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team-118 · 28 days ago

Text

chemical override

2.4k words, buddie, buckley-diaz family, first kiss, getting together (for realsies this time!), rated t

With blonde curls and sparkling blue eyes over a criminally well-fitted red suit, he could almost be mistaken for Buck, if not for the way he takes Eddie in, slow and savoring it. When their eyes meet, Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

Two strangers meet at an LAFD celebration themed as a masquerade ball. They already know everything about each other.

read it on ao3.

for @prettysophist from the halloween prompt list for the prompt 'masks'

Despite what recent events might lead you to believe, Eddie does actually know that he's attractive. He's never really leaned into it, but he’s not unaware.

Unlike Buck, who is unaware. Buck who broke up with Tommy alarmingly quickly once Eddie quietly mentioned his sexuality at breakfast with the 118 two weeks ago. Who had dinner warm and waiting on the table when Eddie flew back from El Paso, Christopher in tow, one week ago. Who kissed Christopher's forehead and hugged him as tight as Eddie had as soon as he saw his son again, who met Eddie’s gaze over Chris's disgruntled head. For a split second, Eddie had almost let the thought in. Maybe Buck…him and Buck…and then the moment passed, and then a week passed, and nothing happened.

And listen, it's been two weeks. Actually, it's been at least six months. Well, if he's honest, it's probably been something like seven years, and if it isn't going to happen, Eddie will get over it. If Buck isn't attracted to him - if Buck doesn't want him - that doesn't actually change anything.

At least, that's what Eddie tells himself as he takes a razor to his mustache, gentle but vicious, and gets himself dressed. Sharp line of his shoulders, deep red shirt complementing his skin, and Carla even helps him out with his hair, because she's better than Eddie could ever compensate her for.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she holds her hand out for a high five from Christopher. “Not bad, hm?” she asks him.

Eddie poses with his hands out, eyebrows raised.

“Don't do that,” Christopher says immediately. He hands Eddie the masquerade mask that matches his suit. “And don't forget this.” Chris leans into Carla, returning her high five before fixing Eddie with a stern look. His smile gives him away, though. “Win something cool, Dad.”

“Yessir,” Eddie salutes, and then it's hugs and kisses and out the door.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Buck wishes Eddie were here. Doesn't matter how cool the staff events at the LAFD get (ha), they're always better with his best friend next to him. Buck got tickets way late, though, and he’s sure Eddie is busy with Chris tonight anyway. After Eddie came out, after El Paso, Buck didn't see the point in lying to himself anymore. He thought…well, if there was any time for them to finally fall together, it seemed like the right one. But Buck wasn't going to pressure Eddie into anything, especially on the heels of the summer they just had. And when Eddie didn't make a move, Buck tried to get it through his head: he doesn't want you. He doesn't.

But Buck wants Eddie. Buck wants Eddie smiling over dinner, wants him sitting across from Christopher, wants him next to Buck at staff events, wants him everywhere and every way he isn't.

So he slips into a suit he hasn't even seen since poker with Eddie, he spends entirely too much time on his hair, he pulls the masquerade mask over his eyes and challenges himself to thirty consecutive seconds of thinking about literally anything except Eddie for the night.

It's not going well.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

It's almost impressive how quickly Eddie gets used to the mask. Then again - he contemplates the last twenty something years of his life and almost wants to laugh, morbidly - maybe it isn't. Unlike the one he's been wearing his whole life, though, this mask is freeing. He could be anybody, in a crowd of anybodies - but he's Eddie, and he knows it so well now, sees the full picture so clearly. He catches his reflection in the doorway, and he feels powerful.

The LAFD's Recognition of Excellence awards are held in some lavish building in downtown LA this fall. Eddie thinks the masquerade ball theme is kind of cheesy, but he does have to admit that the crowd showed up and showed out. Light refracts through crystal and bounces off the metallic masks packed into the massive ballroom, making everything feel brighter.

“Damn, if I'd known the competition was this steep, I'd have tried a little harder,” a voice drawls from behind him.

Eddie turns, looks the man up and down. With blonde curls and sparkling blue eyes over a criminally well-fitted red suit, he could almost be mistaken for Buck, if not for the way he takes Eddie in, slow and savoring it. When their eyes meet, Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

“No competition here,” Eddie replies evenly. Then he takes a deep breath, lets himself say what he's thinking. “And if this is low effort for you, I'm in trouble.”

Red Suit's smile turns a little wicked. “You can have as much effort as you'd like.”

Fucking hell. Eddie clears his throat. “You're a firefighter?”

“What, you think I snuck in?”

Even his laugh sounds like Buck’s, but darker, coloured by whatever the hell is happening between them right now. Eddie’s so fucked. “Just trying to judge how hard I'll need to work to impress you.”

Red suit gets closer. “Stick with me tonight, let's find out.”

