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little-golden-age · 2 years ago

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Double-Take | Bucky Barnes

DOUBLE TAKE📸 Photographer!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your photographer boyfriend Bucky watches you doing your yoga routine one morning and gets ✨inspired✨

Word Count: ~1,800

Warnings: smut 18+ (minors DNI), Insatiable Bucky, Oral (f receiving) PinV, Praise Kink, Bucky being hot? idk. A/N: my first (and probably only) fic. I love reading domestic-ish Bucky fluff + smut. This concept popped into my head and I couldn’t find one to read, so I wrote one.

It was a crisp spring morning in Brooklyn. You had just finished making some tea to start the day when you noticed the warm light streaming in through the window. It was perfect out! You took a sip of your drink and sighed in contentment, making your way to your yoga mat spread out in the living room. You always enjoyed getting a morning stretch in. Maintaining a regular yoga practice helped to ease your mind and ground yourself to start the day. Your boyfriend, Bucky, rarely joined you in your movements but he loved your daily practice too, for slightly different reasons.

As you walked past the couch you greeted him with a soft peck. He watched intently as you lowered yourself onto the mat and began moving through cat and cow pose, golden light tracing over your curves. You were wearing that tight little short set that he loved and your hair was pulled back into a delicate braid, small wisps dusting beautifully over your temples. You looked angelic–especially from this angle.

“See something you like, Barnes?” Pausing your routine to look up at him. Your tone was flirty, soft eyes never leaving his as you maneuvered yourself into a particularly appealing pose. Hearing nothing in return but still feeling his eyes on you, you called out to him again. “Why don’t you take a picture Buck, it’ll last longer” you chimed sarcastically, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. Letting out a small chuckle, he quietly darted over to his camera collection, grabbing a small polaroid model off of the shelf. "Ask and you shall receive, darlin’.”

Bucky found photography as his creative outlet shortly before you met him. He loved describing his photographs to you, what attracted him to each subject. How one photo could capture a single moment in time but still tell a thousand stories all at once. Eventually, other galleries and media outlets caught onto his work too and it became his career. You were so proud of him, you loved his work. Sometimes you even joked that he loved his cameras more than he loved you but you both knew deep down that you were Bucky’s one true muse. A few of his portraits of you even made it into some galleries, but he kept a special collection of photos just for himself to look back on with fondness.

Bucky came bounding back into the room, camera in hand and you couldn’t help but giggle. His excitement was palpable and adorable, you figured you’d humor him for a while. Tracking him through side glances, you watched as he moved around your body slowly appreciating the shapes and curves you created with each pose. The faintest sheen of sweat causing your skin to sparkle in the morning sunlight.

There was always a satisfying sense of calm with Bucky. You felt comfortable with him from the day you met. After your first date walking through the exhibits at the Whitney, you two became inseparable. He showed you his favorite parts of the city, you kept him updated on arts and culture. Bucky’s friends became your friends, your friends adored him and after just a few months you decided to move in together, finding the perfect light-filled loft.

Throughout getting to know each other, and especially when christening your new place, you couldn’t help but notice that Bucky was particularly insatiable when it came to you. Ever the gentleman, your pleasure was important to him and he always treated your body like a work of art; which is why you were quick to notice the not-so-subtle bulge growing in his pants as you moved through a series of hip openers on your mat. You smiled to yourself, teasing him a little as you continued to work through your routine as if nothing was happening. You didn’t miss how his breath caught slightly when you twisted into a particularly suggestive position–Compass Pose, his favorite. It was over for him whenever you did it.

Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Bucky set his camera down and stepped closer to you. Kneeling behind you, he ran one hand along your thigh and grazed your exposed ankle with his lips, landing a soft kiss just above your achilles. “Buck.” You warned slyly, “You have that call with the gallery in 15 minutes, don’t start something you can’t finish, Barnes.”

You lowered your leg away from him with a wink but he simply wasn’t listening. Moving you onto your back, Bucky basically had you pinned now--exactly where you wanted him if you were being honest. Tongue jutting out to wet his lips as slate blue eyes zeroed in on your supple mouth, he leaned down until your noses nearly touched.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You know--I bet I could devour your sweet little pussy right here on this mat and still be ready for that call in time.”

Your heart rate spiked as he looked right at you, pupils blown wide. You felt yourself clench around nothing as a tender silence fell over the room. A cocky grin that rivaled the cheshire cat spread across Bucky’s face as he advanced on you, fingers caressing your partially exposed thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, hm? Let me make you feel good?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact as he pulled your soft shorts down your legs, planting kisses in his wake. Bucky’s eyebrow raised slightly as he noted your lack of underwear. Moving swiftly, his soft tongue finds your already dripping core, placing perfectly timed strokes up your folds and over your sensitive bud as you panted in ecstasy.

“Already so wet for me, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Deep, powerful moans left Bucky’s mouth as you pulled at his hair rode his face, taking everything you had to give him.

“P-please Buck. More. Want t-to feel you.” you chanted breathlessly.

Bucky sat up, “Yeah baby?” He grinned slyly. “You feeling needy this morning, huh? Want my cock in you?” All you could do was nod as he moved you both up from your mat over to the couch, stopping briefly to pick something up off of the floor. Standing over you, Bucky moved his hand down your cheek, thumb finding its way past your full lips. With complete adoration in his eyes, he lifted the polaroid camera once more. Aiming the lens right at your blissed out face.

“Look here baby, right at me. That’s it. Look at you. My pretty girl, All mine.”

Sparks erupted from your core as he snapped away praising you as he worked. After a few more flashes, you were growing impatient. “Buck, please.” you whimper, reaching up for him “I n-need you now.”

He set the camera back down, smiling before placing a soft kiss on your palm and moving your hand to feel his aching length. “I got you baby, c’mere. Got me so fucking hard for you.” You watched with bated breath as he moved to toss his shirt aside and started on his pants. You swore you could watch him undress that beautiful body of his again and again, forever and ever, on repeat.

Your heart thumped hard in your chest and you felt yourself getting wetter as his thick cock came into view. Jerking himself slowly, he hovered down over you and ran his tip along your folds, teasing you a bit. “This what you needed, baby? Doing all of those slutty little poses, teasing me from across the room.” He spreads your thighs farther apart, getting another good look at your glistening folds. “So pretty,” he groans when he notices you smiling up at him, ready and willing to take his length.

He sinks into you slowly, filthy lips grazing over your ear as he uses all of his strength not to plow you with force. “GOD–y/n, you feel so fucking good. Made to take my cock.” He shudders, grabbing ahold of your hand tightly and giving you a moment to adjust to his size, making sure you take every inch of him.

He moves in and out of you with precision. Savoring every movement, feeling you inch closer to your edge when suddenly, it happens–he hits that perfect spot inside of your tight wet heat and feels you clench down immediately before gasping a strangled “ohgodyes, Buck–”

Bucky’s eyes meet yours and you can’t help but notice a fire alight inside of his pupils “Yeah, you like that?” He grins proudly.

