @mansikkaomenabanaani @confetti-cupcake @chimneymisteraprilhan @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @lvpinspadfoot @justsmilestuffhappens @loveyourownsmiilee @prettyboyandthekid @honestlydarkprincess @love-buddie @bifirefighters

[fruitydiaz-archived]

safe (with you)

s5 speculation based on the new bts because idk how to be normal about this

3,049 words

AO3 link

By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway Buck’s hands still haven’t stopped shaking.

He vividly remembers that day he spent driving around Los Angeles with Abby, searching for her mom, the day they saved the little girl in the pool. He remembers the way he lined his hand up with hers and told her that the first couple of weeks on the job he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking with the adrenaline. But Abby was good at compartmentalizing; her hands never shook.

Buck still hasn’t learned how to do that with the people he cares about. He’s beginning to think he never will.

Eddie had been held hostage for under two hours and made it out unscathed, and yet Buck couldn’t get his fucking hands to stop shaking. He felt like a wire with the coating stripped off, ripped down the middle, frayed open, ready to spark and catch fire at any moment. But he’d been feeling like that a lot lately if he was being honest. Not that anyone asked.

And he didn’t expect anyone to because everyone else had their own problems and it was his job at the moment to just pull his shoulders back and keep it together. That was all he was supposed to do. He could do that.

“Uh, let me get your bag,” Buck mumbles as Eddie opens his side door to climb out. He switches the engine off and jumps out before he can see the glare Eddie shoots in his direction.

He still feels it anyway.

“I can get my own bag,” Eddie says, his tone flat. He feels too tired to argue but there’s an energy vibrating under his skin that he hasn’t been able to shake since they pulled up to the scene and he found himself staring down the barrel of someone else’s gun. It’s making him irritable and jumpy and all he wants to do is climb into bed and forget.

Buck doesn’t even grace him with a response, pulling both of their bags out of the back seat and slinging them over his shoulders, glancing once at Eddie before marching towards the front door.

“Nothing even happened to me, Buck,” Eddie calls after him, following on his heels. “I’m fine.”

Buck still doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his ring of keys and unlocks the front door. He slips off his shoes in the entryway and drops both of their bags by the couch. Eddie follows him into the kitchen.

“Buck - Buck, come on man you don’t have to take care of me I’m-“

“Stop telling me that you’re fine,” Buck growls suddenly, spinning around to face Eddie. “I am sick and tired of hearing it. You got shot, Eddie, okay? Five months ago you got shot and you started having panic attacks and you hid it from me.”

Eddie blinks at Buck for a second, shocked, before his brain kicks back on. Being around Buck is one of the easiest things for Eddie to do, but the moment Buck starts to care too much, when he starts to push - either with wide eyes full of nothing but love and care that make him want to crawl into himself and never come back out - or like this, with venom and anger that coat the underlying fear and worry, it becomes hard.

He defaults to anger. He wishes it wasn’t so easy but it’s the one thing he’s been prepared to do his whole life; fight.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was managing it on my own.”

“You’re my partner.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t about work,” Eddie stresses, feeling antsy. He turns away from Buck and takes a couple of steps around the corner. He needs to put some space between them. “It was personal, okay? And I dealt with it.”

“Right,” Buck said, voice dripping with the kind of bitterness that Eddie can feel creeping onto his own tongue. “Because you don’t panic anymore, right?”

Eddie’s eyes flick down. The familiar sensation of bile laced with the accusation of liar rises in his throat and he struggles to swallow it down. He still panics; he just didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I can handle it on my own,” Eddie says quietly.

“When are you going to realize that you don’t have to?” Buck pleads, leaning against the counter opposite Eddie. “When are you going to let me help you?”

“I don’t need help,” Eddie says, retreating back and looking anywhere but at Buck. God, he was just trapped at gunpoint for nearly two hours can he catch a fucking break? He feels like he can’t breathe.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.”

“Eddie, you got shot.” Buck is begging him to talk about it, screaming practically. And he’s been screaming for weeks, months, doing all but dropping to his knees in front of Eddie and begging him to open up and talk to him about it and Eddie gets it but ultimately. Ultimately.

Eddie wishes Buck would shut up.

You got shot, remember?

He wishes he could make him shut up. He wishes he could make Buck leave his apartment and get back into his jeep and drive to his own place and never fucking talk about any of this again. Because of course he remembers getting shot. He remembers all of it.

He remembers standing out in the middle of the street thinking about hopping into the ambulance with Charlie right before a bullet ripped through his one good shoulder. That’s four times now. He remembers hitting the hard cement and feeling the blood pool under his body, remembers the familiar sickly feeling that comes with the realization that you’re losing too much blood, before you start to lose your grip on the world around you. He remembers staring across the pavement at Buck and thinking it would be okay, because Buck was okay.

He remembers waking up in the hospital, drugged up and confused and searching for blue eyes and a blood-splattered face. He remembers waking up to Ana smiling down at him with watery eyes and he remembers the way she barely concealed her disappointment when he immediately asked for Buck - but he was passed caring at that point. He remembers the day he had to wait, slipping in and out of consciousness, Ana making occasional small talk, until he was finally cleared for more visitors, and Buck came rushing into the room like a vision of something holy, his face clean, his smile bright.

He remembers the moment Buck said he wished he had gotten shot instead and when Eddie slipped back into another drug-induced sleep the only words on his mind were no, not you. Never you.

He remembers sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with Buck, the distance between them too much and not enough at the same time. He remembers struggling to find the right words, fumbling to find his footing, feeling stripped bare as he told Buck that he loved him. But the words came out you act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong instead.

He remembers never feeling so cracked open and vulnerable in his entire life and it was terrifying. So he did what he does best and he retreated into the shadows and licked his wounds in private and put himself back together as best he could so that the next time someone saw him they didn’t look at him as if he were about to break.

And maybe it was a shit job and he still felt like he was barely held together by string most days but he was doing fine. He was back at work and Christopher was still happy even without Ana around and he was making it work.

So he didn’t give a damn if Buck thought he wasn’t doing enough. He didn’t want to relive the shooting again, he had moved on. He was fine.

He was fine.

Or at least, he was fine up until 7 hours ago when they got a call to an office building that turned into a goddamn hostage situation and Eddie spent the better part of an hour with a gun to his head.

He was fine.

He was fine.

“Eddie, Eddie,” Buck’s voice is loud and sudden in his ear and Eddie startles, staring up at him. He blinks a couple of times before he realizes that he’s on the floor and that Buck’s kneeling over him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck’s saying over and over again. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Fuck. Another panic attack.

Maybe he can’t pretend that he’s fine anymore.

“Buck,” Eddie says. Buck’s eyes fly to his and Eddie feels the bile rise again when he realizes Buck is crying.

This isn’t the first time tonight that Buck has cried. Over him.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Buck says again, his voice worn, and Eddie remembers him screaming. For him. “I just almost lost you again and I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Buck stares at him for a second, eyes wild, before he squeezes them shut and stretches his legs out in front of him, settling down on the floor across from Eddie.

It’s dark in Eddie’s apartment, the only light spilling in from the entryway, cloaking the two of them in warm dim light.

Eddie always found it easier being honest in the dark.

“I’m scared too,” He admits quietly. Buck’s eyes look too blue in the dark.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy. I just…I never wanted to make what happened about me…but I can see you struggling and it’s like - the only thing I know how to do is push. I can see it eating away at you.”

“I want to forget it ever happened,” Eddie says quickly, honestly.

Buck licks his lips. Nervous. “I get that. But…ignoring it doesn’t mean it never happened, you know?”

“It just…feels easier.”

“It’s killing you, Eddie.”

I was never meant to live this long anyway, is on the tip of Eddie’s tongue - but that’s too dark. Too much. Too honest. He shoves it back down.

One day something’s going to take him. Maybe it’ll be a bullet, maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll be the crushing guilt he’s carried ever since he was a kid, too young to learn what that kind of guilt felt like.

“At least Chris will be taken care of if it does,” He says before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that that’s something he shouldn’t say out loud. The pained look on Buck’s face feels like a slap in the face.

“What about you?” Buck grinds out, voice still hoarse. “Who the fuck is gonna take care of you - now?”

Eddie shrugs, “I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” Buck snaps. “Full offense but I’ve seen the way you care for yourself.”

“It’s what I do, Buck,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the cabinets and squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s - I can handle myself. I can’t…do this to anyone else. It was too much for Shannon - hell, even as a kid I was too much for my parents. I can’t.”

“Let me take care of you,” Buck says quickly and earnestly and the words shoot straight through Eddie’s heart. He couldn’t.

“No,” Eddie starts, sitting up straighter.

“Eddie, I can’t lose you,” Buck says with enough conviction to shut Eddie up for a second.

Because some part of Eddie has always been aware of the lengths to which Buck would crawl through fire and rain for him - because that’s who Buck is. Buck is the guy who puts everyone else before him, who will always put his life on the line first. Not because he wants to be the hero - but because he never thinks his own life is important enough to stop and consider the consequences.

Or at least, that’s what Eddie thought. But Eddie’s seen him hesitate more lately. He’s seen him pull back, actually listen to Bobby. And Eddie thought it was the will that was holding him back. And that was almost enough to soothe the constant ache in his chest.

But then Eddie got taken hostage. And it was like they were on that street again. And Eddie watched the fear strike Buck like a bolt of lightning, lighting him up from head to toe, nervous electricity in his veins. He saw the raw determination in his eyes, the devotion and instinct at war with responsibility and promise.

For a second, among the buzz at the base of his skull and the shrill ambiance of police cars, swat, and the ambulance, it hit Eddie. It wasn’t Buck being Buck. It was Eddie. It was Eddie that turned off every switch in Buck’s brain but his inherent instincts. It was Eddie in danger that broke him.

Eddie had never seen it before. And he’s been trying his damned best to shove it in the box labeled DO NOT TOUCH along with all of the other shit he’s been ignoring for the last five months.

It seems like it’s all coming out tonight.

