...oops? Have some more 5x7 spec.
Buck’s hands are shaking.
His throat is raw from screaming and his mind is—
He can’t stop replaying it, over and over. The radio bursting with static. Turning around to pick it up. Buck, Warden Trent, he’s—
His ears filled with white noise as he turned back around to see Eddie with a gun to his temple. He hadn’t even noticed when the radio slipped from his fingers. But he saw Eddie’s lips move.
He didn’t hear his answer so much as he felt it, Eddie’s name ripped from his throat.
No, no, no, no please, no please, not again, not again, not again, please—
He couldn’t do anything.
He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop Eddie being dragged away. He couldn’t will their places swapped. He couldn’t—
There was a gun. And Eddie wasn’t bleeding, but all Buck can see is red. He can taste it in his mouth, he can feel it on his skin. If Eddie gets shot again—
His hands won’t stop shaking.
“What’s happening?” He asks the SWAT agent who has been assigned to babysit him. He wants to climb out of his skin, claw at the walls, break down the door. He feels trapped, a caged animal pacing the length of the room, desperate to get out, to go, to do anything that would bring Eddie back to him.
“I don’t have any updates,” the woman explains for the umpteenth time.
“Look, just—” Buck wants to scream. “Let me out. Let me talk to your captain, I can help, I was—we were with the warden most of the day before this happened, I can tell him—”
“Firefighter Buckley, we’ve got everything we need,” she interrupts. “Just sit tight. We’ll update you when we have something to report.”
“You don’t understand,” he snaps. Blood in his mouth and shaking hands and a gun and Christopher—Christopher is at home and he can’t—he’s can’t— “This is Eddie we’re talking about. That’s my partner—you can’t ask me to just—”
Buck whirls around and freezes. Taylor’s in the doorway, a strange look on her face. He blinks once, twice—
What—? What is—?
“They didn’t tell me it was you,” she sighs, raking a hand through her hair. And it’s then that his eyes drop to her neck, that he notices the lanyard with her press credentials attached.
“No,” he says before she can say anything else. He is far beyond frayed, unraveling rapidly, and he can’t—this is not something he is capable of dealing with right now.
“I was assigned—”
“No,” he repeats, ice cracking, cracking, cracking, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, because his heart, his life, his soul is being held hostage in the building across the street and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to survive if—
“You were the only witness,” she says apologetically. “Look, I won’t—you could just tell me what happened, it doesn’t even have to be on camera—I’ll keep your name out of it—”
“It’s Eddie, Taylor!” It’s no longer just his hands, Buck feels like his whole body is shaking. “It’s Eddie—again. And all I could do was stand there and watch—again. And again I might have to go home tonight and tell Christopher that I couldn’t protect his dad, but hey, Eddie picked me to replace him so if he wants a poor fucking substitute, at least he’ll have me!”
“Buck…” Taylor takes a few steps and reaches out to gently cup his face. Buck flinches away.
Her hands aren’t the ones he wants right now.
“Don’t,” he chokes out. “Please don’t, just—just go. Just go do your job, away from me. It’s where you want to be anyway.”
He knows it’s not fair even as he says it. Taylor sucks in a breath like she’s been slapped, but quickly rearranges her features, her face smoothing over, back straightening.
“Fine,” she says quietly. “I’ll go.”
Buck collapses into a chair the second the door clicks shut behind her.
His hands are still shaking.
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partially inspired by this fic by @capseycartwright. special thanks to my love @zeethebooknerd ❤
buck/eddie, 1108 words, fluff.
the first time they kiss is when chris and eddie have had a fight, and eddie’s in the kitchen upset and spiralling and doubting himself, and buck reassures him and comforts him and promises that he's not going anywhere. it’s small, it’s quick, barely noticeable among buck's words and the way he has their foreheads pressed together, but it warms eddie to his core.
they don't talk about it.
maybe it's for the best — maybe they're not ready, but it's okay because christopher comes out and he and eddie apologise to each other and eddie still has his family. he still has his son in his arms, and he still has buck, with fond glances and soft touches and seamless partnership and his friendship.
(if his gaze lingers sometimes, if every time he touches buck he wants to grab on and never let go, well. he’ll tell buck one day.
he's just not ready yet.)
the second time they kiss is also in eddie’s house.
(he’s starting to think this house, his home, will always contain traces of buck. he wouldn’t want it any other way.)
they’re off shift, and his son is asleep down the hall, and he and buck are lounging on the couch, half-ignoring whatever movie’s playing on the screen in favour of just existing with each other, and eddie thinks this is the most relaxed he’s ever been. it’s been a perfect evening, extremely domestic in its simplicity, and maybe it should scare him — the level of comfort and dependency he has with his best friend — but instead it just makes him feel secure.
a loud sound from the tv startles him out of his musings, and he rolls his head against the back of the couch to turn to buck to find him looking right back at eddie, mirroring his position on the couch as his eyes twinkle.
they both lean in at the same time. it’s a little longer this time round, and eddie has time to wonder at the softness of buck’s lips and the warmth of his skin before they break apart to beam at each other.
they still don’t talk about it.