“You gonna cum for me, angel? Squeezing me so hard” he chokes out. Sweat glistening off of your bodies, vulgar sounds and high-pitched moans creating a perfect melody along the walls of your apartment. The smell of sex wafting in the morning air. “Let go baby, show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my cock.”

Your peak hits you almost immediately, crashing through every muscle in your body as you fall deeper into ecstasy. You nearly squeal as Bucky suddenly flips you back into reality, moving you on top of him, fucking up into you from below. Oh, he’s extra insatiable today. You steady yourself as he slides a hand down your back and palms your ass, tapping once lightly then again, a little harder as you cry out, trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“One more baby, come on. You can take it, you can take what I give you, yeah?” Bucky’s desperate now. You look down at him, wide-eyed but he’s too busy pawing your tits and pulling at your sensitive nipples. He’s not stopping until you’re both satisfied.

“Give me another. That’s a good girl. C’mon let me feel you sweetheart.”

His cool metal thumb finds your clit at the perfect moment as yet another orgasm rips through you. “B-Bu-Buck! Ohmygod!” Your hips move wildly as your pussy gushes and you lean down to nip at his shoulder, leaving little marks as Bucky begins to chase his own high.

“I know baby, I know. FUCK–You feel like heaven. Never want to leave this pussy. Hold onto me.” Your bodies sync up and you both come crashing down together. As your breathing slows, Bucky pulls you close and starts peppering kisses down your neck and chest. “Always such a good girl for me. Angel.” he lowers you onto the couch, holding your back into his chest as your lids fall heavy and you drift off into a pleasant haze of satisfaction.

You finally come to a minute later, feeling a pair of lips gently pressing against your temple. A lazy smile plastered to your face as you watch Bucky make his way over to the kitchen island, plucking his t-shirt off of the back of the couch and putting it on as he opens up his laptop and joins his work call.

“Sorry I’m a couple of minutes late guys, appreciate you waiting for me. I’m feeling really inspired this morning, so let’s get started!”

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kitweewoos · 2 months ago

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Okay, new ask game! Top three dates you'd love to see Buck and Tommy go on 🥰

Number one is a Picnic - Buck makes them a meal and packs it into a basket with some wine glasses and a bottle of sparkling cider, and leads Tommy into a park. He sets up a blanket and sets out their food - it's a bunch of finger food that they can feed each other - and they sit up against each other while they share lunch and talk about their morning and the long week they'd had, and just enough a quiet afternoon and enjoy the breeze and sunshine without any interruption.

Number two is Paintball - They like to have fun, too, so one time, they sign up for a session at a paintball course one night. Tommy doesn't need to help Buck into his vest, but he pulls Buck's vest tight around him and kisses him while he buckles it. Tommy is better at aiming, but Buck is faster and sneakier, so they're pretty evenly matched, because Buck is capable of surprising Tommy more often. They laugh, and the stresses of their life just melts away.

Number three is some kind of paint 'n sip or ceramics class they take together - Tommy is secretly a creative guy, who doesn't like to show it often, but Buck asks to see something Tommy doesn't share with anyone. So, Tommy takes him to an art class where they make each other something, laughing and getting dirty, and at the end of the date, they get to take home each other's art, and Buck displays it proudly in his loft and tells everyone about it who sees it.

#911 #bucktommy #tevan #Kinkley #Evan Buckley #Tommy Kinard #ask tag #talk to me #thatmexisaurusrex

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half-oz-eddie · 3 months ago

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Okay, new ask game! Top three dates you'd love to see Buck and Tommy go on 🥰

Hi Mexi ♡

Escape Room Date (I just think it would be fun for them and I want to see them work together solving all the puzzles. They're both really smart and work well under pressure, so I think it would be a fun way to see them work together as a team, and I think they'd both love it.)

Paint and Sip (They like wine, add a little painting to it. I think they'd have a nice time! Buck would be amazed by how talented Tommy is, and Tommy finds Buck's paintings endearing. He always wants to hang Buck's paintings but not his own, so Buck takes Tommy's home to the loft, hangs them up and brags to everyone about where he got the new, pricey looking art pieces from.)

An amusement park date! (Let them play some games, win silly prizes, let out their inner kids and have some innocent fun! Tommy can take Buck to the arcade and show him how an 80s baby gets the high score Pac-Man. When he adds his initials (TLK) to the board, Buck keeps nagging about what the L stands for, and Tommy just won't budge.)

#thank you for the ask my friend!#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #asks

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gwenfr · 16 days ago

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Promised myself that even if I'm so busy irl, I would at least do one more art for my Bucktommy Halloween fic before it's officially Halloween... I know it's not perfect but didn't have more time so here it goes...

Hope in Halloween : Chapter 4

It was finally Halloween night, and Buck was in his loft preparing Jee and himself to go out, waiting for Tommy to arrive when there was a knock on the door.

He left Jee with some coloring book on the coffee table and went to open the door, not knowing if it was his boyfriend or some kids asking for candy.

He opened the door and he still didn't know to be honest. Because in front of him stood Batman.

Just a big 6'2 foot tall batman. He was taken aback for a few seconds but then recognized (as always) those gorgeous blue eyes behind the dark mask. "Tommy ?"

Buck could see Tommy's blush on the little skin not hidden by the mask.

“I thought I would make an effort,” said Tommy, apparently a little nervous “so yeah, matching costume you said ?!”

Buck could only smile because of all the love he felt right now for his boyfriend. “Thank you” he said before closing the distance to kiss him. It was a quick kiss, stopping when his hands felt something on Tommy’s chest. He took a step back to better look at his boyfriend's body. Buck's eyes took notice of Tommy's costume, especially the chest area and could only grow big when he realized that Tommy was wearing the infamous Batman nipple suit from the 90's movie...

He smiled again and put back his hands on Tommy/Batman's chest. "Woah Batman, your costume is really fitting you in all the right places..."

"Yeah yeah I know, don't look at me like that, it was too last minute, the store didn't have any other one left..."

“Well, I’m not complaining.”

Tommy rolled his eyes fondly before looking up and down at Buck’s body, a little longer than necessary, seeing a vintage superman costume, complete with the blue tights and the red underwear over it. He smiled.

"But I could return you the compliment. They didn't have the newer one for you ?"

And this time it was Buck who was blushing before quickly defending himself. "No, they had a lot of choices, but I just always thought it was the best version of the superman costume.”

Tommy looked pensive hearing this response and after a couple of seconds of silence just said in a low voice. “I agree…”.

Summary: Buck ask Tommy to spend Halloween with him and Jee. Tommy accept before realising that due to Buck and Jee's choices of costume, it's going to be difficult to enjoy his first Halloween with the man he love and his niece. Tommy will have to accept his late mom and his boyfriend's help to get over some past Halloween trauma and finally enjoy the spookiest day of the year with his new family.