Buck continues, “I don’t. I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t. Five months ago you sat with me in the hospital and - everyone always tells me that I’m reckless, you know? Or that I’m dumb or that I don’t think or that I want to be some hero. But you…you didn’t say any of that. And - and you made me feel like I was important. Like my life…was important. Is important. And I needed that, Eddie. So bad.

“Let me do the same thing for you,” Buck’s on the edge of begging again. “What do I have to do for you to realize that you’re important? That I need you? Because I do. God, Eddie, I need you…”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place. He’s never been loved like this before, has he?

Because that’s what this is. There’s no denying it anymore. That’s what Buck and Eddie do. They love each other. With some sort of deep-running unbreakable devotion that wraps around them constantly and pulls them closer and closer together.

That’s what Eddie’s been fighting all these months. The closeness.

Because it was easy before - to keep getting closer to Buck because it was safe, it meant they cared about each other, it meant that Buck would do his best to get Eddie home to his son and if all else failed Chris would have someone who loved him, who would look after him. That was good. That was safe.

But when the shooting happened and I have your back turned into I can’t live without you and Eddie realized that what he thought was a contingency plan that he had been slowly and methodically setting up was actually a living breathing family that they’d built - and all of a sudden the only way he ever wanted to live his life was with Buck and Christopher safely by his side - it wasn’t safe anymore. It was dangerous.

Eddie had been fighting so hard to keep Buck at arm's length so he could protect this system that he had come to rely on. Because now when he looked at Buck all he could see was the love and devotion reflecting back at Eddie. And that was terrifying.

Because Eddie had opened himself up to being loved before. And that ended in years of separation, divorce, and ultimately Shannon’s death. Maybe Eddie didn’t believe in signs - or maybe he just wanted to keep pretending the signs weren’t there. Because he was fairly certain that if the universe did send signs then Shannon’s death was the ultimate sign of them all, a symbol of what Eddie did to people.

He didn’t want to let Buck love him because he didn’t want to risk losing Buck.

But he is risking losing Buck the more he pushes him away…he’s risking breaking Buck. And ultimately he’s risking breaking himself. Because he can’t do this without Buck either.

“I need you too,” Eddie says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I’m just - I’m scared, Buck. I’m so scared.”

He’s crying. It’s like a dam broke loose with the quiet admittance and now it’s all coming out. He’s scared. He’s frightened. He’s terrified. He’s in love.

Buck’s crowding into his space, shoving himself up onto his knees between Eddie’s legs and crushing their bodies together, his long arms wrapping around Eddie and pulling him into his chest, tucking his head under Buck’s chin until he feels safe, protected, in Buck’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s hair. Just a couple of hours ago they were in this same position, on the grass outside the office building, just after Eddie was released and SWAT rolled in. Eddie thinks that the safest place on earth might be right here in Buck’s arms.

“I can’t lose you either,” Eddie croaks, hands clawing at Buck’s back. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Buck says with the stubborn confidence that’s inherent to Buck. And Eddie believes him, he does. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you, okay?”

“I need you.”

“You’ve got me. You always have, Eddie,” Buck whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

I love you is what he wants to say. He wants to say it every day; when Buck walks into the locker room and greets Eddie with a private smile like it’s not 6 am and he’d rather be anywhere else, when he bumps Eddie’s shoulder as they walk to the truck, when he pulls his helmet off after a tough call and holds eye contact with Eddie just long enough to communicate are you good?

Maybe he can’t say it just yet.

Maybe this isn’t the right time or place.

But he thinks Buck knows. And he thinks - no he knows, Buck feels the same.

Maybe one day they’ll get there.

But tonight it’s enough to just hold each other, to feel the solid, warm reminder that they’re alive.

It’s enough, for now, to just be together.

[extasiswings]

“i’ll keep you warm” eddie has a nightmare post-shooting 👀 (or however you wanna write it!)

This was not supposed to be this long...rated M-ish for some mild smut at the end. On ao3 here.

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. The icy numbness of shock curling down his spine, twisting through his veins like tendrils of frost creeping across a windowpane in winter. Cold, as his pulse skyrocketed, his body’s signals all crossed and confused and trying to circulate blood, not seeming to grasp the fact that his blood was seeping out onto the asphalt beneath him, that trying to circulate it faster was just making it worse. Cold, like he was a stupid kid at camp diving into a frigid lake before dawn, except above him was blue sky and a bright sun beating down and the fact that it was Los Angeles in May didn’t do a damn thing to help.

He couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the cold.

Buck, though—Buck, he felt. Buck’s hands burned, on his chest, his neck, his face, so warm that Eddie almost wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t. He was aware enough to realize that if Buck was warm, he was probably telling the truth when he said he wasn’t hurt. And that was good. That was all he needed to know.

The cold—

Eddie’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight.

This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. Trapped beneath ice, his hands slamming against it, eventually forced to inhale—water flooding his mouth, his throat, his lungs—cold, cold, cold—

Sometimes after he wakes he’ll spend hours shivering. Phantom chills that won’t go away even when he wraps himself in blankets.

The therapist he’s mandated to see before he can be cleared for work tells him that the brain doesn’t always process trauma by taking the most direct path. Eddie doesn’t know why his has fixated on this. The cold. Maybe it’s just easiest. Because the shooting—

His chest gets tight when he’s walking in open air. Sweat breaks out across his brow when the sunlight glints off of windows. His pulse races.

He can’t breathe.

It feels a little like drowning.

“Do you feel safe?” Dr. Kingston asks one session. And Eddie thinks about freezing in a grocery store parking lot, gripping the edge of a cart to keep his hands from shaking, thinks about Buck curving a hand around his shoulder, solid and warm—

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He tastes the lie on his tongue before it slips out.

“I don’t know.”

*

When the world shut down and Eddie had to leave Christopher with his abuela so that he could keep working without worrying constantly that he was putting his son at risk, Buck’s was the obvious place to go. And Eddie doesn’t know if things would have been different if it had been just the two of them but Hen and Chim deciding it was also the obvious place for them to go meant there weren’t a lot of options for sleeping arrangements.

So Eddie shared the bed with Buck. And it didn’t matter if either of them wound up wrapped around the other, the lines of their bodies pressed close enough to bleed together. If they curled into one another like plants twisting to find the light.

It was...instinct. To seek comfort. Warmth. Touch. Both of them alone for so long, and just needing—

Needing.

They never talked about it—there wasn’t anything to talk about. If it made Eddie’s heart race, if it made him ache for something he hadn’t expected and didn’t wholly understand, if when he returned home alone again his own bed felt too empty, that was his own problem.

Now, though—

Now, he knows. Because he stood frozen on the street and stared at Buck with Carla’s words in his head—make sure you’re following your heart—and realized oh. It hadn’t just been convenience, it had been love. Need and desire and love.

Now, he knows, but doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, with the awareness he has suddenly. Buck is living in his house, in his space, helping him with Christopher and with his own recovery, making sure he takes his meds and gets to his appointments and does his exercises. Buck is there all the time and it’s a blessing and a curse because Eddie burns whenever Buck touches him.

And Buck touches him. A lot.

He hadn’t at first, right after Eddie came home from the hospital—Eddie would catch him sometimes looking like he wanted to, but holding back, reaching out but stopping himself, and Eddie never asked why. Even now he doesn’t think he ever needed to—he knows what it’s like to be afraid, to be unsteady, adrift, worrying that touching something you expect to be solid will reveal it’s just an illusion. Not wanting to find out if it is.

But Buck touches him now. And sometimes Eddie will wake up to find that Buck’s migrated from the couch in the living room to a chair by his bed, folded in and fitfully asleep. Buck never says, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s so Buck can reassure himself that Eddie’s still breathing.

Eddie understands that need too. Sometimes he isn’t sure himself.

The first time it happens after Buck’s relationship with Taylor has flamed out—for himself, he and Ana have been over since just after he left the hospital—Eddie finally just gets up.

“Buck.” He curves a hand around the side of Buck’s neck and passes his thumb along the edge of his jaw.

Buck startles awake, looking somehow guilty.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I? Sorry, I know it’s—I can go back to the—”

“Will you just come to bed?” Eddie interrupts before Buck successfully talks himself into leaving the room. “Please?”

Buck’s eyes flick down to his shoulder. He swallows hard.

“I don’t want to—”

Oh.

“You won’t hurt me,” Eddie promises. “Okay?”

Buck searches his face in the dark, but if he sees anything, he clearly doesn’t mind because he nods and gets up from the chair. When they both resettle on the mattress, Buck only pauses for a moment before curving around him like a parenthesis, his arm falling across Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“Is this—?”

Eddie closes his eyes and sinks into the embrace. If it feels just a little bit like cheating because he hasn't told Buck how he feels, that’s between him and god.

“It’s fine,” he assures, then adds to make it a little more fair, “you aren’t the only one who needs—you aren’t the only one.”

Buck relaxes at that, his grip tightening a little with newfound certainty.

When Eddie dreams, he doesn’t drown.

*

“You look good,” Dr. Kingston acknowledges two weeks later. “You’ve been sleeping better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “I stopped having nightmares, so I haven’t been waking up as much.”

He catches the surprise that flickers across her face.

“They stopped completely?” She asks. “Have you been doing something different or—?”

Eddie shifts in his chair and clears his throat. What is he supposed to tell her? That he stopped having nightmares when he started sleeping with Buck every night? He’s not really ready to unpack that with his therapist—he’s barely ready to unpack it in his own head.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he says. Dr. Kingston puts down her pen and levels him with a long look that tells him she knows that’s bullshit and is trying to decide whether to push or let it go until another time.

She lets it go.

“Well,” she replies. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Eddie feels like he’s dodged another bullet.

Later, though, he wonders if he shouldn’t have said more. If he shouldn’t have asked questions. Because he goes to sleep and—

The water is pitch black and freezing. Eddie’s eyes sting, but it doesn’t matter whether he keeps them open or not—there’s nothing to see. He kicks his legs anyway, swims up, up, up, even though it hurts to make his limbs work when they’re so cold. There’s a faint light—the surface—and he kicks harder, desperate to reach—

Ice. Nothing but a sheet of ice, solid and thick. His lungs burn from lack of air, his palms beat against the ice—

He can’t keep moving. It’s too cold. He can’t—

“Eddie. Eddie.” Hands seize him from nowhere, almost too warm, and Eddie could have sworn the ice had no cracks, but he’s being lifted out—

“Eddie.”