What the hell. Eddie grabs his hand and pulls him to the bar.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Buck spotted the guy the second he walked in - the lethal cut of his pants, shoulders set with the easy confidence of someone who knows he belongs. When he turns at Buck's words, Buck blinks away the image of Eddie. He drinks in the warm brown eyes and feels himself slipping into a comfortable, old stance. Someone Eddie never had the chance to meet. Thirty fucking seconds, he reminds himself, and lets himself be dragged to the bar.

Brown Eyes is a remarkably good distraction, so long as Buck doesn't let himself think about why the first guy who caught his attention could be Eddie’s identical twin. He keeps pace with Buck, pushes and pulls deliciously until all Buck can feel is the warmth of the lights, the crowd, the brown eyes on his body. He pops another button loose. Sue him.

“Craziest call,” he challenges, leaning forward to keep that warm gaze on him.

He's met with a huff, an exasperated kind of laugh. It sounds like Eddie’s. Buck loves it. “There was that plane landing on the highway last month.”

“No shit?” Buck asks. “We were there, too.”

“Yeah? Maybe we passed each other by.”

“Talk about fate.”

Brown Eyes snorts. “Half the LAFD was there.”

“And you're the only one here now.”

“Arguably, half the LAFD is here, too.”

This guy. Buck laughs, despite himself. “Let me have this, man.”

“Oh, sure,” his new friend smirks, and Buck wants to bite the corner of it. “Take what you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

When the stranger looks up, his eyes are dark and a little wild under his mask. His cheeks are flushed, and it matches the mask so well. Buck wants to know if it extends under the mask. If it extends anywhere else. There's a little mole under his eye. Fuck, when did they get so close? They're nose to nose. Buck can hear his own heartbeat.

“I'll risk it,” the stranger breathes, and he hesitates for a second longer, opening his mouth to speak.

Buck kisses his next words right off his tongue.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Eddie’s already pushing Red Suit up against the pristine marble bathroom counter by the time his brain comes back online.

As far as ideas go, he's had better - making out with a colleague whose name he hasn't bothered to learn at the edge of a staff event probably doesn't make the top ten. But then broad hands are covering his shoulders, pulling him close, and when long legs hook around Eddie’s hips he kind of forgets to worry about it.

The man under him gives as good as he gets. Eddie pulls back to study his partner’s face, black masquerade mask striking against the thin ring of blue surrounding his blown irises. His lips are spit-slick and shiny, panting. He looks so much like Buck - the thought appears again - and Eddie’s stomach does a fucking somersault. Eddie pulls him in closer by the sides of his face, brushing the fluffy curls off his forehead briefly. He catches a tiny glimpse of pink.

“Take this off,” Red Suit groans, tugging at Eddie's buttons.

Eddie laughs. “Easy, tiger,” he placates, reaching up to get his partner's suit off first. He pulls the jacket off, revealing a tight black shirt to match the mask, sleeves rolled to the forearms. Red Suit reaches for Eddie, gets his shirt unbuttoned enough for the chain around his neck to slip out.

And then three things happen in quick succession.

“Wait,” Eddie says, hands going still as he recognizes the black band tattooed on the arm under him.

“Oh, fuck me,” Buck breathes as Eddie’s St. Christopher pendant lands on his half-bare chest.

“...for extraordinary partnership and exceptional teamwork in times of duress, Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley!” Chief Simpson’s voice booms over a microphone in the distance. There's a smattering of applause, fading into confused silence.

Eddie stares into his best friend’s wide eyes - his best friend, whose tongue was just recently down his fucking throat - and his mouth drops open. “I,” he starts.

Buck gapes back at him. “You shaved your fucking mustache?”

“Buck,” Eddie tries again. He can't remember how to make words form.

“Without telling me?” Buck screeches.

“Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley,” Chief Simpson calls over the microphone again. “That's weird, I have them both RSVP’d,” comes quieter.

Eddie reboots. “Oh my god,” he gasps. He pulls at Buck’s jacket helplessly, trying to tug it back over his shoulders. “Oh my god, Buck, we have to get out there.”

Buck’s still frozen. “But when did you…?”

“Buck!” Eddie grabs his face, looks him square in the eyes. Buck’s breath stutters. Eddie releases him just as quickly, cheeks burning. “Put your jacket on. I am not facing half the department like this.”

He watches Buck’s vision clear, sees him come back online. “Oh, shit.”

As they stumble out the door, Eddie catches a glimpse of them in the bathroom mirror. Hair wild, eyes wilder, shirts rucked up and wearing matching blushes, there's nothing inconspicuous about them.

Eddie grins so wide his cheeks hurt as he pushes his best friend onstage.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Buck bites the inside of his cheek to make sure he isn't having some kind of fucked up hallucination-nightmare-dream, and then there's a mic in his face and a spotlight in his eyes.