#bucktommy fic #tevan fic #bucktommy art #tevan fanart #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #bucktommy #tevan

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like-the-rest-of-la · 2 years ago

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Temptation Tuesday

I was tagged by @destielbuddiepipeline and @rewritetheending for Temptation Tuesday 💖💖 thaaaank you!! Also, I swear Morgan, we must've shared a braincell today bc I kept thinking about an AU very loosely based on 'My Best Friend's Wedding' and the first couple of sentences basically wrote themselves 🙈 anyway... that's basically my temptation bc I actually wanted to write the cursed!Buck fic or the vet!Buck fic... yet... here we are.

Eddie knows that people who are on the brink of death sometimes have an out-of-body experience. He didn't. When he was lying there on the asphalt, bleeding out—dying—three and a half years ago, he just saw Buck. He remembers reaching for him, looking at him, and then… nothing until he woke up in a hospital room.

But in this moment, right here, right now, he feels like he finally gets what these people are talking about.

One second he's ribbing Chimney because of his continuous lack of solitaire skills. Out of the corner of his eye, he's keeping track of Buck ushering Hen, Bobby and Ravi in their direction, towards the table in the firehouse loft.

The next, Buck—with his cheeks bright red and a nervous grin edged to his features—clutches the backrest of the chair on Eddie's right so hard, his knuckles are turning white. The words die on Chimney's tongue and he quirks a questioning eyebrow at Eddie. Eddie shrugs.

The rest of the team takes a seat and Buck rocks back and forth on his heels. The chair makes an unpleasant screeching noise and he stops, gulps audibly and then starts to stutter, "I-uh, I have some exciting news to share."

And even before he gets the next sentence out, Eddie feels like he's no longer present in his own body—instead, free fall and then standstill. Disconnect.

He knows he's sitting here, he knows he's got his head turned to the side, looking up at Buck (who doesn't look back at him) and... he knows. But somehow, he's not really there. He's a sideline-spectator, watching from across the room.

"I, umm, well, Kelsey asked me last night," a disbelieving laugh stumbles out of Buck's mouth, "and it was a bit of a surprise, but, umm, I said yes, and-I-I'm getting married. I'm getting married, guys."

And in this moment, Eddie finally feels like he gets it, because hearing Buck say, "I'm getting married", feels a lot like dying.

I'm gonna tag @mellaithwen @princessfbi @theladyyavilee @buckactuallys @capseycartwright @renecdote @spotsandsocks and @nymika-arts if you want to and haven't already 💖💖💖

#who knows what will happen to this idea sjjsjsjs #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #lisa writes #au shenanigans #fic excerpt #the my best friend's wedding au 🤵‍♂️👰‍♀️🤵‍♂️

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demonvampire180writes · 2 months ago

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LA's Link to the Sky Chapter 2/3

Find Me on Ao3!

“Excuse me, you did what?” Eddie stares at him from across the kitchen island, eyes wider than the first time Buck told him he and Tommy were on a date and he realized, for the first time, that Tommy was gay.

Buck winces and gives a half tilt of his lips as he replies, “Got a tattoo for Tommy?”

Eddie’s eyeballs look ready to burst, and he’s about to lose his eyebrows to his hairline. The beer he’s holding dangles precariously between two fingers. “Buck. Buddy. Pal. You know that those are permanent, right? It won’t just be a whoopsie daisies if things go sideways.”

Buck glares at the older man. “I’m not stupid, Eddie.”

“No, you’re not,” he agrees, “but sometimes you don’t think about possible consequences.” His eyebrows finally lower and he takes a long swig from his beer. “I know you’re an eternal optimist but… You and Tommy have only been together a few months. You only told him you love him, what, two weeks ago?”

Buck flushes and takes a swig of his own beer so he’s not forced into saying anything. When the heat subsides, he admits, almost to himself he’s so quiet, “I really think… Hope… that he’s my forever, Eddie. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before; not even Abby and I held onto her for nearly a year after she left me.” Silence. Then a drawn out, guttural resigned sigh.

Scrubbing his face roughly, Eddie leans one elbow on the counter and rests his head against his fist as he scrutinizes his best friend. While there’s judgment, Buck feels a sense of warmth and brotherly affection as well. “You really have it bad for him, don’t you?” Buck nods just once, sliding his fingers along the neck of the bottle and collecting the condensation. Swiping back up, he wipes his fingers on his pants and stares at the ground. Talking with Eddie is making him feel a modicum better, but he still feels the tension in his neck.”Well then, you should do what feels right for you. Don’t hesitate. You jumped into the whole ‘dating a guy’ thing with aplomb and haven’t looked back, so maybe don’t start now.”

“Yeah?” Buck twists his fingers together, looking up at Eddie without lifting his head, his eyes wider than a puppy dog trying to look like they didn’t just upturn the trash can and trail its entrails across the kitchen.

Eddie sits up straight and reaches over to clasp Buck’s shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “Like I said when you told me about your first date; once he knows you’re an idiot, he’ll love you, just like we all already do.” He smirks. “Though this might just have one upped every other thing you’ve ever Bucked up since I met you.” Winking, he drains his beer in a few long dregs and stands. “I gotta get some shopping done so I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you Thursday on shift?” Without waiting for a response he heads for the door.

With a grin on his lips, Buck straightens, with the load of worry lightning on his shoulders, and calls out, “Asshole!” Eddie gives him the finger as he laughs his way out the door, it clicking with a sense of finality behind him.

Finishing his own drink, he heads up to his bedroom in the loft and pulls up Tommy’s contact, eager to see his face now that his secret is hidden beneath his clothing. He hits the video chat button and brightens when, after just one ring, his boyfriend picks up, his gorgeous face beaming back at him.

Buck startles at the sound of a loud, low whistle outside the locker room door. Hen stands there, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. While she’s grinning, he can already see the question in her eyes. Self-consciously he holds his shirt up a little higher; he’s only just stripped off his street clothes to change into his uniform, and he’s still shirtless, so his chest is bare for anyone to see, and he hasn’t yet told anyone else about his new art. “Did Bucky-boy get a new tat and not tell anyone?” She asks, checking out his pec with discerning eyes. “And do my eyes deceive me or is that maybe something for a specific someone?”

“Morning Hen.” Buck slowly turns away from her, ignoring the fire he feels in his cheeks. He only took off the protective bandage this morning. The skin is still quite pink and plasma oozes from where there’s the heaviest dose of ink.

“Good morning. Don’t avoid my question.” She sinks her claws in, clearly not about to let go. “So, tell me.”

Buck shimmies into his blue LAFD shirt and begins to forcefully tuck it in, drawing the process out so he doesn’t have to face her. “What was the question, again?” He hedges.

Hen sighs dramatically. “C’mon Buck, it’s cute how bad you have it for Tommy.”