He snaps awake, gasping. Buck’s face swims into view, worry painted across every line. His hands are on Eddie’s shoulders.

They’re so warm.

Eddie shivers.

“You were hyperventilating,” Buck says. “I thought—”

“Just a dream,” Eddie grits out, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He still feels frozen. Stupid—it was a dream, it wasn’t real, so he shouldn’t—it shouldn’t be this difficult.

He shivers again.

Buck’s brow furrows deeper.

“You’re shaking—are you cold?”

Eddie sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. He swallows back the denial on his tongue, the urge to run away and hide in the bathroom until a scalding shower makes him feel somewhat human again. Maybe he can’t always be honest with his therapist, but he can be honest with Buck.

“Yes,” he admits. “But it’s not—it’s just in my head. When I got shot I—it’s hard to explain but, yes. I’m cold. Freezing. I don’t know how—”

He cuts off and Buck shifts on the mattress, reaches out slowly so Eddie has plenty of time to stop him if he doesn’t want to be touched, and finally wraps his arms around him, pulling Eddie firmly against his chest.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Buck says quietly. And Eddie—

Something in him cracks. Not like ice during a thaw, but resolve after too much time of being worn down, pressure applied in precisely the right spot. He’s raw and ragged and his scarred heart hardly feels like anything anyone should want, but he’s so tired of pretending he hasn’t been trying to press it into Buck’s hands for a year in different ways. He’s tired of not asking and being afraid and waiting. He’s tired—

Buck makes a soft sound of surprise when Eddie kisses him. But he doesn’t push him away. And Eddie can’t help himself from pressing closer, curling one hand into Buck’s shirt and the other around the back of his neck and kissing him again and again and again, feeling altogether too frantic. He’ll probably find it in himself to be embarrassed in the morning, but want and desperation have left very little room for shame at the moment.

Buck kisses him back. His hands drop to Eddie’s hips as Eddie does his best to climb into his lap.

“Eddie,” Buck pants between kisses. “Eddie—I—” His head falls back and Eddie takes the opportunity to continue his exploration down the exposed line of Buck’s neck.

“Should we talk about this?” Buck finally manages, even as his own hands flirt with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie freezes. The answer, of course, is yes. But talking is the last thing he wants to do when part of him still feels chilled to the bone, not wholly alive. He wants to be touched, wants to be consumed, wants to fall into orbit around Buck’s sun and never leave.

And it’s late. Dark. The two of them, the bed, the very room caught in a liminal space where anything could happen, anything could be said, anything could be forgiven. Eddie can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a dangerous one.

His mouth drags along the edge of Buck’s jaw.

“This isn’t because I wanted someone and you happened to be here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He doesn’t look at Buck’s face. It’s easier to not, to focus on something else. He stopped going to confession a long time ago, but he never had to look directly at his priest either, always some curtain or other barrier obscuring things, lending the illusion of privacy, anonymity.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, and Buck’s hands flex on his hips. “I’ve been in love with you. So we can talk about this if you want, but—”

In an instant, Eddie’s on his back, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Buck is a warm, solid weight on top of him, pinning him, anchoring him, and Eddie finds he doesn’t mind when it forces him to be in the moment, reminds him that he’s fully in his own body.

“I love you, too,” Buck whispers when the kiss breaks, and then he’s pushing Eddie’s shirt up and off and dispensing with his own—

Shannon was his first. Eddie wasn’t hers and he remembers being glad that at least one of them had some idea of what to do because the second she touched him he was so overwhelmed by sensation that he could hardly think.

This is…not dissimilar. Buck’s chest presses flush against his, all warm, bare skin, and Eddie feels like he could drown in a different way. He arches up, seeking Buck’s mouth again, and Buck obliges.

Eddie’s focus narrows to certain points—the slick slide of Buck’s tongue against his, Buck’s hand ghosting along his ribs, the careful space between their hips and the low burn of heat in his gut that makes him want to close the gap—

His hands slide up Buck’s back slowly, his fingers tracing the knobs of Buck’s spine, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades—they dance along the line of his shoulders too, sketching the breadth that he’s noticed but never allowed his thoughts to linger on. His touch is careful, reverent, as if Buck is a holy thing that his stained, sinner hands have no business touching. Perhaps, in a sense that’s true.

He’s never been a very good Catholic, but sex—sex, desire, love—sex has always been something…sacred to him. In high school, he shied away from the locker room-style conversations about who went how far with whom, kept out of any discussion involving lamentations about still being a virgin at graduation. For one thing, he thought they were usually crass and disrespectful. But mainly he just—he didn’t care about waiting until marriage or anything like that, but he always knew he wanted to be in love. Hence, Shannon. And why there hadn’t been anyone after her.

Until now.

Eddie kisses Buck until his lungs ache, but he’s not close enough, feels like he can’t get close enough. One of his hands slides into Buck’s hair, but the other trails back down, presses lightly on Buck’s lower back as his own hips rock up, seeking friction. Buck swears against his lips and closes the distance—Eddie can feel him hard in his sweatpants and flushes, dizzy at the thought of having made that happen, dizzy at the thought of more, dizzy—

He feels very much like a clumsy teenager again, fumbling his way through on instinct. At least this sort of thing is familiar, even if he hasn’t done it with a man before. Buck grinds their hips together, the friction sending sparks through every one of Eddie’s nerve endings, and kisses down his neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point. Eddie gasps and Buck hums, low and pleased, against his skin.

And then, just as he thinks he’s used to the slow burn of pleasure, Buck shifts his weight and slides a hand down to toy with Eddie’s waistband. Buck meets his eyes in the dark and swallows hard.

“Can I—?”

This time, when Eddie shivers it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Please,” he rasps, and Buck smiles before tugging Eddie’s pants down just enough to wrap his hand around Eddie’s cock.

Buck’s touch is a little tentative at first, clearly unused to the angle, and the part of Eddie that’s still capable of noticing that spends a brief moment feeling grateful that he’s not the only one lacking in experience here. But what Buck may lack in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm, experimenting with grip and speed and pressure to figure out exactly what to do to make Eddie gasp again, to make him bite his lip, to make him hide his face in Buck’s shoulder to muffle any louder noises he can’t quite hold back.

It doesn’t take long. Even before the shooting, Eddie rarely bothered to touch himself with any sort of regularity, and during his recovery he had even less of a reason to do so, what little energy he had in the first few months better spent elsewhere. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed it. But clearly his body did because his orgasm hits him like a train when Buck spits into his hand for extra glide and twists his wrist on the upstroke. He bites Buck’s shoulder and Buck’s hips jerk and then he’s just floating—boneless, breathless, and utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Buck collapses on the mattress next to him as Eddie’s catching his breath—Eddie reaches out, his hand skating over Buck’s stomach, and makes a questioning noise. Buck laughs quietly and catches his hand, bringing it to his lips.

“I, uh—I’m good,” Buck promises, and even in the dark Eddie can see his cheeks flush.

Eddie curls into his side. “Really?”

Buck kisses him. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve wanted to do that. Or how good you look. So, yes, I already—yes. Really.”

Eddie’s lips curve up. He presses a kiss to the edge of Buck’s jaw. As the immediate aftermath wears off, his eyelids start to grow heavy, his limbs moving a little less easily.

“We should probably shower,” he acknowledges, although the strength of the statement is likely diminished by the yawn that interrupts him halfway through.

“Probably,” Buck agrees, but he too makes no move to actually get up.

Pressed against him as he is, Eddie is warm and sated and content. He drifts, skirting the edge of sleep.

“I love you,” he says again. Because it feels important.

Buck hums. If he says something else, it’s too low for Eddie to catch.

When he dreams again, he doesn’t dream of drowning. He doesn’t dream of the cold.

Instead, there’s just light. Just warmth.

Just Buck.

[datleggy]

Buddie prompt: aggressively pro-buddie Helena and Ramon Diaz, who are ecstatic when Eddie tells them he's dating, and then utterly befuddled when he introduces Ana. But they decide to bite their tongues about it (Buck, their future son in law, has talked to them about respecting Eddie's decisions, however dumb, after all), until Ana (unwittingly? Innocently? No matter) makes a comment about Buck, and then all bets are off.

Hope this inspires you!

Helena is so relieved that Eddie finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them, that she could cry. She feels awful that it took her so long to realize it. 

It had been on Eddie’s last visit to Texas, when he and his crew had been fighting wildfires, that Ramon--her dense as can be when it comes to matters of the heart husband of all people--had noticed that their son was in love. 

Helena still remembers saying goodbye to her son and his two teammates, remembers Ramon closing the door, waiting exactly all of five seconds before turning to her and saying, “I’m happy for him. He’s so stubborn, I didn’t know if he’d ever let himself get that close to someone again.” 

And Helena had been confused at first, and then even chuckled when Ramon had explained calmly that clearly their son was dating his coworker Buck, until she’d stopped to really give it a moment’s thought. It had hit her all at once, how obvious those two were, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since they’d started dating and why Eddie hadn’t said anything yet. 

She’s seen the photos on Instagram, Helena thinks, as their plane lands. Buck smiling next to her grandbaby after helping her son build him a skateboard he could safely ride in the park. Buck standing shoulder to shoulder with Eddie behind Tia and Christopher in that Christmas photo at the station. The selfie Eddie posted of him and Buck with the giant cast still on his leg the day of the ceremony for when he was no longer a probationary firefighter with the 118. 

Really, she should’ve figured it out months ago. 

When Eddie had called and told her he’d started dating again and that the next time they came to visit he’d make an introduction Helena had been thrilled! 

Ramon drives them from the airport to their son’s place in their rental and Helena rambles on about how she hopes Buck isn’t too nervous to see them again, now that the cat’s out of the bag. 

When they arrive Eddie greets them at the door with a big hug and ushers his parents inside and Helena is so ready to step into the living room and welcome Buck into the family with open arms, to show her son that there was nothing to be afraid of, that they love him and nothing in the world would change that--

Only to be met with....not Buck? 