(and it’s not like eddie’s unsure of his feelings for buck, but he’s definitely not sure of himself, and he knows buck has his own hang ups too, so. they don’t talk about it, and they keep being companions and partners on and off the field and whatever this something-more-than-friends zone is that they’ve found themselves in.)
the third time almost doesn’t count, except eddie can’t stop thinking about it.
it’s been a rough call, and as they all return to the station and get cleaned up, and bobby heads to his office to call athena and hen and chim head upstairs to watch one of their dumb reality shows, eddie waits in the locker room for buck to come out of the showers.
he’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts, though, that he doesn’t even notice buck’s footsteps until his shadow falls across his lap and eddie looks up from the ground to see him in shorts and an (is that eddie’s?) lafd hoodie and damp hair. buck wordlessly holds out a hand and eddie lets himself be pulled up, but instead of keeping him still, buck uses the momentum to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him into a hug. eddie folds himself around him in return, feels his partner relax into him and bury his head in the crook of eddie’s neck like he always does.
eddie’s very aware of the way his own hands are gripping buck’s hoodie tight, and the way buck’s breath feels on his skin, and that after minutes pass and buck shows no signs of letting go, they’re in a room with glass walls and have been hugging longer than friends ever do, but he can’t make himself let go, either — especially when he feels buck’s lips press into his neck in the ghost of a kiss and stay there.
that small bit of comfort stays with him, even as they break apart and move upstairs, as they work their way through a simple meal, as bobby puts them back on rotation and they go out for more calls, as the sun rises and they all head home to sleep off their shift.
but they don’t talk about it.
eddie’s not an idiot - he knows they can’t go on like this forever, but he’s content with this slow pace, in this limbo with buck.
(maybe he’s a little terrified of himself, though — every relationship he’s ever been in, he’s been selfish and inconsiderate and pushed and pushed until his partner broke. he’s already lost his child’s mother, in more ways than one, and he thinks — no, he knows — he wouldn’t recover from losing buck.)
the fourth time is different.
the fourth time isn’t by happenstance, the fourth time eddie makes happen, because. because - he can’t stop thinking about the way buck hugged him, the way he comforted eddie and let eddie comfort him, the way he and buck have always been so in sync with each other, how after a bad day all eddie wants is to see christopher and buck, and he’s lying in bed in the middle of the night, about to drift off, when his own words from that same locker room come back to him, unbidden - tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. so if you love her, tell her.
suddenly eddie’s wide awake.
he doesn’t get any sleep that night. he gets up before his alarm, wakes up christopher and feeds him breakfast, gets him ready, drives him to school, and when christopher has disappeared into the building with a kiss on the cheek and a love you, dad!, eddie’s driving to buck’s loft on autopilot before he knows it.
he doesn’t know what he’s doing, can’t form a coherent thought beyond tell him. he’s not even sure what he wants to tell buck, he’s not sure he’s not going to fuck everything up, he’s not sure why he’s banging on buck’s door at eight in the morning, but when buck sleepily opens the door and mumbles ‘eds, what-’ all eddie can do is take buck’s face in his hands and press their lips together right there in the doorway until buck relaxes in his hold and kisses him back.
the need for air forces them to break apart eventually, and buck’s smile could power a thousand suns. eddie can only grin back helplessly and think that maybe ready is overrated.
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I didn't want to hijack @extasiswings 's post but I also started thinking about Eddie not being around when that man's being dug out, aaand I couldn't stop...
Eddie looks down at his phone in surprise. Buck's ringing him, but he's supposed to be on shift, and if he was just bored in the station house he'd normally FaceTime, or send Eddie a litany of texts about his latest internet deep-dive (the great Canadian maple syrup heist was his latest obsession), but a phone call?
"Hey man, what's up?"
Buck doesn't immediately respond, but Eddie hears the shuddered inhale down the line, and now he's concerned.
Eddie gives Christopher a reassuring smile while he waits for an answer, and nods to his aunt that he's stepping out for a moment before ducking to the front door when he still doesn't get a reply.
"Buck?" he tries again. "Buck, come on, I'm here, okay? What's wrong?"
"I just..." Buck starts, faltering for a moment. "I just needed to hear your voice."
Buck sounds... shattered, honestly, something so much deeper than exhaustion, and the hairs on the back of Eddie's neck stand on edge.
"Talk to me. Did something happen on a call? Are you hurt?"
"No—we're fine, I'm fine," Buck says, but his voice is barely above a whisper and Eddie's not convinced.
"There was... this man got.... Eddie, he was buried alive. And dispatch tracked his phone but they couldn't get a precise location and by the time we started to dig things weren't looking good and—"
Buck's voice is shaking, but now that he's started speaking he can't seem to stop and his words are gaining fervour as he goes on. Eddie can feel his own grip on his cellphone getting tighter and tighter until finally he has to sit himself down on the steps of the front porch to try and catch his own breath. He knows where Buck's head is at—he can't help but go there too.
"—a-a-and I just...I couldn't stop thinking about the well collapse, and dispatch said the guy wasn't answering and I started thinking about trying to get a hold of you on the radio but we couldn't and suddenly I wasn't looking for the vic anymore, I was looking for you. I was back there in the rain and I was clawing at the ground, at the mud, and it felt like there was this vice around my chest and—"
"Breathe, Buck," Eddie interrupts a little desperately at the fear in Buck's voice, "breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth," he says as he tries to follow his own advice. "Take a deep breath, c'mon, do it with me, in for four, hold it—and breathe out for eight, and again..."
For a while there's nothing but a stream of breaths down the phone from the both of them, until finally a long steady exhale is followed by a stuttered, "sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"Don't be stupid, you can always—"
The siren rings out loud down the other end of the phone and Eddie jumps to his feet out of habit before he remembers that he's not actually on shift.
"I've gotta go," Buck mumbles, and Eddie can hear the rustling movements as he's obviously making his way over to the trucks.