“I don’t have it that bad.” He protests, jutting his bottom lip out in a pout as he zips his slacks and fastens the buckle. He can’t prolong the process any longer so he smooths his shirt front and turns to face the paramedic. To his surprise she’s got the softest smile on her lips, her posture relaxed. After what feels like a millenia long silence he sighs with exasperation and admits, “Okay so… Maybe I do have it that bad.” His shoulders roll forward into a slump as he drops his head back, staring into the blinding fluorescent lights.

Hen chuckles and a moment later her warm hands are gripping his shoulders. He lowers just his eyes so he can see her. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ve been so much more… authentically yourself since you two started dating. I think he may be part of the missing pieces you were in search of.”

“Yeah?” He slouches into her, coming to rest his head on her shoulder. She rubs his biceps a few times before running a hand through his hair. “You don’t think I’m moving too fast?”

“I think you’re moving at the exact right speed for you. There is no generic right or wrong; every partnership is different. Does he know? About the tattoo I mean?” He rubs his forehead against her shoulder in a headshake. “Well,from what little I’ve seen, I think you may just break his brain with it. It’s stunning.”

Buck sighs, sinking even more into her, wrapping his arms around her waist in a hug. She hugs him back, squeezing him in the best mama bear hug he’s felt in a long time. “Thanks Hen.”

“No problem, Bucky-boy. Make sure you let me see it up close after it’s healed some more. Don’t forget to keep it clean, and come to me if it starts looking strange or anything.” She lets go and pushes him back, waggling a finger in his face. “Maybe pull back on the impulsive decisions some though. I feel like diving head first into a same sex relationship after a totally unpredicted bi-awakening, and then a new ‘name but not a name’ tattoo, is enough impulsiveness to last the rest of the year.”

Buck lets out a genuine guffaw of laughter, eyes crinkling in the corner. “I’ll be sure to do that Mama Hen, cross my heart and hope to live.” She snorts and gives him a few hard pats right over the fresh ink. He winces and glowers a little as she turns to leave the room. Every single day he feels more and more blessed for inheriting a family that loves him unconditionally, even if they are a little mean to him just for fun sometimes.

He shoves his duffle into his locker and swings it shut, pulling out his phone to call Tommy before his shift starts, missing him after two days of not seeing him in person.

Later that shift, Buck steps out of the shower, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. They’d gotten back from back-to-back fires - one a suburban house fire, and another a warehouse - and he was covered in soot and dust. His curls were turned tan from the stuff falling from the sky like snow, and he could feel grit in places he doesn’t want to think about. Thankfully Gerrard finally shows some level of mercy and demands a halt on calls for the next hour, allowing his staff to eat and clean up.

Chimney stands at the wide, wooden, bench in the bathroom outside the shower stalls in just his slacks as he digs through his bag, probably for a razor or a toothbrush. He glances up when Buck approaches, roughly scrubbing at his hair with a second towel. His brother-in-law's eyes grow wider than saucers upon seeing Buck’s new adornment. “Buck, what in the hell is that and does Tommy know?”

It takes him longer than it should to understand what Chimney is asking. He furrows his brow and stares at him for a long second before following his line of sight to his chest. “Oh. This?” He points stupidly at himself, his confusion palpable.

Chimney opens and closes his mouth like a fish a few times, his own brows knitting together. “No, Buck, I mean the other glaringly obvious body art that magically appeared on you since the last time I saw you shirtless. Which isn’t as long ago as it should be.” He leans over and backhands his stomach. “Yes, that.”

Buck can’t help the way his face flushes, heat creeping up his neck. Part of it’s from pleasure, knowing that so far everyone that’s seen it has known exactly who it was for, but also in embarrassment because he knows they know that it was a somewhat impulsive decision. It also probably means that if things go sideways with Tommy… He likely won’t be able to play off what it means to him.

“Um… It’s a tattoo?” Once again it comes out more as a question than a statement. It’s really not hard to understand why others thought him dim a lot of the time.

“Duh.” Chimney says with emphasis, crying out in triumph as he pulls out a metal comb. It’s only then that Buck realizes that the man's own dark hair is damp. Chimney begins to attempt to tame the nest that is his hair as he continues staring deep into the younger man's soul, eyes wide with question. “But that is for Tommy, isn’t it? Or are you just super into cool scenery now and it has absolutely nothing to do with your hot, pilot boyfriend?” He stills and then his eyes widen even further until he almost looks like a cartoon character whose eyes are about to pop from their head. “Wait, wait, wait. Does Maddie know you pulled a stunt like this?”

Buck turns his head and shifts his eyes. “Ma-y-be.” The word drags and he knows that Chimney will know he’s lying. The silence says as much. “Look, I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”

The paramedic sighs heavily, and a moment later there’s a firm weight on his shoulder. He turns his head back and finds Chimney standing right next to him now, dark eyes full of understanding. He forgets that Chimney has fallen in love twice and the first time it didn’t work out so well. The second time around? He found his soulmate. Almost more than anyone Chimney understands what it’s like to find someone only to have them ripped out from under him and Buck has gone through that more than most people his age.

“Look, Buck, I get it okay. You and Tommy? You guys belong together. But I can’t help remembering that you felt this way around Abby, too. When you fell, you fell hard. So hard in fact that you broke into pieces when you were finally forced to face gravity and crashed. Then Taylor came around and you latched hard onto her, and we all thought she was your new forever. But… well.” He shrugs. “I’m tired of seeing you get hurt and this,” he gestures at his friend's pec, “worries me because if something does go wrong, that’s a reminder you can’t just get rid of. I’m not sure you’d recover and you’d be forced to remember every single day.”

Warmth pools deep in Buck’s gut as he stares at his brother-in-law with heat pooling in the back of his eyes. His lip trembles as he forces his tears back. “Chimney.” He whimpers.

Chimney grins. “I have faith that you and Tommy will still be together when you’re old and grey. I don’t want to be the one who jinxes it. I see the way you look at him so, if you’re sure, I’ll be sure.” He squeezes Buck’s shoulder again and gives him a gentle shake. “Now put some clothes on. I don’t need to see you naked. That’s your boyfriend's job.” Buck snorts a somewhat wet laugh and wipes at his nose, sending one more prayer of thanks to whomever would listen for bringing him a family that cares for him so deeply he can’t even see the bottom of the well.

Maddie bursts into his loft on his day off demanding, “You got a tattoo for Tommy?!” She stomps up to him at the stove and whirls him around to look him in the eye. “Evan Buckley, just what were you thinking?”

He blinks rapidly, trying to force his brain back online after the processing disruption. His eyes flick back to the pan he was stirring a moment ago then back to his sister, brows furrowed. “What?”

Maddie puts her hands on her hips and huffs. “You. Got. A. Tat. Too.”

Still confused, he turns the knob for the burner to the off position and wipes his hands with the tea towel slung over his shoulder - it’s a gift from Tommy, a white and red towel with tiny firetrucks all over it. He refused to use it at first, because he didn’t want to ruin a gift, but within a few weeks it became his go to for cleaning up any messes that wouldn’t stain. Its fibers are soft, and pliant, after so many trips through the washer and Buck adores it. “Y-yeah, so? I’m an adult.”