“Oh,” Helena stops dead in her tracks and Ramon stands beside her looking about as confused as she feels. “Hello.” she smiles politely enough. 

The woman sitting next to Christopher on the couch stands up and she’s absolutely stunning, her curls bouncing on her shoulders when she stands up to exchange hello’s. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name is Ana.” 

The rest of the afternoon goes by just fine, but Eddie can tell something is amiss the entire time, though he does a good job of hiding it from Ana, who’s her usual charming self through out lunch. 

She has to take a work call at some point and excuses herself to another room and that’s when Eddie turns to his parents and half-whispers. “Ok, I know those looks. What’s wrong?” 

Helena shakes her head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what is it? Ana is perfect. She’s incredibly smart, she’s funny, she’s got a great job, good head on her shoulders, and Christopher loves her--so again, I ask, what’s wrong?” 

Ramon follows his wife’s lead. “Mijo, really, it’s nothing. She’s great. We’re happy for you. I think we’re just a little tired from the flight, that’s all.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes slightly but decides there isn’t much sleuthing that can be done at the moment, so all he can do is take them at their word for now. “Fine, if you say so.” 

They’re in the middle of watching Nemo when Buck's name comes up.

"When the tsunami happened Buck and I sang 'just keep swimming' like Dory." Christopher grins up at his dad and Eddie ruffles the curls on his head playfully. It helps Christopher to be able to openly talk about what he went through that day, the good and the bad.

"You never told me Buck was there that day." Ana comments off handedly.

Eddie nods, "Huh, I thought I mentioned it? Buck took him to the pier that morning."

"It was scary but Buck saved me." Christopher tells his grandma, who reaches across the couch to squeeze his arm. Helena had been horrified to hear what had happened at the time; it still gives her anxiety just thinking about it.

"That's right." She says softly.

"I thought some woman you didn't know carried him to one of the tents, and that's how you two were reunited, no?" Ana asks.

"Yeah, but before that, during the initial impact Buck was with Christopher, he managed to get him up to this firetruck in the middle of everything. It was after he dove back into the water to save someone that a second wave came and swept Christopher right off and they got separated from there." Eddie recalls solemnly.

There had been blood running down the dirty wet bandage on his arm, he'd been soaked to the bone, exhausted and barely standing upright. It wasn't until Christopher had been found that Buck had allowed himself to collapse.

"Oh..." Ana frowns.

Ramon puts a hand over his heart and sighs. "It's a miracle, really."

Ana doesn't mean to say it outloud, but the words comes tumbling out of her mouth without warning. "And you're still friends with him?"

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"I'm sorry, really, it's just--I don't understand." Ana rubs her shoulder self consciously, fully aware of the fact that everyone is looking at her. "Look, Edmundo, you nearly bit my head off when Christopher got a skinned knee under my watch but you're still best friends with the man who lost your son for God only knows how long? It doesn't make any sense to me."

Ana knows how overprotective Eddie is of his son, and in fact, that's one of the reasons she likes him so much; she admires that about him and this? It doesn't track with the man she knows.

Helena wants to open her mouth and she say something in defense of Buck--he's a good man, after all. But she knows better than to get between a couple in an argument, especially given how bias she is towards her future son in law...

Instead, she clears her throat and looks at Christopher, "Honey, how about you help me and Grandpa unpack? I bought a lot of fun things from Texas for you."

Christopher doesn't want to go. His Dad looks upset. Ana looks upset. He wants to stay and help. If Ana met Buck she would understand, Christopher's sure of it. But his grandparents are already leading him down the hall and to the guest room.

Christopher hangs out with his grandparents for a few minutes before fibbing and telling them he needs to use the bathroom. They both offer to help him but he insists that he can do it himself, promising to call out if he needs them.

He sneaks the home phone into the bathroom with him and dials a number he knows by heart at this point. He waits a couple of rings before the call connects.

"Hey, what's up?" Buck's voice comes through the other end. He sounds distracted.

"Bucky? Can you come get me?" He whispers into the phone.

He hears a small commotion and then a stifled 'ow!' and then: "Chris? Are you ok? You're home, right? What's wrong? Where's Eddie?"

"I'm home. I'm ok. But--" there's a knock on the door and it startles Christopher into accidentally hanging up the phone before he can explain the situation in it's entirety.

"It was a tsunami." Eddie sighs, "It wouldn't be fair to hold something like that over his head. And look, you weren't there. You didn't see the look on his face, you don't know how many hours he spent crying out Christopher's name at the top of his lungs, injured and looking nonstop through the rubble for him--"

"Yeah, which he wouldn't have had to do if he hadn't lost him in the first place. It sounds like he was too busy playing hero for strangers to watch your son." Ana folds her arms across her chest. "I don't want to fight. Especially not with your parents here. Honestly, I'm just confused? We don't have to talk about this right now. I can go. I just want to apologize to your parents and Christopher first, before I leave, for," she sighs, embarrassed, "well, for causing a scene. This is not the way I'd pictured meeting your parents."

"You know, if you just met Buck I really think you would--"

A cacophony of knocks at the door make the both of them jump. Ana looks at Eddie. "Were you expecting anyone else?"

"Christopher!? Christopher I'm here, open up!"

Eddie gapes. "...Buck?"

"Did you...call him over?" Ana didn't even see him reach for his phone.

"What? No, of course not." Eddie starts towards the door--the knocking has gotten so boisterous he's pretty sure Buck's about to break down his door--but Ana beats him to it.

At this point Eddie's parents and Christopher are in the hallway wondering what all that racket is.

Ana lets the door swing open, and if she's being entirely honest she's not sure what she's planning on saying to the man who's essentially at the center of her first real argument with her boyfriend, but whatever it was, it goes up in smoke when she takes in the sight of him.

Buck is taller than she'd pictured but that's not what's got her speechless.

He's standing at the doorway, chest heaving, clearly having rushed out of his house, where he was very obviously in the middle of shaving, if the shaving cream still smeared on a third of his face is any indication. He's in sweatpants and a white undershirt that's got little drops of blood on the front from where he must have cut himself while shaving. There's a bright red cut running down the underside of his chin.

"Um." Ana can't do much except stare, wide eyed.

Buck blinks at her, "Uh...Ana?" He suddenly realizes all the people in the house behind her are looking at him in a kind of stupor.

She nods slowly. "Buck?"

Buck nods sheepishly, "Uh... So, I am clearly interrupting something here."

"You came!" Christopher moves past all of the adults in the corridor and throws himself at Buck's legs.

Buck lifts the kid up easily enough, crutches and all, "Yeah, about that," he gently pinches his cheek, eliciting a giggle out of Christopher, "What was that phone call all about? You nearly gave me a heart attack, bud."

Eddie groans. "Christopher, did you call Buck to come all the way over here in the middle of the day?" He walks over and uses the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the rest of the shaving cream on the side of Buck's face. The look on his face is fond as he does so. "What did this little menace say to get you over here in such a rush?"

Christopher pouts. "I just told him to come get me. I thought if Miss Ana met my Bucky she'd know how come you're still best friends." He grips at Buck's t shirt tightly. "You can't stop being friends, Dad. I love Buck. He's my friend too."

Buck frowns. "Umm..."

Eddie gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's not--it's complicated. I promise to explain everything later. Right now isn't really a great time--"

Ana interrupts hesitantly. "Actually, now is probably good. I need to get home soon, it's getting pretty late, so I should get going." She turns to Helena and Ramon. "It was very nice to meet you both." She scoohches past Buck and Christopher and practically sprints to where she parked her car, aware of the fact that Eddie is calling out her name and only half a step behind her.

It's not until they're several blocks down the street that she swivels around and he nearly topples into her in his haste. "Ana, please, I don't want you to leave like this. I really didn't call him over." He reaches into his back pocket and shows her his phone. "See?"

Ana takes the phone and presses her lips together thinly. "He called you like twenty times on his way over."

Eddie frowns. His phone must have been on silent. It's no wonder Buck rushed over like he did. "He was just worried about Christopher--"

Ana sighs resignedly. "No, I know. It's obvious, how much your best friend cares about your son. I can see why he's still in your life. And I think I can also see why that means you don't really have any room for me in it..."

Eddie shakes his head. "What? Why would you say that?"

Ana looks him in the eye, intent as can be on reading him. Eddie had smiled so warmly, creating such an unintentionally intimate moment when all he'd done was swipe at the other mans face with his sleeve...

"You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"I think this is something you and Buck need to sort out yourselves. Goodbye Edmundo."

Eddie closes the door behind him as he steps inside, a little heartbroken and a lot confused.

There's noise coming from the kitchen and so Eddie follows it to the source. Ramon is telling Buck about how to sear the perfect steak by the stove while Helena and Christopher set the table.

"Is everything alright?" Helena asks, when she notices him by the entryway.

Eddie nods, lying when he says. "Yeah, all good Mom."

She gives him a knowing look but keeps her mouth shut. "Honey, take Buck here to your room, let him borrow one of your shirts. And maybe a razor?"

Buck chuckles shyly. "It's fine, really. I should probably get going too--"

Ramon shushes him. "Nonsense. Go, go, get changed and get your butt back into this kitchen. Scoot."

Eddie takes Buck by the shoulders and drags him to his room, where he finds a worn gray Henley for him. "Here."

Buck thanks him before stripping out of his white undershirt and throwing on the clean shirt.

Eddie plops himself down on his bed with a sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry about all this mess. And on your one day off, too."

Buck sits down beside him, bumping their shoulders together. "I don't really know what's going on but, are you doing ok?"

"I don't know," Eddie makes a face. "I think I got broken up with today."

Buck cringes. "Shit, I'm sorry, what happened?"

That's a good question. Eddie ponders that a moment. Ana had said it herself: she understood perfectly why Eddie didn't blame Buck for what happened during the tsunami and she had seen first hand how much Buck cares for Christopher for herself today.

So, why?

"She said that there wasn't any room for her in my life?" Eddie scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this dating stuff anymore."

"Aw, c'mon man," Buck pats him on the back. "You fall off the bike you gotta get right back on." He turns his body all the way around so that he's facing Eddie fully. "Dude, you're a catch. You're a handsome, badass firefighter, you've got the best kid, and hey--you got me." Buck grins toothily.