"Yeah of course," Eddie says, and continues before he can second guess himself; "come over after your shift in the morning, we can go out for breakfast with Chris."
There's another exhale down the phone, but this one sounds lighter, happier, like it's being chased by a smile, and Eddie feels his own tight chest loosen considerably at the image he's conjured in his head.
"Yeah, that'd be great." Buck says, "I'll see you then."
"Perfect, it's a date." Eddie says, before hanging up.
(His own words don't register for another 30 minutes and by then Buck's already sent a smiley face emoji over text, and Eddie can't find it within himself to regret anything)
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Feelings Realizations and Lego Bricks
I’m back with a small Christopher Diaz centric fic because I love that kid so much and I miss him, it’s been two episodes 😭 and you guys seem to have liked my Legos metaphors so I did it again.
Read it on AO3
Christopher is halfway done with his Math homework when his dad joins him in the living-room. It’s a Saturday afternoon and Chris is counting the minutes until Buck comes for the movie-night. He’s a bit late but he’s not worried. He’s probably in the supermarket to buy some candies and pop-corns. Christopher knows his dad doesn’t really like it when they eat too much sugar but Buck rarely listens to his dad when it comes to this kind of things.
Christopher secretly loves him for that.
His dad always pretends to be mad at Buck afterwards but it never lasts.
“Chris?” His dad asks as he takes a seat in front of him. “Can I talk to you about something?”
Christopher knows this voice. It’s the voice his dad uses when he wants to talk to him about something important, something he might not like to hear. He sighs and puts his notebook to the side, dropping his pen on the table to focus his attention on his dad.
“What’s going on, dad?” He asks.
“Listen kiddo. I-” His dad starts and marks a pause, like he’s thinking of what he needs to say. “You probably already noticed that Ana isn’t around as much as she used to.” He says, and Christopher nods. He’s lying, though. He didn’t really notice but now that his dad says it, he does realize that he hasn’t seen her in a few days. She’s usually there every time he goes home from school but he just figured that she was probably very busy and would come back soon.
“Did you guys have a fight?” He asks.
“Not really buddy but we- we broke up.” His dad says. “She’s not really going to be around anymore.” He adds. “I’m sorry Chris, I know you liked her.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Christopher shrugs his shoulders and brings back his attention on his Math exercise.
“You guess?” His dad repeats, his eyebrows raised, like he’s shocked.
“I only liked her because I thought you did, dad.” He answers, lowering his eyes to his textbook. “She was nice. And she was a really good teacher but she was spending too much time, here. I prefer when it’s just the two of us. Or when it’s you, me and Buck.” He says, looking away guiltily. “Is that… Is that okay?”
“Wha- Chris of course it’s okay.” His dad rushes to say. “So you’re not mad, right? Or sad?”
“Not really.” He says, scribbling on his notebook. “Are you?” He asks. “Why did you break up with her? I thought she was making you happy.”
“I really thought she would, buddy.” His dad answers and there’s a sad expression on his face. Christopher doesn’t like it. “I thought I could build something with her but she just- didn’t fit. You understand?”
Christopher frowns. “What did you want to build with her?”
“A family.” His dad says. “I think.” He adds. “You remember the other day when you and Buck wanted to build this new Lego set?” Christopher nods, although he doesn’t really understand what that has something to do with Ana. She wasn’t there that day. They were with Buck the whole afternoon and she was busy with work.
He says nothing though, and waits for his dad to continue. And eventually, he does:
“You were nearly done with everything but then you realized that you were missing a brick, you remember? Except that it wasn’t really missing, wasn’t it?”
“No.” Christopher shakes his dead. “It wasn’t. Buck just got it wrong. He used it for something else when we started and we had to rebuild everything.” He adds with a smile.
“That’s what happened with me and Ana, buddy.” His dad answers and Christopher suddenly feels very confused. His dad notices it because he laughs and ruffles his hair for a few seconds. “I wanted to build something for us. I wanted to… I wanted to build a home for us. A family. And I thought that maybe she could be what was missing. I thought that maybe we could do that with her, you understand? But I was wrong.”
Christopher thinks about it for a few seconds and he guesses that it makes sense. When he builds a new Lego set with Buck, it always takes time. Sometimes they think they got everything right but it turns out they didn’t, at all, and they need to go back a few steps to be able to fix it. Maybe that’s just what happened with his dad and Ana.
“I get it, dad.” He says. “She wasn’t the right Lego brick.”
“Yeah buddy.” His dad lets out a small laugh. “She wasn’t the right Lego brick.”
“You’ll find the right one someday, dad. Don’t worry about it.” Christopher says, looking up at his dad with a large smile.
“Maybe you’re the only Lego brick I need, kiddo.” His dad says with a smile but his face gets sad again. Christopher gets it. He always gets very upset when he can’t find the right Lego brick to finish his set. Sometimes he settles with a brick that looks somehow like the right one; and in appearance, it looks great. His dad even says sometimes that he can’t really tell the difference. But Christopher can. Because he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t fit completely.
He usually always forgets about it, though. He tells himself that maybe it’s not really important in the end, that it doesn’t really matter as long as it’s standing.
But the missing brick is usually never far. Sometimes it’s been there all along, somewhere in his room, hidden under his bed, behind his bedside table or stuck between two books. And sometimes;
Sometimes it’s right in front of him. He just couldn’t see it, among all the other bricks.
And maybe that’s exactly what’s happening with his dad.
And so he asks:
“What about Buck?”
“What about Buck?” His dad repeats, his eyebrows raised in confusion while a confused smile breaks in on his face.