Maddie’s big eyes go even water and tears brim along the waterline. “Buck. That’s a huge step. Does he even know?”

“Funnily enough Chimney asked the same thing.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “For good reason. A tattoo is permanent. A lifelong commitment. And Chimney says that it’s something very much… You guys.” She shifts a couple of times back and forth on her feet before caving in and approaching her little brother, cupping his face in her hands, stroking along his jaw. She searches deep in his eyes, trying to draw out any hint of regret.

Buck places his hands over hers and squeezes oh so gently. Lowering his voice he breathes, “I know Maddie. That’s why I got it. I,” he sucks in a sharp breath, broad chest expanding until he could float away like a balloon. “I’m positive t-that Tommy is going to be… Going to be… my forever.” He admits, breath whooshing out in a singular exhale as he admits that out loud. It’s been four days since he marked himself. Four days since he sincerely committed to the idea of forever with a man he’s only known a few months. Four months since he accepted that he’s bi. And he’s never felt more sure of anything in his life.

“I know that this is probably fast, and I-I think for most people it would be but…” He grips her hands and lowers them between themselves.

A single tear rolls down his sister's cheek. “I wasn’t here for it but, from what I’ve been told, you felt this way for Abby and look what happened. She broke you, Buck.”

He shakes his head and swipes the pad of his thumb under her eye, wiping her tear on his pant leg. “This is different.”

“But how do you know? He’s the first guy you’ve ever dated and he’s almost a decade older than you. Every time you date someone older it ends in disaster.”

Buck looks directly at her as he says, “When you know, you know. Like how you knew Chimney was really it for you this time. Like Bobby knew Athena’s his, along with her kids. It’s like Hen and Karen knowing they were meant to be, even after everything they’ve been through.” He knits his brows together. “I mean yeah, I’ve felt kind of this way before but it was… different. I can’t go more than a few hours without thinking about him. Whenever I learned a fun new fact, or began obsessing over something new, my first thought was always to text you or Eddie but now, he’s the first one I want to tell about anything, good or bad. With Abby I…” He runs a hand through his curls and looks away, getting lost in those distant memories for just a moment. “She had so much going on in her life that I never felt like I could burden her with my own worries but Tommy… Even on his worst days I feel like he still wants to genuinely hear what I have to say. He wants us to work out those bad days together. We’re still separate people but it feels like we could operate as one. Ya know?”

Maddie sniffs. “Buck.” Her voice breaks and she brings the sleeve of her sweater up to her face and wipes first her eyes and then her nose. Her eyes are red rimmed but she’s no longer crying. “You really mean that, don’t you?” He nods, not looking at her. “You stupid, silly boy.” A breath later he’s wrapped tightly in her arms, her hand holding his head against her shoulder, the other wrapped tightly around his middle. His own eyes prickle as he wraps her up in his own embrace, relishing the feeling of this familial bond.

They hug until Maddie can bring herself to stop sniffling. When she does, she pulls back and pushes him out to arms length with a smirk on her lips. “Well, now that we got that mushy sibling crap out of the way, I think it’s time you show me this symbol of eternal love.”

Buck snorts and proceeds to bat her hands away. “Gaze upon my skin in awe, sister, for it is awesome.” She playfully protests as he begins to lift the corner of his shirt, yelling my eyes, my eyes as she mock cowers away. They continue to banter back and forth even as she comes closer to examine the peeling tattoo, tracing over the delicate lines and oohing and awing over its awesomeness.

Once she’s had her fill, she steps back. Seriously she says, “He’s going to love it, Buck. Not just because he loves you.” The tips of his ears turn pink. “But next time you do something like this you had better tell me first. Eddie may be your best friend but I’m your sister and that takes priority.”

“I make zero promises.” He dances away, giggling like a little boy as she chases after him with her arm raised, ready to hit and main him, even if only in gest.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

#ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfiction #911 on abc #established buck x tommy #evan buckley x tommy kinard #tevan endgame #9 1 1 on abc #911 show #tevan positive #tevan positive writer #tommy kinard positive #kinley fanfiction #kinley positive #completed story #completed fanfiction #completed fanfic #completed work

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lboogie1906 · 4 months ago

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Donald Ulysses Walden (July 12, 1938 - April 6, 2009) was born to Gracie Buck and Louis Walden. The family lived in Clarksville, Tennessee (1938-46). His mother took him to see bands that toured the South. After seeing the Silas Green Band from New Orleans, a popular band of the era, he decided that he wanted to become a “stand-up saxophone player.”

In 1946, they migrated to Detroit. He started playing the saxophone around age 15, studying at the Larry Teal School of Music and Detroit Community Music School. While attending Chadsey High School, he met pianist Barry Harris and saxophonist Yusef Lateef. Walden’s peers included drummer Roy Brooks, alto saxophonist Charles McPherson, and trumpeter Lonnie Hillyer.

He followed many Detroit musicians to New York, during a time known as the “Loft Movement.” He played in Aretha Franklin’s band and is credited on her album, Aretha in Paris. Walden toured with Stevie Wonder, The Temptations, and The Four Tops.

He created the original Detroit Jazz Orchestra, which included a 16-piece string section and which received much national critical acclaim. He received the Michigan Governor’s Art Award, and he became only the sixth Detroit musician to receive the Jazz Master Award from Arts Midwest. Other accolades of note include the Legends of Jazz International Hall of Fame Award and the Alain Locke Award.

His most influential recording was “Yardbird Suite,” which he released in 1990. “Yardbird Suite” brought together a big band including 18 strings, a 30-voice choir, and featured conductor Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson and soloist Dizzy Gillespie. He produced three independent albums: A Portrait of You (1992), A Monk & A Mingus Among Us (1998), and Focus: The Music of Tadd Dameron (2003). As a jazz educator, he taught at the Center for Creative Studies, Michigan State University, Oberlin Conservatory of Music, and the University of Michigan.

He is survived by two daughters. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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ebdaydreamer · 2 years ago

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Writer asks! 36, 39, 40 🥰

36) How do you write kissing scenes?

Wow, I've just realised I haven't written anything more than a peck on the lips in years 😂 I just throw shit at the wall and see what works

39) Share a snippet from a WIP

“It’s been too long since Buck came over,” he sighs in the overly dramatic way only preteens can sigh.

Eddie raises a brow at his son who’s becoming even more of a little shit than he is. “So hanging out with your poor Dad is lame, but Buck’s still cool? I see how it is.”

Chris rolls his eyes, and Eddie has half a mind to call him out on it, but he knows he’d be a massive hypocrite. “Well yeah, because I see you almost every day.” He deflates a little and asks in a much more subdued tone: “Why hasn’t he come over? Did you guys have a fight? Does he have a new girlfriend?”

If it weren’t 7:32 pm on a school night, Eddie would bundle them in the car and drive to Buck’s loft right this second.