“Thank you, Chief Simpson,” he says like his heart isn't in his throat. “Eddie and I have spent years building and strengthening our partnership. We are forever grateful to our LAFD family for their part in…”

Honestly, he blacks out a little, after that. He adds some stuff about the 118, pulls something out of his ass about taking pride in their work, and tries not to make his heart eyes too obvious. He doesn't look at Eddie, but he is so incredibly aware of him.

Buck stumbles off the stage, who knows how many minutes later, and by the time he’s outside the venue he's dizzy. He looks around, but he can't find-

“Buck.”

He whirls around. “Eddie.”

They sit heavily on the cold stone steps in front of the building. Their shoulders are inches apart. Buck’s never felt further from Eddie.

“Listen,” he starts. “We can just- I'll Uber home, and we don't have to talk about it again, I'll just-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, soft but firm. He turns, goes to put his hand on Buck's shoulder, then keeps reaching up.

“Man,” he laughs lightly. “Can I take this thing off?”

When Buck nods, Eddie lifts Buck’s mask over his eyes until it rests on top of his head. Eddie tugs his own mask off, too.

“Come home with me,” Eddie tells him.

“Eds-”

“It wasn't an accident, Buck. I mean, if I'd known…” he trails off. “I just didn't think you were interested.”

Buck laughs incredulously. “‘Cause I've been so casual about it?”

Eddie's smile is wry. “You've never been as forward as you were tonight.”

“I was trying to give you time,” Buck says weakly, pulling his knees under his chin. “I didn't want to scare you off.”

“You could never. Buck, you could never.” Eddie promises. “Not after this long.”

“I just - I thought you wanted -”

Eddie gets his finger under Buck’s chin, tilts it up towards him, and Buck loses his breath again. Framed by the stars and the sparkling building behind them, cheeks flushed from the cold, Eddie’s so fucking beautiful. He’s Buck's best friend. He’s Buck’s whole life. “What do you want?” Eddie asks.

“This,” Buck whispers. “This, forever.”

Eddie smiles. He's everything, he's fucking everything.

“What about you?” Buck says, braver. “What do you want?”

And oh, that's easy. “You,” Eddie grins.

When Eddie leans in again, Buck watches his brown eyes melt until his own flutter closed. Without the masks in the way, the kiss burns Buck to his core, warmth spreading through him like hot chocolate. Eddie’s in his veins.

It takes them ten minutes longer than it should to get home, because Buck keeps kissing Eddie senseless at the red lights.

🎭 • 🎭 • 🎭

Carla greets Eddie with a hug and Buck with a kiss on the cheek.

“Come by more often,” she insists, and Buck grins.

“I think I will,” he tells her.

“You two stayed out of trouble?” She asks Eddie on her way out.

“Don't we always?” He replies, innocent as ever. She laughs all the way down the driveway.

Eddie kisses Buck once more, chaste, just to see him turn pink. He laces their fingers together and pulls him towards Chris's room.

When Chris says to come in, he's already in bed, lights dimmed and Percy Jackson book hastily pushed under his pillow.

“Better not be reading ahead without me,” Buck says, kissing his forehead and pulling the book away.

“Hey, Buck,” Chris smiles. He doesn't look surprised to see Buck, but then again, why would he? “I was rereading, I swear.”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you win something cool, Dad?”

Eddie laughs, kneeling next to Buck. “Sure did, bud.”

“Good,” Chris yawns. “Tell me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“Night, Dad. Night, Buck,” Chris manages, and then he's out like a light.

Eddie steps out and closes the door behind them. Buck starts for the couch, but Eddie grabs his hand.

“Come on,” Eddie insists. He pulls them into his bedroom, Buck trailing behind.

Eddie stops in his tracks. “Shit, wait,” he says, and Buck freezes.

Eddie reaches into Buck’s jacket pocket and pulls out their two masquerade masks. “Okay, all set,” he smiles brightly.

“Oh my god,” Buck pushes him into the bedroom, muffling his laughter in the nape of Eddie’s neck. He kisses the giggles and half-baked defenses out of Eddie’s mouth - and then he spends the rest of the night figuring out what else he can elicit from Eddie.

#911 abc #911 8x05 #kinda lol this is like if i took 8.05s general concept and name and did whatever the fuck i wanted to it #911 fic #911 fic rec #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #team writes fic #prompt fic #911 prompt fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ok perfect it is a beautiful 405 in the fucking morning and my brain is giving out on me and ive never felt more alive #remember how last time i was like enhhh i don't likeee it don't loooookkk at it? this time you have to look. this time i love it so bad #so please yell with me. im excited lol #also omg prettysophist i am SO sorry i know your prompt included magic and i just decided. to give up completely #but i got a different magic prompt that i will certainly write which will be great fun #ok bye now! gn!

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