“You said Ana wasn’t the right Lego brick.” Christopher explains. “What about Buck?”
“What- what do you mean, Chris?” His father asks, his eyes filled with uncertainty.
“Dad.” Chris says, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. Maybe Buck’s your Lego brick.” He adds. “Maybe he’s our Lego brick.”
For a few seconds, his dad’s face gets even more confused, and Christopher thinks that maybe he really doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say but then his dad opens his eyes wide and he looks just like his friend Jaime at school when he finally understands a very complicated Math equation.
“Chris, I- how did you-”
Christopher only shrugs his shoulders another time. “You said you wanted to build a family with Ana but we already have one, dad. With Buck.”
“We- we really do, don’t we?” His dad says with a soft smile. “You think he’d agree with that?”
“Of course.” Christopher says. “We’re his Lego bricks, too.”
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Dr. Diaz and his stupidly cute patient
Warnings: Minor descriptions of injuries, but like blink and you miss it.
With the rush of fear of seeing his sister looking at him murderously, he didn’t pay attention to the doctor until he was close to Buck and then he was swallowing hard to contain the groan that threatened to escape his mouth. The doctor was gorgeous. Magazine cover worthy gorgeous. He was stunning, with the lab coat and a binder between his hands. He had the most amazing brown eyes and his hair looked so soft that Buck wanted to run his fingers through it until it was messy.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Buckley. Nice to see you back with us.” The doctor interrupted his inner thoughts which were basically singing poetry about how precious he was. Dang. Buck 1.0 would have asked for his number in that exact same moment. But he wasn’t like that anymore. Also, he probably looked like shit, so there was a very little chance of it working.
5+1 times Buck had an accident and Dr. Diaz had to patch him up.
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Now the Water is Rising (And I'm Too Tired to Swim)
Whumptober 2021, Day 20: Trapped under water
Eddie sighed as he drove down the winding road. It had been a long day of errands on his day off. He had gotten in a quick workout when he had woken up before getting Christopher up, getting breakfast for both of them, and then getting Christopher to PT. Then it had been groceries and laundry and paying bills before packing Christopher up and getting him to a sleepover.
Eddie was definitely a little tired. After all, it had been a busy day. So, he was looking forward to relaxing at home. And normally, he would have called Buck to come over and hang out. But, Buck was working. So, he’d just have to settle for relaxing at home alone. He could do that, right? He didn’t have to rely on Buck any time Christopher wasn’t around, right?”
“What the…'' He blinked, blaming the slight exhaustion for his momentary confusion as bright lights shined in his eyes. But then his eyes widened realizing what was happening.
He had just enough time to swerve as the car came speeding towards him. A curse left his lips as his truck slammed into the guard rail. His head slammed forward, pain shooting through him. And as he felt the car continuing to move, everything went dark.
Continue reading on Ao3
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'911' Fan Fic: Those Who Seek To Find
Genre: Gen, Action, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship; Missing Scene for 5.02 "Desperate Times
Characters: Buck, Eddie, Hen, Chim, and Amir
Summary: Buck controls the animals, but at what cost? And through it all, he still doesn't stop worrying about Eddie.
Buck had never been more grateful that he spent a pathological portion of his recovery from the truck bombing watching Planet Earth, and absorbing obscure facts about all types of wildlife.
But as he stood in the gigantic shadow of an approaching, trumpeting elephant, he realized that knowing that an elephant's trunk has over 40,000 muscles wouldn't save him from being brained by said trunk. Arming himself with facts had always dulled the blade of anxiety had that been at this throat since the ladder truck bombing (or was it the tsunami?), and it was just now as he stood without smushing distance of a 13-foot-tall, seven-ton pachyderm that laid waste to that flimsy facade of control over chaos.
Buck gripped the halligan in his hand, and gulped down fear. He was petrified in a way he hadn't been since Eddie's blood had been splattered in his face, a hot and coppery mist in the middle of an otherwise beautiful day. Chim and Eddie worked to stabilize Amir's leg, and Buck chanced a warning, "Whatever you do, do not look behind you," he gritted out through clenched teeth.
The elephant chuffed and snorted, looming overhead, swinging its trunk like a leathery wrecking ball. Sweat bourne of adrenaline and trepidation dripped into his eyes, burning, and blurring the beast ahead of him. In deference of action, Buck puffed up his chest, adding a few centimeters of width to his frame and stared just left of its enormous head, and watched its ears twitch and flap. Elephants, for obvious reasons, had no reason to be afraid or aggressive towards humans unless they were protecting themselves or their babies. And despite its gulp-inducing size, there was a gentleness in his eyes.
Fighting his own hard-wired instincts, Buck lowered the halligan and tried to soften his face and energy, even though his cheeks were trembling.
With the shift in his aura, the elephant strolled past, disinterested, each step rattling and shaking the roadway beneath it.
Still on guard, Buck left out a puff of relieved air, willing his lungs to unadhere to his ribcage.
Except even as the elephant disappeared into the quiet, smoky chaos of Hollywood Boulevard, Buck didn’t dare drop his guard. A quick glance behind him showed that while Chim had gotten Amir’s leg stabilized, and were flushing the alpaca vomit out of his eyes, and they needed more time. Buck fended off a caravan of bellowing camels with just bravado, his halligan, and sheer luck.
Holding back the panic is a tougher job than scaring away the animals, as this is the one thing that they weren’t trained for in the academy. Buck just had to go with his gut and pray that was enough to keep his team safe.
Behind him, Amir sighed in audible relief as the goop was flushed from his irritated eyes.