Eddie rolls his eyes, though he can't help but smile. "So what I'm hearing here is that I'm stuck with you?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Buck laughs.

Eddie leans back on his arms and looks up at his best friend, pensive. "Promise?"

Buck extends his pinky and wiggles it in front of Eddie, who smiles as he wraps his pinky around Buck's. "Promise."

.

[himbodiaz]

Watch Me Fall Apart (And I'll Be Yours to Keep)

1856 words. After a tough rescue, both Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital. 

title from only love by ben howard. i wrote most of this in one sitting with no beta so just *gestures vaguley* here 

They've both been here too many times to count—covered in soot, smoke in their lungs, sweat plastering their hair to their faces, but never at the same time. Never where the other can't be near to see, to place a hand on a shoulder, to lean against in support. A fire in a high-rise, a family trapped on the upper floors, and that's all it took for Buck to grab the ropes, Eddie behind him, because where one goes, the other follows. It's their routine, their deal, the promise to have each other's backs, to support whenever needed, it's just never ended them both in the hospital at the same time.

Eddie is the first one released—Buck had been the first to go in, and made sure that Eddie was out before him, because of course he did. And maybe Eddie should've insisted that Buck get out before him, should've argued with him for an extra five seconds, should've done something so that Buck doesn't have to spend the night in the hospital alone. But he didn't, and now Eddie is being sent home and the doctor is refusing to let him see Buck.  

"Mr. Diaz," the doctor says, "Your friend is fine."

Eddie wants to argue with her, because friend? Friend? Like Buck and Eddie have been anything but friends for a long time. Like Buck isn't laying in a hospital bed alone, when Eddie should be there to support him. Like by denying him seeing Buck, all the smoke that was in Eddie's lungs returns and it's almost impossible to breathe for the second time tonight.

"He's asleep now and resting," she continues when Eddie opens his mouth to argue, "Which you should be doing, too. You need to go home and rest, you can come see him in the morning."

"But—"

"Mr. Diaz," she cuts him off, remaining polite, but obviously frustrated, "Visiting hours have been over for a long time, and Mr. Buckley will be discharged in the morning. Someone will give you a call, and you can pick him up then."

The doctor's tone is one of finality, but Eddie can't take no for an answer. Before he can continue pleading his case, Bobby arrives. He comes over to Eddie and the doctor, placing a reassuring hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I've got it from here, thanks doc," he says, before steering Eddie toward the exit. They've barely made it out the doors before Eddie shakes Bobby's hand from his shoulder, and turns on him.

"Bobby," he all but begs, "You have to let me see him. They brought us in at the same time, but I haven't seen him since. I know it's smoke inhalation, and probably some fatigue and dehydration, but they won't let me see him." Eddie knows how he sounds, knows it's desperate in a way he normally isn't, but it's Buck. It's Buck, who has ended up in hospitals more times than he cares to count, who is his partner, who made sure that Eddie got out of the building first, even knowing it would land him more time here—he can't just leave him behind.

"Eddie," Bobby says as evenly as possible—it's the same tone he uses on distraught spouses, and Eddie wants to cry, "I need you to take a breath for a minute, okay? Just take a moment to calm down, and then we'll figure it out."

And yeah, Eddie probably does need to collect himself, because while smoke inhalation can be serious, Buck is getting exactly the care he needs right now. There's nothing for Eddie to do, yet it doesn't stop the helplessness that's settled in the space between his ribs, which only worsened after the doctor told him he was being discharged without Buck. So, Eddie shuts his eyes, and allows himself a few moments to just breathe, to focus on the air entering and then leaving his lungs, to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling. It helps steady him, helps him come back to a relatively even keel.

"Are you good to drive?" Is the first thing that Bobby asks once Eddie opens his eyes. He doesn't think he can talk without freaking out again, so he nods his response. "Okay, good. What's going to happen is I'm going to drive you back to the station, you're going to get your truck, take it home, see Christopher, and go to sleep. Because the doctor was right, you need to rest. And in the morning, when the hospital calls you, you'll go pick up Buck. Sound like a plan?"

Now that he's calmed down and the adrenaline that's been keeping him alert has worn off, Eddie feels a deep tiredness settle in his bones, and it takes all his remaining energy to stay on his feet. Again, Eddie nods in response, walks over to the car, and says, "Take me to the station, Cap." And that's what Bobby does.

Normally, when one of the crew returns from the hospital, the rest of the shift is there to greet them, but no one is there when Eddie arrives, and he's grateful. His nerves are fried, he's exhausted, and he doesn’t think he could handle the team's questions right now. All he wants to do is shower, grab his bag, and go home—thankfully, he's able to do that without even hearing the low hum of conversation that's ever present in the loft.

Eddie is locking the front door behind him and taking off his shoes while he debates whether or not to wake Chris just so he can give him a hug. It's only when he's finally made it to Chris' door that he has his answer—not because he came to a decision himself, but because one was made for him.

Chris' bed is empty, and for a heartbeat Eddie panics, because Christopher isn't in his bed, but then he remembers: he was injured on hour twelve of a twenty-four-hour shift, so of course Chris isn't here. And Eddie should feel relieved, should feel calmer now, but all he can think about is the fact that he can't see his son, and he can't see Buck, and suddenly it's like the anchors that were holding his mooring in place have let go, and he's adrift.

Eddie tries to breathe, tries to remind himself that both his boys are okay, they're both being looked after, they're both safe. He goes to the kitchen, fills a glass with water, and drinks it all in one go. He fills it again, this time bringing it to his room, setting it down on the table beside his bed. Eddie changes into an old t-shirt that Buck left behind ages ago and an old pair of army sweatpants before he slides into bed.

Now that he's home and in bed, the exhaustion should be catching up with him, all but dragging him to sleep. Except, now that Eddie's alone, he can't stop thinking about how quiet the house is, how empty it feels. Even on nights when Chris is away at a sleepover, Buck would always come over, and they'd watch a movie, or a hockey game, or just talk over beers. The negative space, normally filled by laughter and jokes and, god, even Buck's snoring in his ear, feels like a noose around his neck. No matter what he does, Eddie just cannot sleep.

So, Eddie lays in bed and does his best not to think about the call that ended him up here, and Buck alone in the hospital. Does his best not to think about how he should have told Buck to take the daughter out while he got the father. Does his best not to think about how Buck removed his mask to help the victim breathe, and putting himself in danger. A shuddering sob rips through his chest, and he forces himself to sit up because he needs to get air in his lungs or he'll choke on his guilt and fear.

The clock on beside his bed reads quarter after five, so he figures that's good enough for morning, and gets up. He can't stay in his empty house any longer, so Eddie slips on the worn sweater that he keeps hanging off the back of his door, grabs his keys and wallet, puts on his shoes, and then he's out the door.

The drive to the hospital is quick, but now he has nothing to do but wait. He turns on the radio, but keeps it low so that it's just a hum in the background. At some point, Eddie must doze, because the next thing he knows, he's being startled awake by his ringtone and the clock on his dashboard reads half past seven.

"Hello, is this Mr. Di—"

"Yes," he interrupts the caller, not caring how he sounds, "I'm outside."  

"Okay, we'll send him to you now." And it's all Eddie can do to mumble a quick thank you before hanging up.

He doesn't go up to the doors, but his truck is parked close enough to the front that Buck can't miss him. Still, he gets out, leans against the driver side door, and waits. It doesn't take long, maybe a minute or two, and Buck is walking out the doors, looking side to side, eyes searching. He's clean, his curls are soft, if a little messy, and his whole face lights up the moment he sees Eddie.

"You look like shit," is the first thing Buck says to him. He comes right up to Eddie, less than a foot away, and Eddie has to clutch his hands together so he doesn't reach out and touch. But even without touching him, the weight that has made a home in Eddie's chest since last night melts away, like it's made of ice and Buck of flame.

"Well," Eddie tries to joke, "Not all of us got our beauty sleep." But he can't hide the heaviness in his voice, he can't help how it wavers now that the tension is gone, he can't help but lower his head.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck says earnestly, taking hands he didn't even realize were shaking in his own.  

And it's the softness in his voice, the thumb running over his knuckles, the pulse he can feel once he lets himself grip Buck's wrist, that gives him the strength to answer, "Yeah, Buck?"

"We're okay," Buck tells him, like a promise. Like the answer to a question Eddie hadn't dared ask because it terrified him. Buck's hands move from their grip on Eddie's, one hand sliding around his waist, the other coming to the back of his head.

"Yeah," Eddie whispers into the space between Buck's shoulder and neck, "we're okay."

Buck only holds him tighter now, his lips pressed to Eddie's temple, as he releases a shuttering breath. They stay there, each clutching the other, until they no longer feel adrift, until their moorings are once again anchored in a cove, and no longer lost in the rolling waves of the open ocean.

[buttercupbuck]

tw: nightmares, blood, gun violence, mentions of PTSD + spoilers for 4.13/4.14

It happens again, bullets mercilessly ripping through his flesh. For a moment, the world is still as he tries to catch up, the ground below him unsteady and soft as agonizing pain spreads through both of his shoulders. And then it’s rising to meet him and he’s crashing, helpless to do anything but fall.

Buck - Buck is here, but he’s so far and then he’s falling too, and he wants to cry because they were supposed to be safe. Los Angeles was so far from Afghanistan but they’re both bleeding out behind a helicopter on the hot pavement anyway, sand and blood filling his lungs as he watches Buck reach out to him and as he does the same. He can feel himself slipping, crashing towards some fate he doesn’t know the other side of - so far from everyone he loves, from Chris, and tears slide down his cheeks at the unfairness of it all.

The helicopter explodes and the battalion truck follows, and they’re surrounded by flames. As they engulf him, the heat scorching his skin, he wonders if this is hell - if he’s finally meeting his punishment for making it out alive in the first place. 

He tries to call out to Buck - wants to apologize for dragging him down here with him, but the fire is too loud now, drowning his cries in their wrath. 