(Chris is quickly becoming one of my favourite characters to write)

40) If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

If someone made any kind of art of my work I would be too busy combusting to care what scene or fic it was

Thanks for asking!!

#ellie replies #ellie talks #eddiesbleps #911

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fraddit · 2 years ago

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This is a new post in my series of three four about Eddie’s house on 9-1-1.

part one, part two, part three | Buck’s loft

Since 5b blessed us with lots of looks at Eddie’s room (finally!!), I wanted to do an update to my model of Eddie's house. Rather than alter my original post, I’m just making a new one to tack on. So, let’s get started.

Here’s the floor plan view. They changed the door into the room from both the S2 House and from what we saw a glimpse of in S3. So the door now swings inward. They also removed a window and moved the closet from right by the door into the room to over on the other side of Chris’s closet, which makes the room bigger (And also leaves a weird empty space hiding in the walls, but it's fine. I'm fine.).

And Eddie has used his new bigger room to fit his new treadmill.

More views and details under the cut!

The furniture is all pretty similar to what we saw in S2 but not exactly the same. He’s got a contemporary, metal bed frame that’s either a queen or a full. There’s a very low headboard. The bedspread is blue and white plaid. The two matching end tables are wood with similar metal frames to the bed. There’s two matching lamps with sort of beige ceramic bases and kind of dark muted mauve lampshades. On the table next to Eddie’s side of the bed, closest to the door, is an analogue alarm clock and a tray to hold what I’m guessing are his pocket items like keys and wallet.

Under the bed is a large woven rug in a muted green color. And above the bed is a ceiling fan.

Across from the bed, between the door into the room and the closet door is a mid century style wood dresser. Sitting on top of this dresser is another ceramic lamp, this time in a blue color with white or beige shade. Next to that is the only visible photo in the room. It’s of Eddie and Chris hugging Shannon on Christmas in S2. In front of that is Eddie’s Silver Star. And next to that is a low profile decorative wooden box.

There’s a piece of art hanging on the wall above this dresser, but the only glimpse of it I could get was enough to know that there’s a white matte and the lower right corner is some shade of brownish. So, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing a desert art print to match the other desert art in his room. I’m pretty confident that it is actually some sort of nature art, because all of the art in Eddie’s house is nature art. The living room is tree/forest stuff with one water fall. The dining room and hallway are ocean and water. Chris has his own stuff, but there’s also the Redwood poster and he has a lot of animals. And Eddie’s room seems to be desert themed, which is why I stuck with desert for this mystery art.

Along the far wall is the treadmill. It faces the closet door. We never got to see this wall pre destruction, so I don’t know if the destroyed frame we see in the aftermath was on this wall or was the piece from over the dresser I just discussed. So, this wall could be blank or not. There’s no telling.

Behind the treadmill, in the corner, is another taller and narrower wood dresser. It’s got a nice bonsai tree sitting on it that looks to be a jade tree.

In shots of Eddie’s destroyed room when Buck breaks down the door, there’s a floor lamp next to this dresser that is not visible in any of the shots from 5x11, so I didn’t add it here. My take is that that lamp was added specifically in that scene for lighting and effect. There’s also a wicker basket that I assume is for laundry next to Eddie when he’s crying with the bat, but I’m not sure where in the room it normally lives.

Next to the dresser is the only window in the room, which is centered on the wall. There are some light brown/beige blackout curtains and also mini blinds for window treatment. There's vegetation visible outside the window.

On the other side of the window is a small piece of art. It’s a pretty desert scene in blues and pinks with saguaro cacti at either sunrise or sunset.

And there you have it. Eddie’s room!

If you got this far, thanks for reading all of this. I hope this is helpful or at least interesting. 💕

#eddie diaz #911 fox #911 #911 on fox #evan buckley #911 parade of homes #made by fraddit #911 by fraddit #shut up fraddit

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stagefoureddiediaz · 2 years ago

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really its because of you that ive become sort of. not obssesed but like whenever i watch the show i just. keep looking at the costumes! trying to look for the patterns in your theories and its become one of my favorite parts of this hahahah anyway, the point is i was reading some of your check theory posts earlier today and now i started rewatching animal instincts (mind you i havent read your costume meta for that ep, i shoumd have done my homework!) and it was just really interesting to see it play out perfectly! specially in the scenes with buck + connor and cameron. like, in the dinner scene buck (buck's in black, i already read that disscusion) but also connor was in check! and cameron's shirt had like a big floral pattern and all i could think about was how that was sort of a reflection on what they would bring to buck after that scene! (which also like, reinforces the idea that the sperm donor thing is a Bad Idea), then connor wearing check to buck's loft later, aaaand my favorite, which i actually spotted during my first watch, was the stripes haha (i also think like half my dash was people going insane over that last monday), and the fact that buck wasnt the only one wearing the stripes, but i dont remember exactly what was the difference between vertical and horizontal stripes rn hahaha because ofc buck saying yes to the donation is supposed to be this big life change for connor and his wife, but i dont know what it all means! im just here chilling and spotting the patterns. idk, your costume theory is stuck on loop in my head and i cannot stop thinking about it!

(and im not even gonna get into the slutty black tanktop of it all and chris's new patterned pjs! thats a job for the professionals)

how did i do? did i get the assignment right? hahahaha anyway thank you for helping me and all of us actually to appreciate the art and thought that goes into costume design, its really interesting to me and i wouldnt have started to learn more about it if it werent for you 💛 have a great weekend and see you next monday!!

jj / babygirldiazz

JJ/ babygirldiazz

I'm so sorry its taken me an age to reply to this! real life got a bit crazy for the last 10 days or so - fighting literal and metaphorical floods and fires at work so I just haven't had the brain power to go through my inbox properly until now!

I adore that you are having fun playing spot the patterns and see if they fit the theory. I hope you're now read the Animal instincts costume meta and that you enjoyed it. you're pretty spot on with your analysis of everything and the thing with stripes is that my theory is about the horizontal ones we see on lots of characters - which Conor was the one wearing in that scene.

The vertical stripes is a specific Buck thing, and they tend to accompany him being emotionally compromised (and invariably ending up making a less than stellar choice). This is really interesting and I've only just fully put two and two together on this (so JJ you get all the praise and gratitude for allowing me to spiral and go on a little Buck costume trawl) but the shooting is the first time we see Buck in vertical stripes.

And thats big - really big - because that is the moment Buck becomes emotionally compromised in a way that he hasn't been able to come back from. Everything that has been and is going on with buck stems back to the shooting. The shooting lead to a host of other choices that were less than ideal - things that he wouldn't have done, choices he wouldn't have made, if the shooting haddn't happened - letting Taylor into his life, saying ILY to her, moving her into his apartment, etc etc etc. all stem from the shooting and all are times when Buck is wearing stripes.