A second later it was followed by a growl so ferocious, it rattled his bones with a primal fervor. His entire body went rigid, muscles solidifying like the tumblers snapped in a lock. Buck needed to see the threat to confirm what three visits to the zoo and a half-dozen insomniac rewatches of Planet Earth would confirm. He slowly tilted his head over his shoulder and found himself face to snout with an impressively large wolf. The Los Angeles sun gleamed off his thick marbled gray coat and his sizeable mouth.
Wolves were fearful of humans and generally kept their distance, but the blood from Amir’s compound leg fracture and their newfound frenzied freedom must have eroded their skittishness.
Because wolves never hunted alone, odds are the pack is surrounding them, planning to capitalize on their distraction.
Bobby told him to control the animals and to trust his instincts, and it’s the only directive he’s never disobeyed. So Evan Buckley swooped down the paralyzing fear to swipe up a few of the discarded, blood-sodden bandages and sprinted away from Eddie and Chim, and a now agitated Amir. The detritus that lined the streets as the result of crowds of people in pell-mell flight and destruction from the animals themselves. Buck slipped and skidded on the leaflets and pamphlets that paved the ground, but he didn’t dare stop. He heard the scrape of claws on pavement and the echo of a lupine howl over the surge of wind in his ears.
He careened through plumes of smoke, hurdled an overturned newspaper dispenser, and got a face full of gritty water from a broken fountain spigot. And the beasts were on him. Wolves could easily outpace humans, so Buck zigged and zagged, cutting in sharp, unpredictable diagonals, which his knees and legs complained about, especially the one buttressed by titanium. Buck had been a football star in high school and briefly in college, incredibly nimble and lethally fast, but that speed was hampered by a crushed leg and the fact that he was wearing his heavy turnouts. His boots stole athletic grace and replaced it with a bumpy flailing stride. The only positive was that it made him a better target than Eddie, Chim, and their patient.
But he was getting tired. The wide-open courtyard crisscrossed with a canopy of skywalks choked down into narrow streets. He had put a decent amount of distance between the wolves and their patient, and Buck’s lungs and thighs were burning, core cramping from the flat-out run. So he started scanning the storefronts for a place to hide like the prey he was.
He flew around a rounded street corner that opened up into an intersection flanked by manicured hedges and flower-filled planters. Something in the road choked his stride, and he fell face-first into the pavement. Buck managed to catch himself on his hands, knees cracking loudly against the ground as he landed sloppily half on the sidewalk, legs spilling into the curb.
Buck didn’t have the luxury of going fetal and cursing through his pain like he wanted as the wolves approached with intensifying growls. Buck needed to escape but all he could see were the huge paws and bone-crushing jaws approaching him with a bloodthirsty swagger. Wolves were far bigger than he ever imagined.
Maybe one day, Buck would laugh about being the key player in a twisted, real-life Jumanji or Little Red Riding Hood, but at this moment, he’s fairly sure that the heroes in fairytales didn’t piss themselves in utter panic when the beast’s mouth locked around his ankle with a crushing force.
They definitely fought back.
The boots that had hampered his speed offered protection from its serrated bite, though the pressure around the limb was immense. And then he remembered the halligan was in his hands—a firefighter's favorite multi-purpose tool. Part pry-bar, part-lock breaker, part wolf deterrent. He tightened his grip on the metal bar and swung the billed end down towards its nose. As scared as he was, Buck still couldn’t stomach killing an animal that was just acclimating to the same madness that had humans looting and fighting each other in the streets.
Even still, it connected with a sickening crunch followed by a shrill whimper. Buck scuttled backward, whipping the halligan in a wide arc to protect his space and deter the threat. There was a part of Buck that marveled at the sheer size and majesty of the alpha that circled him with a ferocious curiosity. He didn’t see the other wolf approaching laterally until it was so close it was just a gnashing teeth that were so close to his face that they looked like bony knives and the tangy stench of unwashed fur and musty breath.
Gasping, Buck threw himself back to avoid being mauled in the face. He scrambled away as he flung his halligan wildly. The closer wolf retreated, which gave Buck the chance to pivot his hips to smash the window of the storefront behind him. The noise didn’t deter the pair of wolves, though one did skitter backward, alarmed, which gave him an opening to dive through the broken window, limned with shards of glass, and tumble harshly into the convenience store proper.
Except he’d shimmied back a foot, and slammed into a plywood wall painted white.
Because he’d broken a window display that was sealed in on all sides, trapping him with marked-down Hollywood t-shirts and face masks. The alpha wolf, all dropped head and fur so bristled with aggression that it stood in clumped spikes almost as sharp as his teeth, approached with savage confidence. Buck palmed behind him, searching the halligan he’d thrown through the window.
It sat three feet away in a pile of glass.
The second, larger wolf, joined the fray, boxing him in. They advanced, growling and snarling like the even monsters out of a horror movie. All that was missing were the glowing red eyes and the intense musical score. Pressed against the wall, Buck stared the beasts down while his mind raced for another thing he could do, any advantage he could gain. Did wolves really run away if you punched them in the nose?
Buck was about to find out.
With a snarl that inspired as a lightning bolt of dread to zip through his body, lying waste to all rational thought, the alpha prepared to leap. But before it could, there was a deafening trumpet that nearly shattered Buck’s eardrums.
The wolves skittered and scratched the pavement before bolting in a terrified retreat. The bull elephant scraped a foot over the ground, waving its ears in warning before lumbering away again.