But then Buck’s calling out to him, his voice urgent and yet so soft Eddie foolishly thinks he can escape in it. Eddie, wake up.

That’s not right. 

More firm, now, he begs - Wake up, Eddie. 

He’s torn from the pavement and he’s jolting upwards, a fresh wave of pain radiating from his shoulder with the movement. A spike of panic follows and his breath hitches in his throat as a familiar voice breaks through it all - “Hey, hey - you’re okay, you’re safe.” 

His eyes dart around, familiarizing him to the hospital room he’s been staying in the last few days until they land on his best friend, and the coil that had been wound tight around his heart loosens at the sight of him. A breath of relief finally escapes him as he sinks back into the stiff pillows, his strings cut.  

They stay like that a moment, the sound of his ragged breaths heavy in the still air as he tries to shake off the remnants of his dream. At some point, a gentle hand comes up to wipe at his face, and it’s only then that he recognizes the damp sensation on his cheeks. 

And he wants to be embarrassed but he just feels safe, and the realization sends a new wave of despair through him because he’s not sure that anything is safe anymore - not really. Whatever sense of safety he managed to find in the aftermath of his aborted tour has been ripped out from under him. He feels like he’s falling, and he’s just - he’s so tired. 

He can feel his face crumpling as an exhausted sob is ripped from his throat. “I don’t know how to do this again,” he admits. 

Buck’s face falls, and he can just make out the shine of tears in his eyes in the low light of the room. His heart sinks with that, with the realization that he’s already brought Buck to this point with the heaviness of everything he could never seem to move past. 

But then he’s cupping his jaw with his hand, and pathetically, Eddie lets himself lean into it. 

“You won’t do it alone, okay? You got me, and everyone else who loves you.”

He wants to believe it, more than anything. But there’s that small voice that whispers bitingly in the back of his head, that reminds him that no one had wanted to stick around for this part before. 

And it had been easier to hide, back then. It wasn’t hard when no one was really looking anyway. 

But he knows the family he’s made here - he knows they won’t let him retreat and lick his wounds in silence, and it terrifies him, makes him feel exposed in a way that’s familiar and unfamiliar. Because they never knew the person who returned from war and felt like a stranger to his family and to himself - they never had to deal with the person who flinched at loud noises and who constantly looked over his shoulder, who cried in his sleep and who couldn’t understand why it’d been him that made it out. 

They only knew the person who came after, and Eddie wasn’t sure if they could love the person he fears he might become again. 

As if he can sense his hesitance, Buck’s expression fixes into something fierce yet gentle, an unwavering look in his eyes as he dips his head so Eddie can’t escape his gaze. 

“I mean it, Eddie.” 

He looks down again, feeling hot and uncomfortable. “Buck, it’s not - it’s not pretty.” 

“Neither was my stuff after the ladder truck crushed my leg. But you were always there,” he says, a shaky exhale slipping past his lips, “Please just - please let me be there for you, too.” 

“You don’t get it. I have to - I need to be strong for Chris. I can’t just...” 

Buck interjects, “Chris needs you alive, which you are. The rest we’ll figure out. Together.”

“You really mean it?”  

A part of him hates how pathetic it comes out, but he’s not sure he knows how to do this alone anymore. Not when Buck weaved himself so effortlessly into every thread of his life and showed him another way of being, made him forget what being alone in the world felt like.

“I promise. We’ve got each other’s backs, right?” Buck smiles, and though it’s thin and exhausted, it’s still genuine and Eddie is tired of fighting the only thing that feels safe right now. So he nods, and Buck breaks into a relieved grin.

“So tell me - what do you need right now?”

Truthfully, he can feel the pull of sleep tugging at him, the painkillers dragging him back under, and there’s still that small fear that he’ll slip again, fall into a sleep that he won’t wake from, and he just - doesn’t want to be alone. Not when death had already felt so lonely. 

“Just - stay?”

“Yeah, of course - I’m not going anywhere. Just get some rest, yeah?”

He nods, exhausted, and before he falls asleep he swears he can feel Buck slot their hands together, and the comforting feel of it settles him enough to finally relax.

[milenadaniels]

Carve It Into Stone, 1574 words - Buck/Eddie + Chris, Sleepy Sickfic

(AO3 link)

Caught in the rhythm of routine, Eddie remembers a few moments too late that he’s meant to be entering quietly when he gets home from work. Or: a self-indulgent Buck and Chris napping together fic because of this post.

Caught in the rhythm of routine, Eddie remembers a few moments too late that he’s meant to be entering quietly when he gets home from work. The deadlock has already been turned but, wincing, he slides his key back out gently and palms the doorknob deliberately to prevent the familiar squeaks from reverberating through the house.

Once inside, he guides his duffel bag to the floor, not letting the strap clatter down as he usually would, and takes care as he bends down to unlace his boots and toe them off before padding into the living room, following the low sounds of the television.

On Thursday, Abuela asked for help figuring out the new tax software she wanted to use this year — it was very user friendly but she was very much in her 80s — and instead of subjecting Christopher to an entire afternoon and evening of boredom, Eddie asked Buck to pick him up from school and hang out until he could join them. He hadn’t known at the time that Christopher was sent home with a note saying he’d been sniffly and should be kept home until he felt better: new protocols in the mid/post-COVID-19 world.

Buck immediately got him a rapid test for COVID-19 and it was ruled out, and it didn’t present like a flu, it was just a hell of a cold. Mild fever, runny nose, body aches — the works. And Buck, who had been exposed for hours at its peak transmission period, did not escape it. Which made it handy when Eddie needed a sitter on Friday and Buck naturally had to call in sick himself.

Buck was sending him text updates all throughout his shift but they stopped suddenly a couple hours ago, so Eddie is not at all surprised to find them both out for the count.

Still, he’s not prepared to take in the sight of Buck stretched on his back, somehow fitting his 6’2 frame between each arm rest, and Christopher tucked snugly along his side, more on top of him than in the wedge between Buck’s body and the back of the couch. One of Buck’s hands is curled up by his face, while his other arm is holding Christopher to him as if there was a risk of falling. Christopher’s arm is tucked into his chest, and his head is resting against Buck’s collarbone, nearly tucked right under his chin and Eddie…

Eddie pauses.

He pauses and grapples with this picture of strength and fragility juxtaposed and blended together. Buck, built for strength and power, tenderly cradling his young son. Both of them unstoppable forces of energy and unrestrained joy, both cast down together by germs they just have to weather.

Both of them here, recovering together, safe under Eddie’s roof, under Eddie’s watch now.

He feels suddenly like he’s walked blindly into a moment in the course of his life whose significance he can’t yet pinpoint and he thinks if he just stays here, quiet, still, he might be able to reach out and understand it.

Christopher’s glasses are on the table nestled between a tissue box and two empty glasses of water, indicating one of them knew they were headed towards an extended nap before they settled in and somehow that detail tugs at his heart fiercely. To imagine Buck watching Christopher get sleepier and sleepier, carding his fingers through his curls fondly, and gently lifting his glasses off to make him more comfortable. Was he already settled against Buck by then? Or were they sitting upright until Buck started to lose his own battle with fatigue and rearranged them like this? Indulging both their need for cuddles when they’re feeling low?

It doesn’t matter, but Eddie wishes fiercely that he knew.

They’re both breathing easily enough, like most of the congestion has lifted, though he can tell by the amount of crumpled up tissues that missed the trash can Buck must have brought into the living room that they had a hell of a day with it. Their cheeks are a little flushed with fever still, and Eddie wants to check but doesn’t dare touch them for fear of disturbing them.

Instead, he takes in their pale skin, their dark curls, and their unguarded faces in sleep and marvels for the hundredth time at how improbable it is that they could look so alike and how strangely happy he is about it. By now he’s used to the guilt that accompanies this thought, and as always, spares a thought to Shannon, but then he lets himself linger on it like he doesn’t usually have the luxury of doing.

Usually their similarities strike him at the worst times: when he turns around in line to catch them making faces and laughing at being caught, and Eddie has to pretend to be grumpy and turn back around to play into their game; when they’re ordering ice cream and Eddie asks for strawberry and they both turn to look at him with identical expression of disappointment because fruit isn’t a treat even if it’s fake fruit; when he has to take a call from Carla as they’re walking into the museum and catches up to Buck and Chris just in time to hear the ticket taker say “you and your dad have fun!” because she has eyes and anyone on Earth would have assumed the same. These are moments Eddie has to let lie and move on from quickly. Moments he only gets to revisit when he’s laying in bed at night, trying to conjure up the visuals exactly as they were to reproduce the tightening in his chest he keeps experiencing, but failing every time.

But now, here, he can linger.

No, he can do more than linger.

Moving slowly as if any sudden movement could break this tranquility, Eddie slips his phone out of his pocket and double-taps the power button to bring up the camera.

He takes a single, wide-view shot of the whole couch, and admires it for a moment.

Then he zooms in on their sleeping faces and takes two more.

Three new pictures to add to the overflowing folder of pictures that will never go on Instagram.

He quickly sends Carla the wide-view shot because he feels the need to share what he’s come home to and she’s the only safe option. The only one who won’t read more into it than Eddie’s comfortable addressing.

Though if Eddie’s being truthful, he knows she’s just the only one who’ll keep it to herself until he’s ready to hear it.

Carla sends back three red hearts, and Eddie can’t help but agree.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and makes room to sit on the coffee table.

Buck’s hand is right there, open, palm facing up, waiting.

Eddie reaches for his shoulder instead, though he slips up and instead of jostling him gently like he meant to, his hand curves around his shoulder and his thumb glides back and forth against his shirt until Buck is snuffling and blinking awake.

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling when Buck remains half-asleep, his body as relaxed as it was in sleep.

“Hey,” he croaks, gently clearing his throat and casting a nervous eye to Christopher who makes nothing of the disturbance.

“How are you feeling?”

Buck seems to mentally assess himself. “Fine, just crazy tired. Our little man here was a trooper, but he conked out a couple hours ago. Aw, shi--oot,” he looks at the television, “I was supposed to pause it when he fell asleep. I don’t remember which episode we were on.”

Eddie smiles. “He probably won’t even remember the episodes you did watch. You can start over when you’re both back on your feet.”