The ones from Let the games begin fit into this pattern - the zip front denim shirt and then the cream shirt both tie into Bucks reluctance to get a new couch - and the questioning of who he is and what he wants - the fact that he's essentially in stasis - and hasn't fully moved on with his life - leading to him trying out self help books etc as a way of figuring out what he wants from life - this is a trauma response in so many ways and those shirts are our sign - a theme the costume designers are using to tell us, the audience, that Buck isn't doing great - that he is mentally unwell and it's why these vertical striped shirts are becoming more frequent in their appearance - because he's not getting better - he's getting worse - spiralling more.

Thats why I've only just been able to really get my head around their use on Buck in the last couple of episodes - it can sometimes take a little while to figure out what a designer is trying to say with patterns and styles, and this is no exception. I fully expect us to be seeing more Buck in vertical stripes going forward until he either fully breaks down, or until he is able to start healing properly - and I'm pretty confident we won't see him stop wearing them until the shooting has been talked about by Buck and Eddie. Its sitting there hanging over them and this show is all the levels of insane and clever for the way they are using all the tools at their disposal to provide clues and information for those of us who want to spend the time looking.

Just going to sit here and feel even more feral about the shooting of it all than I already was!

I hope you have an amazing week JJ and feel free to pop into my inbox whenever you like - you've made my day!

💜💜💜

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years ago

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nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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nymika-arts · 3 years ago

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39: drawing/painting them?

this got longer than i expected lmao. here's 1.8k of artist eddie 💖

read on ao3

Eddie wasn't an artist. At least, he never thought of himself as one. He was a father, a brother, a son. A firefighter, a soldier at one point. 'Artist' seemed like too delicate a title for him.

But he had always liked drawing. Ever since he was a kid. That feeling of putting a pencil to a blank piece of paper and just creating. Turning something so ordinary into something completely new with just a few lines. It was special.

He kept it up as he grew older. It was never anything more than a hobby, but his art was a sturdy companion throughout his life; not only through the joy, and the love, and the simple pleasures, but through his worst moments, too. When his life would fall to pieces, and he felt completely alone, his sketchbook was an outlet, and a comfort.

He just loved it, plain and simple. It was a perfect way to unwind after a long shift, a perfect way to relax on a day off, a perfect way to escape the whole world for a moment and just exist. He could lose himself in it.

He found himself taking time to draw more and more as he and Chris settled into their life in LA. Mostly on his days off, or in between shifts, or even just for a few minutes when he woke up in the morning.

While Eddie often brought a sketchbook to work with him, he rarely got the chance to actually use it, and he never quite had the courage to take it out in front of the others. It was always by himself in the bunk room, or tucked into a corner in the loft when everyone else was asleep.

He didn't necessarily mean to hide it from them, it's just that when Eddie wanted to draw, he wanted to just draw; he wasn't interested in fielding questions from his curious friends, or having people look over his shoulder as he worked, or ask to see what else he had created. It made it into something for show, when it wasn't meant to be. So much of his life was laid out in the open here, and he didn't mind it, these people were his family, but there were some things that he liked to keep to himself. This was just his.

But when a perfect moment presented itself, it was hard to pass it up.

That's how Eddie found himself sitting at the table in the firehouse on a slow day with a pencil in his hand, drawing his best friend.

Buck was across the loft, sprawled out in one of the chairs in front of the television, reading a book that Eddie couldn't quite make out the title of. It was such an ordinary moment, but something about it made Eddie want to just sit there and live in it for as long as he could. To capture just a piece of it, even the barest impression, to preserve it. Buck flipped a page, and the sound was crisp in the quiet of the loft. It was nothing special, just like any other day, but that was part of what made Eddie want to hold on to it. These ordinary moments were easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

Eddie was usually paying attention. He couldn’t really help it; around Buck, he felt like he was constantly falling in love, over and over and over again. It was hard not to linger on all of his little details. He took up so much room in Eddie’s heart, and Eddie still couldn’t get enough.

He put his head down, and let the drawing take shape under his hand.

Eddie tried to capture every detail of the scene in front of him. The comfortable way that Buck had draped himself across the chair, the way the warm light shone across his face and cast shadows in any place it couldn’t reach, the small crease he got between his brows when he was really concentrating on something.

It was in these moments that Buck looked most like himself. These quiet moments where the masks he wore slipped away, and he let himself just be. These were the moments where Eddie loved him the most.

That's what he really wanted this drawing to look like. Like Buck, just as himself. Like Eddie's boundless love for him.

When Eddie glanced up again, Buck was looking at him. Eddie froze as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"What are you doing?" Buck asked.

"Nothing."

Buck glanced at the pad of paper in front of Eddie and the pencil in his hand.

"Eddie, are you drawing me?"

"No," he said, snapping the sketchbook closed as Buck hoisted himself out of his chair and walked over.

"Come on, you are. Let me see."

"No, I'm really not–– it's not that good." He pulled the sketchbook closer to himself to keep it out of Buck's reach. He knew Buck would never say anything bad about it, but Eddie had never shown anyone his drawings before, and he wasn't sure he wanted to change that just yet.

"Pleeease?" Buck said, drawing out the word and putting on his sweetest smile. It was the same kind of thing Chris liked to do when he was angling for an extra scoop of ice cream. It worked every time.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he flipped the book open again and slid it towards Buck. "Fine," he said. "But just… be nice about it."

Buck grinned and slid into the seat next to him. "I'm always nice."

Eddie watched him as his eyes traced over the page, trying to read his reaction before he'd really even looked at it. Buck's expression–– his whole demeanor, really–– grew softer as he studied the drawing. He looked thoughtful. This was another one of those moments, where Buck just seemed so thoroughly himself.

"Eddie, this is really good," Buck said finally, looking back up at him.

Eddie fought the urge to squirm under Buck's gaze. It felt like he'd bared a piece of his soul. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," Buck paused to glance over it again. "I don't even look this good in real life."

Eddie huffed out a laugh and just looked at him.

"I'm serious!" Buck said, shoving at Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re an artist.” They were joking around, but there was something about the way Buck said the word, with such admiration, that had Eddie thinking maybe it wasn't such a bad match after all.

“I guess so,” he said with a smile.

"Do you do this a lot? You must have had some practice."

"Yeah I mean, I used to really like it in high school, and it was a good way to pass the time when I was in the army. Internet connection was usually pretty spotty, so..." Eddie trailed off and glanced out at the empty loft. He'd never really talked to anyone about his art before. It felt strangely intimate.

"I've never seen you draw before."

"I don't usually do it around other people, I guess? It's just something for me; a good way to relax."

“Ah, so you’re a secret artist.”

“You make it sound so dramatic. It's not a secret, I just don't tell people.”

"That's what a secret is." Buck stared at the drawing in front of him for a moment longer before flipping to a blank page and sticking his hand out at Eddie. "Gimme your pencil."

"What? Why?"

"So I can draw, idiot. I'm gonna draw you now."

"You're gonna draw me." It wasn't a question; more of a statement of disbelief.

"What, you think you're the only one with a hidden talent?"

Eddie laughed. "You're fucking with me."