Buck’s entire body, rigid from fear and puffed up with determination, deflated like an untied balloon, and he flopped back against the plywood of the display. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, and focused on his breathing so he wouldn’t throw up.
Wearily, he brought a shaking hand up to the radio clipped on his chest to check in with his team when pain starburst in wrist, shooting outward in vicious ripples. Its descent was so abrupt and extraordinary, Buck felt an irrational anger. There was a featherlight prickling of his skin and Buck batted at it, recognizing the gold winged tail of some kind of scorpion. With a shudder of revulsion, he flung it off his arm and onto the sunlit pavement.
Where it was immediately scooped up and eaten by a brown bird of prey with an impressive wingspan and mottled brown plumage.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Buck panted through clenched teeth as he flopped on his back.
The scorpion’s sting throbbed in time with his cantoring heart and lungs, and Buck could only think about the potency of the venom and how fast it would take hold because he was so keyed up. He took several cleansing breaths, pausing a few times to curse through cresting pain. Now that he was calmer, he found the latched door to a crawl space to get out of the window display. In the abandoned store, he commandeered a bottle of water to wash skewered his arm.
His radio crackled and then sprung to life. It was Bobby worriedly demanding his location. His time abroad had taught him a few things about scorpion stings, and though they were venomous, they were mostly survivable. The city was being held ransom by hackers, and panic was being drowned out by rage and desperation, which meant they were already stretched to the point of breaking. Buck pulled the sleeve down on his turnout coat and pocketed the bottle of water, and radioed his captain.
A fire station is anything but private. A fire station that’s housing all its active-duty members at once was like existing in a fishbowl. Firefighters, as tough as they were, thrived on house gossip, too. Buck wasn’t exactly concealing an injury, he rationalized as he managed to swipe a cool pack from Hen’s ambulance to quell the tingling heat of the sting. His scorpion sting resembled a small little volcano with a wide base of inflamed crimson that rose to the peak of the sting in the center, an angry puncture that was turning into a vivid, disgusting blister. It erupted with a fiery ache that had settled deep in his arm with a tingling pressure that triggered a roiling sickness in his stomach.
So there he found himself crouched over the toilet in the most distant stall of the communal bathroom as his stomach spasmed and gurgled with nausea and a cold sweat soaked him. By the time the worst of the nausea had subsided, Buck had been hollowed out by dry-heaves and still looked faintly green. He staggered out of the bathroom and the heat of the firehouse, thanks to the state-mandated generator use, and it only compelled how truly awful he felt. He only had the choice to white-knuckle it through the never-ending shift from hell.
He soaked a hand towel in cold water and pressed it to his neck, swearing he saw tendrils of steam rise and heard a sizzle as the wet meant the heat of his skin. The relief nearly brought him to tears. The muffled squeak of boots on tile. Buck straightened his back, swallowed down another surge of bile, and attempted to resemble a human being. Eddie jogged in and parked himself at a urinal with a long-suffering sigh. “I would pay one-thousand actual dollars for an ice-cold beer.”
Just the thought of foamy hops made Buck’s stomach gurgle its displeasure. He braced himself against the sink as Eddie’s rant continued.
“...and $2,000 for a five-pound bag of ice.”
“I’ll pitch in on that one,” Buck said as he slowly blotted his neck, leeching every scintilla of cold comfort from it the damp towel.
Eddie flushed and ventured over to the sink, dutifully scrubbing his hands in the cold water. Buck wanted to ask him about his most recent call. He wanted to complain about how miserable he was and tell him about the elephant and the wolves and the scorpion and the condor. But there was the matter of the fucking cardiologist hovering between them. The thought that Eddie might not be okay made Buck queasier than the venom.
Eddie was infamous for his tendency to repress emotions and trauma until he damn near self-destructed, except Buck had always been able to navigate around his armor to reach the heart within. And he’d been there in the four grueling months of mental and physical recovery, cheering him on, supporting him any way he could. Now he was being boxed out of Eddie’s life now, and maybe Eddie was entitled to his secrets, but not from Buck, and not about something that involved his health.
Eddie reached for a paper towel, his cinnamon brown eyes catching Buck’s in the mirror. They widened for a second and the crumpled paper fluttered to the ground in his shock at Buck’s appearance. It looked perversely like a scorpion. “Wha—you look like hell? What’s wrong?”
Buck pressed a fist to his mouth, breathing through another bout of nausea, and shrugged. “Nothing I need a cardiologist for,” he even managed a devilish grin when he said it.
Eddie held his eyes in the mirror, jaw dropped in disbelief before they theatrically rolled in irritation. “You’re like a dog with a bone. Seriously, let it go.”
“Yeah, because there’s no reason why your health would be any concern to me. I’m just your best friend and the guy you willed your kid to.”
“You don’t give up, do you, Buck?”
Buck turned to look at Eddie in the flesh, not just a reflection, whole and healthy in front of him, and fought back tears as he was overcome with such conviction that it decimated the pain of the scorpion sting and the cuts from the plate glass window and bruises from the fall. “For someone I care about? Never.” Buck tossed his rag in the sink, turned on his heel, and headed for the exit.
As he passed through the doorway into the impressive humidity of the garage, he heard Eddie reply, “Thanks, Buck.”
Buck managed a soft smile. Eddie’s resolve was crumbling, and hopefully, Buck would be there before he did.
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There’s a knock on his door — he thinks it’s the doctor telling him he can leave, but a familiar blonde head and worried blue eyes appear instead.