“Mm,” Buck hums, his eyelids already growing heavier again. “‘K.”

Eddie watches sleep take over Buck, until those tired lids are pried apart suddenly with mild alarm.

“D’you want m’to put him to bed?” Buck slurs. “Be more comfortable?”

Eddie shakes his head with a fond smile. “He’s just fine where he is.”

Buck’s eyes grow vulnerable in a way he’s been trying to hide lately when he’s in full control of his faculties, and the corner of his lips tugs up into a shy smile.

“Go back to sleep,” Eddie says, his voice pitched low to be soothing.

Buck obeys and within a couple of minutes his face is slack and peaceful, his breathing evened out, but some stray impulse shifts his hand away from his face and off the couch entirely to hang in the space between them.

Can Eddie really be faulted then for taking it in his hands and holding on for just a second — feeling the slight heat from the fever seep into his skin, feeling the curl of mildly calloused fingers against his, feeling the weight of it between his palms and deciding that he likes it, a lot?

He guides Buck’s hand back to its original resting place and doesn’t give in when his fingers want to explore the ungelled curls resting against his forehead.

He lingers, again, just one more time, and lets the knowledge that Carla’s talk will likely be coming sooner rather than later wash over him.

And by the way he only barely makes it to the kitchen before thumbing open his gallery and reviewing the three pictures he took, he figures he may just be ready for it.

[gayhotpriests]

Thank you so much for tagging me in 'send me a prompt and i'll write you a fic!' May I please request Buck and Eddie prompt where Buddie is already together and Ana makes a comment about Buck or the tsunami? I'd love to see protective Abuela and Eddie ❤❤

hey! i'm sorry i couldn't fit abuela into this but I hope you like it! i had a great time writing this prompt, and it turned out to be almost pure fluff. enjoy! send me a prompt and I'll write you a fic.

this right here, in a grocery store. [one shot, 1.4k, buddie, ao3]

Buck stares alternatively at the two boxes in his hands, taking his sweet time deciding which pasta brand to buy. He and Eddie are getting groceries for the week, along with Christopher, who is happily seated in the cart and has very seriously accepted the task of organizing the items in categories. Eddie has left them in the pasta aisle to go look for Christopher’s favorite cereal and they have agreed to meet at the fruit and vegetable section in two minutes- Buck has to make a quick choice, or else, Eddie won’t get him his quinoa chips.

“What do you think, Superman?” He calls out for Christopher’s attention, showing him both boxes, “Fusilli or farfalle?” Buck asks. The boy scrunches up his nose and rubs his chin between his fingers, thinking hard. It is a hard question, after all.

“I like the little bowties better,” Christopher answers in a serious tone, “I want that one.”

“Farfalle,” Buck corrects softly, handing him the box so he can place it between the bread and the tomato paste cans. “Alright, let’s get rolling.”

Christopher giggles as Buck pushes the cart and makes car noises, reaches out a hand to pat Buck's when they pass a shelf stocked with chocolate on sale. They share a knowing smile as they grab a couple of bags of M&M's.

They are reaching the fruit and veggie section, with Christopher babbling about wanting to get kiwis and tangerines when Buck spots Eddie, a beautiful looking woman standing next to him, facing Eddie so Buck can't see her face. She's sort of tall, slim, and tan, and her long dark curls cascade down her back, shiny and perfectly styled.

A strange feeling of uneasiness settles down in Buck's stomach- he's never been the jealous kind, but his relationship with Eddie is still kind of new (the romantic aspect to it, at least), and they haven't really announced it to the world yet, so he wouldn't blame him for getting hit on at the grocery store. Still, something's not right, and the feeling intensifies as they approach Eddie and Buck takes note of his tense shoulders and a tight smile. He's uncomfortable, eyes flicking from the woman in front of him and the end of the aisle. When Eddie finally sees them, he relaxes for a second before panic flashes in his eyes and he turns back to the woman, scratches his neck, and looks at his son and Buck again.

The woman turns around.

“Miss Flores!” Christopher exclaims, genuinely happy to see her, and she smiles wide, eyes crinkling cutely and all. Buck stops the cart a few steps before he crashes it against them.

“Hello Christopher,” she says, voice syrupy sweet and a little on the edge of childlike, and she crouches down to be on Christopher’s eye level, “long time no see.”

“Hey, Ana,” Eddie clears his throat, “you know Chris, and this is, uh, this is Buck. Buck, meet miss Ana Flores.” Ana directs her thousand-mega-watt smile at him now, and Buck tries not to cringe.

Eddie didn’t introduce Buck as his boyfriend, which, okay, fair, he can’t imagine how awkward it must be for Eddie to run into his ex-girlfriend who doesn’t know he swings both ways at the grocery store, but still. Buck has to pretend that his stomach isn’t tied in knots and slap a fake smile on his face, his mother’s ‘be nice, Evan’ echoing behind his thoughts. Buck takes a deep breath. He’s going to be nice; he can be polite and get out of this as fast as possible.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you, Buck," she says, but there’s something wrong in the way she says her name, laced with something Buck doesn’t have the time to dissect right now.

"Likewise," he manages to choke out. His skin feels like it's being crawled by ants.

“Miss Flores,” Christopher interrupts, and the three adults turn to look at him in the shopping cart, “Buck is the one who saved me from the tsunami!”

Buck’s stomach drops, suddenly

“Sure, sweetie,” she replies lightly- and God should strike him with lightning if that dismissal didn't make his blood boil- then turns back to Eddie as if Buck wasn’t there, and asks “He’s your best friend, right?”

Eddie bites his lip, his eyes flicker to Buck. He nods, silently communicating that he’s okay with whatever Eddie comes up with to protect them. Buck knows Eddie is not ready to come out publicly, and they decided to keep it inside the family for now- Christopher knows they are together, but they also had a very extensive conversation about what that meant and about talking to other people about their relationship. Their kid is amazing, and they never ask him to lie about their family- but Christopher does understand that his dad needs to be the one to tell people, for now. Buck would never let Eddie hide anything from his son or make him believe that there is anything wrong with their relationship and that it is something to be ashamed of.

Buck trusts Eddie, and that’s all that matters.

“Yeah, no, actually, we’re together now,” Eddie says, twisting the plastic bag he’d been holding in his hands nervously, “Buck is my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Ana’s face falls, and Buck’s heart speeds up. She looks nervously between the two of them, before settling in Buck again, only a trace of her fake smile left. “I’m happy for you, guys.”

“Thank you,” he utters, completely at lost for words- this is the last thing he expected. “We’re really happy.”

“Buck is the best!” Christopher says, tugging on Buck’s hand, so he lets go of the shopping cart handle to hold his small hand back. Looking down at the kid and his warm smile, every insecurity he has ever had vanishing and replaced by the overwhelming love he feels for him. The way Christopher loves him is something no one could ever take away.

He looks up, finding Eddie's eyes, giving him one of those looks, all soft and fond. It makes Buck feel seen, not just because Eddie had come out to his ex-girlfriend in the middle of a grocery store. They smile at each other, and for a second nothing else exists in their little bubble.

“Wow, yeah, I think- I think I better leave you to it,” Ana twists a curl behind her ear and clears her throat, breaking the spell.

“It was nice to see you, Ana,” Eddie replies with a relaxed smile, steps around the cart, and slides an arm around Buck’s waist. His chest swells with pride, he’s not ashamed to say he loves that Eddie feels comfortable enough to show not only Ana but everyone else around them that Buck is his partner. Buck leans into his boyfriend's hold, smiles brightly at the woman in front of him.

And, well, if he’s also enjoying the fact that Eddie is showing him off to his ex… well, that’s his business and no one else’s.

“You too, Edmundo. Take care,” and with one last smile and wave, she’s gone.

Buck lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the last knots in his stomach dissolving. He turns to Eddie and what he sees is probably the most adorable thing ever- a blush spreads all the way from Eddie’s neck and cheeks, avoiding Buck’s eyes, checking out the label of Buck’s pasta.

“What was that?” he asks smugly, just to pick on Eddie. He’s so fucking proud of his boyfriend right now, but he’s going to take advantage of his flustered state, or his name isn’t Evan Buckley.

“Well, you’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” Eddie retorts, still not looking up, and Buck shares a glance with Christopher, who has turned in his seat and is covering his mouth as he giggles, and winks. Sneaking a hand around Eddie’s neck, he pulls him closer and places a wet smooch on his flushed cheek, mwah sound included.

“Gross, daddy!” Chris laughs, and Buck exchanges a look with Eddie- both thinking the same, a mischievous glint in their eyes- and instantly lean down to attack their kid with kisses all over his face.

Right here, Buck decides he doesn’t want big, public declarations of love or expensive gifts. Just this, their family, the reassurance of his hand on his waist and spending time together in something as mundane as grocery shopping with Christopher. Taking small steps together- coming out one person at a time, making Eddie feel safe enough to do it, to even hold him and kiss him in public.

This is all he needs.

-

taglist: @buddiextarlos @eddie-diass @sunbeambuck @twofirefighterdads @justsmilestuffhappens @firefighterhan @agenderbuckley @allison-usn126

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away pt. 5

Title // Washed Away pt. 5

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of death and a missing kid.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 2.5k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is the final part of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog​​​ @coffeewithoutcaffeine​​​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​​​ @chenfordlove​​​ @comeasyoudar​​​ @carnationworld​​​ @averyhotchner​ @evanbuckos​​

The sun had set. The day was over, but that doesn’t mean the situation is. You and Buck had been wading through the water for hours, heading to the last place someone said they saw Christopher.

Exhaustion was starting to settle in. You were sore all over too. It felt like you just finished running up and down a flight of stairs non-stop while carrying a bookbag full of weights. Your shoulders hurt, your legs felt like they were going to give out any time soon, and your body was so dehydrated from soaking up and drinking in a lot of saltwater that you pretty much felt delirious.

Finally, civilization was within reach.

A makeshift help spot was set up near the bakery where you and Buck were headed. Water bottles were being passed out and you reached out to grab one. How could something so common look so precious, like it was made of gold?