"No seriously, I'm a super good artist," Buck said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

"Right, okay. Well, knock yourself out." Eddie passed the pencil to him and sat back in his chair.

The room fell mostly into silence again, save for the scratching of pencil against paper. It was a bit funny, watching Buck draw. The smile never left his face, he looked up at Eddie every so often–– either for reference or just to make sure he was still paying attention–– and Eddie could tell he was trying not to laugh. This was going to be good.

After a few minutes, Buck put the pencil down to inspect his masterpiece, then turned it towards Eddie. "Pretty good, right?"

It was… well, it was completely horrible.

"Buck, I am sorry I doubted you," Eddie said in mock sincerity. "This is the best drawing I’ve seen in my entire life." He could barely get the sentence out before he and Buck dissolved into laughter.

It struck Eddie, as the two of them tried to regain their composure, that this was one of the many reasons that he'd fallen for Buck in the first place. Not just the easy way that Buck could make him laugh, but the way that, after all these years of feeling too self conscious about his art to share it with anyone, it had taken Buck all of three minutes to convince Eddie to share it with him.

While there were all these little moments where Buck looked so completely himself, Eddie felt like his own moments, where he could be just Eddie, without precedent, were always when he was with Buck. There was no match to the comfort he felt when Buck was next to him.

"You really like that drawing?" Eddie asked.

Buck looked at him curiously. "Of course."

Eddie nodded, and then tore the page from the sketchbook and held it out to him. "You should take it."

Buck's eyes widened a fraction. "I get to keep it?" he asked, as if it was something precious and not a sketch Eddie had spent twenty minutes on in between calls.

"If you want it." It felt like he was handing over more than just a piece of paper.

Buck stared at him with such fondness Eddie almost had to look away. "I do," he said. It sounded like he was accepting more than just a piece of paper, too.

Then the bell rang, and whatever they might have been leaning towards vanished with the eruption of sound. The moment was spent.

"You can keep mine too," Buck said with a grin as he stood, squeezing Eddie's shoulder and then dashing to the stairs.

Eddie laughed. "Oh wow, thank you. I'm so honoured."

The next time Eddie visited Buck's apartment, he noticed that Buck had put the drawing up on his fridge, where he would see it every day. When Eddie asked why, all he said was "Well, I haven't found a frame for it yet."

And Eddie fell in love again.

#911 fox #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fanfic #buddie fic #novatracks #gracieli #yawnralphio #useralie #tusernikki #tuserel #this fic took a really long time to finish for some reason #nymwrites

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kitkatpancakestack · 3 years ago

Text

(for @archerincombat, who requested Eddie trying to remodel the station)

VIII

Buck knows something is off the moment he steps into the loft at the firehouse, and Eddie is perched on the back of the couch staring at the kitchen with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. It’s still unreasonably early, so it takes him a minute to place the look, but he knows that face. He’s seen it on the couch in front of the TV, at the dining table staring into space, at Target in the décor aisle.

He doesn’t have it in him to face that look before coffee, so he leaves it alone.

Several days later, while they’re between calls, he finds Eddie at the counter in the kitchen, hunched over a tiny notebook and scribbling furiously. He watches Eddie’s back, his head ducked, foot tapping a steady rhythm against the counter.

“Uh, what’s going on Buck?”

Buck flits a look at Hen before nodding toward Eddie. “He’s up to something.”

“Okay?”

“I’m curious.”

“So why don’t you . . . ask?”

He frowns. “I’m afraid I won’t like the answer.”

Hen laughs, brushing by him to start a pot of coffee. “Hey, Eddie, whatcha doing? You into journaling all of a sudden?”

Buck inches closer, in time to see Eddie cover the page of the notebook with his hand. “Just jotting down my grocery list.”

Hen buys the lie or doesn’t care too much either way, pressing the brew button on the coffee pot. Chimney’s laugh ascends from the engine bay, and she pauses to whisper, “Don’t be so suspicious,” at Buck on her way down the steps. Right. Sure. Except Eddie is so clearly lying and Buck is going to figure out why.

He slides onto the stool beside his best friend. “Hey, Ed.”

Eddie casts him a dubious side-eye. “Hi.”

“You’re scribbling awful intensely there, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “I’m scribbling at a normal intensity.”

“Uh-huh.” He tries to be sneaky, to inchworm his fingers across the countertop, but Eddie slides the notebook that much further away. “Eddie,” Buck whines, “come on. It’s a slow day. Kinda gotta make your own entertainment around here.”

“Well, make your entertainment somewhere else.” He slips the notebook into his pocket and slides off the stool, bounding down the steps. Buck hears him shout Bobby’s name on his way down.

Given the resistance when he brought it up originally, Buck doesn’t mention Eddie’s odd behavior again, until a week later when he steps into the loft and everything is . . . different.

The dish towels and oven mitts have been replaced, and are now color-coded with a pristine, red Le Creuset pot sitting on the counter. There’s a sign above the oven that reads If you can’t take the heat, stay out of the firehouse, and a few food-shaped magnets adorning the fridge. Not to mention the deep burgundy table runner sprawled along the table, and the bowl of fruit in the middle, and identical abstract art pieces made of wood on either side of the fruit bowl. There are red cushions on the wooden chairs now.

“Um,” Buck says, trying and failing to wrap his mind around everything.

“Wow,” is the chorused response from behind him, as Hen and Chimney take in the changes. All three of them gawp at the new decor. Bobby joins them moments later.

“Damn, Cap.” Chimney whistles. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Bobby shrugs. “Time for a change, you know? I was hit with some . . . outside inspiration.”

“Well, thank goodness you were. We gonna try out this new Creuset thing or what?”

The three of them amble further into the kitchen, spit-balling dinner ideas. Everything is beautiful and pain-stakingly color-coded. And Buck doesn’t doubt Bobby’s ability to match a dish towel with a chair cushion, but this has somebody else written all over it.

Sure enough, Buck finds Eddie seated in a chair on the other side of the loft. His gaze is averted, but he’s grinning proudly down at his lap, flipping his notebook closed. Buck flops down on the couch diagonal from him.

“We got some nice new digs,” he mentions, lacing his fingers behind his head. “You check them out yet?”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and then, “Are you going to be pissy because I didn’t take you with me?”

Folded like a house of cards. Buck grins. “I should be thankful for the reprieve.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Really, Eddie, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I can’t even imagine how long it took you to find all those pieces that were appropriately color-coordinated.”

“Buck.”

“And the Le Creuset pot? Wow. So you can buy cooking equipment, you just can’t use it? Is that right?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He pops one eye open, finds Eddie already glaring at him, but there’s a fondness undercutting the look. “Does this mean our own Extravaganza this weekend is cancelled?”

Eddie snorts and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “Never.”

“Dammit,” Buck teases, but a pleased smile twists his lips, and he settles into the couch as the rest of his team starts prepping for dinner.

#buddie #a drabble #interior designer!eddie #i can't stop i won't stop #buckley diaz family #got the whole weewoo fam making a cameo in this one

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