“I didn’t think they’d call you,” he says, eyes fixed on the ground because he can’t bear to look anywhere else. If he looks at Buck’s face for too long right now, he knows he’ll break.
“They call emergency contacts whenever you get admitted, even if you don’t stay overnight. Learned that the hard way.” There’s a scrape of wood across linoleum as Buck pulls a chair over to the bed Eddie’s sitting on, warm hands covering his, stilling the fine tremors that are still running through them. He feels small and weak and awful, but Buck’s here, and it’s helping.
“A panic attack, huh?” Buck asks, trying for casual but missing by a mile, his voice cracking in the middle.
Eddie shrugs. “Thought it was something else.”
“Like a heart attack?”
He feels his cheeks heat up, because that’s exactly what he thought, but hearing it from someone else just makes him feel ridiculous. Untethered. Like he’s spinning out on black ice. “All these dramatics for nothing, I guess.” His laugh sounds fake, his smile feels hollow, and he knows Buck can tell.
“It’s not dramatics, Eds. Panic attacks are no joke.”
“I know, but—” he stares up at the ceiling, still avoiding Buck’s eyes, doing his best to make traitorous tears flow back into his head. “This shouldn’t be happening. I’m back at work, I’m done with PT, everything should be fine!” He doesn’t mean to snap, his words are sharper than he meant for them to be, but he’s tired of feeling so helpless, so out of control.
Buck, to his credit, doesn’t flinch or move away. Instead, he moves closer, threads their fingers together. “You need to talk to someone, Eddie. Keeping this all to yourself isn’t making anything better, clearly.”
“No,” he says with a sigh. ”I’m— I’ll be alright. I just need—”
“Help,” Buck squeezes his hands in emphasis. “You need help because I can’t keep running in here every six months thinking I’m going to have to raise Christopher with you gone. You need help and he needs you.”
That stops him in his tracks, because he knows Buck’s right. Chris needs him and he desperately needs Chris. He’s not sure how else he’d get through this. “He needs you too,” Eddie whispers. “Especially if I can’t— if I’m not okay enough to—”
His eyes move to the floor again, and Buck ducks down, forces him to meet his eye. “He needs both of us. We need each other. So we’re gonna find you a therapist so you can keep being there for him like I know you want to be.”
“And you.” The words fall out of him before he can stop them, the exhaustion completely frying the filter in his brain. But Buck is here, came running when he thought Eddie was hurt, and it’s everything. More than everything. “I want to keep being there for you too.”
Buck squeezes his hands again, like he’s joining them together, sealing them, the promise of a future, a good future, side by side, always.
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tumblr ate the first write up of this and i’m mad about it but this is still hella cute if i do say so myself. because @hoechlder is the worst and knew exactly what her tags were doing on this gifset. I SEE YOU. anyway the title is hilarious, don’t @ me.
ice ice baby
eddie/buck, soft soft fucking soft
“Ice goes on the eye, buddy,” Eddie says.
Buck sighs, dutifully lifting the bag of ice to his eye. He flinches, but slides it against the bruise. “S’cold.”
“It’s ice,” Eddie says, grinning when Buck gives him a look.
Predictably, it doesn’t take long for Buck to shift the conversation into something else, but Eddie’s looking for it and a few minutes into Buck’s plans for the weekend and where they’re taking Chris, the bag of ice is dropped against Buck’s knee.
“Buck,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. He slides his beer amongst the empties already on the small table. He steps between Buck’s legs, taking the ice out of his hand. “It won’t heal if you don’t keep it there.”
“I know,” Buck bites out. Up close, his eye looks angrier, red thickening into a dark purple and Eddie winces on his behalf. He picks up the bag of ice and presses it to Buck’s eye, free hand resting at the nape of Buck’s neck. Buck hisses, tries to move away from the ice; Eddie’s grip is gentle but firm, and though Buck grits his teeth, he stays. “It hurts.”
Eddie nods. “I know.”
The silence between them feels heavy and thick with something Eddie can’t name. Buck’s mouth is parted, and Eddie can see his throat bob, words dying on his tongue before he can say anything. When Buck moves, the beer bottle clinks against the others, the sound loud against the silence between them.
Buck’s eyes are bright and blue against the red of his bruise, the birthmark still visible between the pinks, reds, and purples. The silence stretches, settles around Eddie like a comfortable blanket, and he moves his hand, fingers sliding to the side of Buck’s neck, then up to his cheek. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t want to stop, not with the way Buck’s watching him, waiting. Eddie’s thumb is pressed to the warm, smooth skin under Buck’s right eye. It heats a little more as Buck flushes, but Eddie doesn’t stop.
“Eddie,” Buck says softly, his name carrying easily on the small balcony.
A hand rests against Eddie’s hip, fingers sliding up and under his dress shirt. Buck’s breath hitches and the fingers of his free hand wrap around Eddie’s arm, Buck’s cheek turning into his wrist. It’s soft and intimate, and Eddie lets out a slow breath, feels good and happy for the first time in so long. His fingers move to Buck’s hair, stroking gently through thick strands.
Buck tips forward, the right side of his face turned awkwardly into Eddie’s stomach until Eddie moves gently, keeping the ice against Buck’s face as he manages to find a comfortable way for Buck to lean against him. He resumes stroking Buck’s hair with soft, soothing motions. “You’re so good, Evan.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Buck says, the words almost muffled against Eddie’s stomach.
Eddie crouches down, the bag of ice dripping against the floor as it lowers. “Hey,” he says, lifting Buck’s chin when he tries to look away. “Sometimes it won’t be, but that’s not on you. You’re more than enough and if someone can’t see that, then they’re dumb.”