You twisted off the cap and downed half of it in three big gulps and handed the rest of it to Buck. He finished off the water, nearly gasping for breath by the end. He was exhausted too. You didn’t even know how long you two were walking and the little help was most appreciated.

The people around you looked worse for wear. You couldn’t imagine the struggles they went through to try and save themselves or what their story could be. You were sure it was similar. Everyone lost someone or something in the tsunami and you knew it was going to be hard to get over that.

Then again, did you really want to?

The whole event gave you a new outlook on life and appreciate what you have. You didn’t appreciate your job enough, but you were grateful now. You were a school nurse and you realized you love those kids that you looked after. You loved Christopher, having seen him and checked on him many times thanks to his worrisome father, and it would break your heart to never see that little boy again.

Now is not the time to think about those things. You didn’t know for sure. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.

For a moment, Buck swore he saw Christopher. He saw a little boy clinging to the leg of some woman, and he let out a relieved sigh, only for his eyes to play tricks on him. It wasn’t Christopher at all.

“Mister, are you okay? You’re bleeding,” a nearby passerby said, and Buck glanced down at his hand.

Sure enough, he was.

There was a cut of some kind, and the two of you didn’t even realize it. You frowned, mentally kicking yourself and cursing yourself out for not realizing Buck’s injury. The ex-firefighter sat down, looking worse for wear and you grabbed his hand carefully while examining it.

You ripped off a strip of your shirt to use as a bandage and Buck’s eyes sort of glazed over. Due to his adrenaline, he probably wasn’t feeling any pain.

“What am I gonna do?” Buck whispered as you tended to him, “how am I gonna tell Eddie?”

You said nothing, because you knew whatever you did say wouldn’t exactly be helpful. However, you were there. Side by side, you were there with Buck and Christopher today and everything Buck did was for that little boy. You never seen someone care so much the way Buck does. He has such a good heart and for once, you were hoping against hope that things would work out in his favor. He didn’t deserve this.

After a bit of a break, including some water to get both of your heads on straight, you two were back to the grind. This time, you didn’t have to walk for long.

There was an old mall or hospital, you couldn’t be sure, that somehow turned into a makeshift triage center not too far from where you and Buck were. The two of you practically dashed over to the building and its tents, being careful since there wasn’t a lot of strength left between you.

Buck was looking in the beds, glancing around for anyone that even remotely passed Christopher. You hijacked a few clipboards, searching for Christopher’s name anywhere you can but you both came up empty.

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me,” Buck began talking to you and you could hear the defeat in his voice. It sounded like he was fighting the feeling of giving up, but he was on the cusp. “He thought it would get me out of my apartment and… out of my head. And you know what I did? I brought him to the pier. I had him, I kept him safe. And then the three of us were on top of the ladder truck and the water receded, and for a moment I felt like I got this. I had you, I had Christopher, and we would be fine. And now Christopher is gone. We checked everywhere. And now I realize I failed. I’m a failure no matter how you look at it.”

You could hear your heart cracking as you listened to him, and you knew nothing you said would change his mind. He was beating himself up over this situation. He did everything he could, and he was still handed the short end of the stick.

Finding Christopher at the makeshift hospital was the last bit of hope he had and now it was gone. You could see the defeat that wavered in his voice and how it hid behind his eyes.

And if that didn’t help the situation, there was Eddie Diaz, tending to a few patients himself. He wore blue latex gloves, had the navy fire uniform on, and was directing a few people into the hospital. Buck nearly choked back a sob as the realization of what to do next was hitting him faster than a wall of bricks.

He had to tell Eddie, and you were going to be right by his side when he did.

However, Buck dashed behind a white tent, pulling you along with him. Turns out he wanted to hide instead of face Christopher’s father.

“Buck,” you said slowly. Your voice was hoarse from lack of water and from shouting Christopher’s name all afternoon with Buck. You felt like your vocal cords were ripped to shreds at this point, but you soldiered on. Now was not the time to accept defeat. “You have to tell him.”

“How?” Buck answered as he looked at you. His hand slowly slipped into your own, and you squeezed his fingers tightly. “How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

“He’s his father. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing,” you said, knowing this was the only chance he had right now.

Buck shook his head, not wanting to hear it. “No, I need to keep looking for him. I need to find him.”

One of your hands instinctively went up to the side of Buck’s face, caressing him lightly. You still couldn’t believe the man in front of you wasn’t giving up just yet, even though maybe he should. You hated the train of thought you were currently on, but Buck was exhausted, and he lost some blood. Plus, it didn’t help that he was severely dehydrated, much like yourself. The two of you were in no condition to continue searching. You probably wouldn’t make it if you tried. You both needed to rest up and regain your strength.

“Buck,” you heard the voice before you saw who it belonged to and your head whipped around to see Eddie. The man was heading outside to continue helping and he looked a bit surprised to see his best friend standing there. Then his eyes fell on you, and the look of surprise seemed to double. “Nurse Y/N, what are you both doing here? Are you okay? Wait, where’s Christopher?”

There was no time to prepare a giant speech. Eddie Diaz was right there in front of you both, and it was now or never. You let go of Buck as you turned to face the father of one of your favorite patients, ready for what was about to happen. This was a conversation you were dreading, and you couldn’t imagine the internal conflicts Buck must be going through as he mustered up the courage to say what happened.

“Eddie…” Buck interjected in between Eddie’s many questions, and the army vet stopped talking.

For a moment, the two best friends stared at each other, like Buck was hoping Eddie would get the hint without saying anything, but you knew that would be the cowardly way out. If there was one thing you learned today, it was that Buck was not a coward. Not now, not ever.

“Me and Christopher… we were at the beach, and I swear to you…” Buck was choking on his words and you squeezed his hand again for support.

Eddie was nodding, trying to understand, but the look on his face was heartbreaking. It was like if he didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true.

“I tried… and I just… but I… Eddie, I just don’t know how to say it. Um, he… he um…” Buck couldn’t get through it. He was stumbling over the words and Eddie’s eyes were brimming with the threat of tears as Buck tried to get the words out.

What made it even worse was that Eddie couldn’t even look at Buck. The army vet was looking behind his best friend, like he needed to avoid eye contact with what Buck was saying.

“Christopher?” Eddie questioned softly, like he needed clearance on what Buck was saying, but your gaze followed Eddie’s. A woman had stepped off a truck, carrying a small child. Your heart almost stopped, and you pulled on Buck’s arm to get him to stop talking.

Eddie slowly walked past you and Buck, and he approached the woman. Slowly, Buck turned around to follow Eddie feeling like this was Eddie’s way of coping with denial.

“Christopher?” Eddie called again, and like music to your ears, you heard the little boy shout for his dad.

The woman was carrying Christopher the entire time, bringing him to safety. Tears exploding out of your eyes once you realized what was going on and you stole a glance at Buck. Buck looked elated, like he was about to cry from relief as well. Christopher was alive and in Eddie’s arms, and there was no greater feeling than that.

“Buck, what happened to you?”

Suddenly, the fire crew of Station 118 popped into view. You didn’t know them personally, but you could venture a guess who from all the stories Christopher was told you during his visits to your little office at the school.

Captain Bobby Nash stood in front of the two of you, and he looked deeply concerned. He looked back and forth from you to Buck before asking, “Are you two okay?”

However, your exhaustion was caving in, along with Buck’s. The two of you practically collapsed to the floor and the fire family scrambled to hold onto both of you. That was the last thing you remembered, passing out next to Buck in the arms of his old crew.

It took a while, but the city was in clean up mode. You and Buck had a nice, extended stay at the hospital, hooked up to fluids and oxygen before given a clean bill of health. You were discharged first, since Buck had some lacerations that needed stitching up but the two of you texted nonstop while he regained his strength.

You went back to your job as the nurse at the elementary school, although you also became sort of a guidance counselor to the kids. Turns out, when you were checking for lice or fevers, they needed someone to talk to and you could just relate to them in a way. You were a familiar face in all the chaos, someone they needed to hold onto in order to make sense of things.

Christopher’s appointments never stopped either. In fact, they seemed to be increasing, only because Christopher wanted to talk to you and hang out with you.

“Honestly Eddie, he’s doing fine,” you spoke to Eddie on the phone about his son. You were sitting at your desk, making your daily calls to parents and Eddie Diaz was no stranger to the phone calls. “He’s in good spirits. Nothing is wrong with him, he’s pretty perfect.”

“You know, I never got to thank you,” Eddie’s voice crackled in your ear, “for what you did. Christopher told me how you and Buck saved him, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

The two of you hung up, although there was promises of talking tomorrow. Talking to Eddie was a recurring thing in your life at this point, and you could use the stability.

“Knock knock,” a head peeked into your office, “these came for you.”

The secretary opened your door and placed a bouquet of colorful roses on you desk. There was a white card attached, looking strikingly clean in the middle of the rainbow of flowers.

You pulled off the card and it only said two words.

Come Outside.

Curiously, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope, draping it around your neck. You never went anywhere without it now, and you weren’t sure what kind of situation you were getting yourself into. You rounded a corner and pushed open the heavy steel door that led to the front of the school. There, standing in all his glory, was Evan Buckley with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“Thank you very much for the flowers,” you said as you smiled at him in return. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out of the hospital. I would’ve sent you some breakfast or something.”

“That’s part of the surprise. So, surprise!” Buck said happily as he approached you.

You just smiled at him, letting his arms snake around your waist as he hugged you tightly. Your arms draped around his neck and it felt so good. It felt familiar.

As you pulled away, you were greeted with something else. Buck, with no hesitation whatsoever, leaned in and captured your lips in a sudden and welcomed kiss. It was all you wanted, all you were waiting for, and you let yourself melt into his arms as he kissed you with such force and determination, you knew you would be a puddle of goo by the end of it.

“Let me take you out on a date,” Buck whispered against your lips, his lips brushing over yours with each and every word, “a real one this time. Just me and you.”

Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest and you couldn’t manage to bring any words out. Instead, you nodded as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This was all you wanted. You’ve never been happier. You finally had the moment you wanted with Buck and now, a date on the horizon. With your luck, it would be the first of many, you were sure of it. There was no way you were going to let this man go, ever.