Buck stares at him, apprehension flicking across his face. “Do you see it?”
“I see all of you,” Eddie says without hesitation.
“Eddie,” Buck says and Eddie pushes up, fingers once again on the back of Buck’s neck. Their lips meet, Buck’s hand fisting in the front of Eddie’s shirt. The kiss turns hot, perfect, and when they part, Buck’s lips are curved into a smile.
Eddie meets it with one of his own.
“What?” Eddie asks, feeling his chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with panic at the way Buck looks at him, sees him.
Buck grins, lifting Eddie’s hand still wrapped around the bag of ice. “Ice goes on the eye.”
Eddie barks a laugh, but dutifully presses the ice back to Buck’s eye. He leans forward for another kiss, and Buck meets him halfway.
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Sometimes it's all three.
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Crazy In Love
Eddie Diaz x Reader
Warnings: mentions of injuries, Eddie can’t do math or cook for shit, friends to lovers :)))
Word Count: 2.1k
Author’s Note: takes place after Stuck (2x04) when abuela breaks her hip. Also, this was supposed to be for 911 readers week but I didn’t finish it in time sooooo just take it now instead :)
The phone rang, your arm stretched over the pile of dishes on the counter. “Hello ?” you answered, putting it on speaker and setting it back down.
Eddie’s voice rang through the speaker, echoing through the empty apartment. “Hey, can you do me a huge favour ?”
“If you're gonna ask me to bake a cake, I have literally no time, honey. I’m really sorry but I need to finish this order-” Eddie sounds like he cut himself off before saying something as you explain that you’re busy.
“Eds? Are you there ?”
“Yeah- yeah, I'm here.”
“You’re busy, I don’t want to bother you.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes because no matter how busy you are, you always made time for Eddie. He sighs heavily, so much so that you can hear him thinking.
“Eddie, what is it ?”
“Can you pick Chris up from school ? I know you’re busy but if you can’t, that’s ok-” “of course I can pick him up!”
The sound of a breath being released before a feminine voice called out for him. “I gotta go, Abuela needs me but he’s off at 3. Thank you, y/n - really.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Eddie.”
He mumbles something before hanging up. You glance at the phone screen - 2:24. You had enough time to change and shove the dishes in the dishwasher before having to head out so you did just that.
You had picked up Christopher from school a million times. His teachers knew you well enough that Eddie no longer had to call and let them know he wouldn't be picking up Chris but that you would be.
Standing outside of the school, the PTA parents were gossiping within their little bubbles, talking about the other members behind their backs but smiling in their faces. You bit back a smile before walking towards the gate. The students were lined up by the door, waiting for the bell to ring.
The moment it does, the students come running out with their teacher a few feet behind them in an attempt to keep up with them. One by one, their teacher lets them out, Christopher finally spotting you and this teacher waves hello as they open the gate for him.
“Y/n! What are you doing here!?” his little face lights up with a smile.
“Your dad asked me to come get you, he's with abuela.”
The two of you start making your way back to the car when Christopher asks you what his plans for the afternoon were. Soon you realized that Eddie didn’t give you any explanation as to where to go or what to do after you picked up Chris.
“How does ice cream and then abuela’s sound ?”
“Can we take some for her and dad too?” Chris asks as you help him into the car.
“Of course we can.”
Christopher was lugging his backpack over his shoulder when you knocked on the door, two containers of ice cream in hand. Eddie opens the door, grinning at his son whose face matches his father’s.
“Hey kiddo” Eddie kneels, wrapping the boy in his arms. Christopher’s arms extend around his father, “hi dad, we bought ice cream” he points out the obvious.
Eddie glances up at you, the ice cream tucked under your arm - he flashes you a smile.
“Oh yeah?” he lets go of Chris. “Did you have any?”
“No,” he shakes his head, his hair flopping around as he snickers. Eddie pushes the hair from Christopher’s forehead. “So what’s this on your face?” swiping his finger on Chris’s chin, a little smudge of brown on his finger from the leftover ice cream.
“Paint.” Chris smiles at his father sweetly.
“Uh huh, paint.” he chuckles, stepping aside for Chris to come further into the house.
“Thanks for picking him up,” he leans on the door frame, stretching and his arms lift above his head as he does. You can’t help but glance down at the area of exposed skin - eyes glued to the man in front of you.
“Y/n?” Eddie’s waving his hands in front of you, eyes raising from their previous spot to his face - the blush was creeping up on your face whilst that stupid smug smile of his was on his.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t be.”
“Are you sure?”
Stepping in, you take in the house. You had been by Isabel’s once or twice before but you had never come inside the house. The walls were painted a warm yellow colour, the furniture was spotless as was the rest of the house. Isabel sat on the couch with Chris beside her as he told her about his day at school.
“Chris, did you wash your hands?” Eddie calls, the door shutting. Chris doesn't answer which is an answer in itself. “Go now, please.” Eddie’s voice sounds closer, glancing behind you to see him beside you.
Chris grumbles but gets up, Isabel turns her attention to you and Eddie. “How are you feeling ?”
“As well as someone can with a broken hip” she gives you a smile.
“I’m glad you’re okay, you gave Eddie a scare” giving him a playful shove. “We got ice cream, vanilla and toffee. Chris said toffee was your favourite” handing her the small container. “It is, thank you. That’s so sweet of you.” she smiles, pulling the top off.
“No need to thank me, it was Christopher’s idea.”
“Ah, well I'll thank him when he comes back out.” she says smiling, “Eddie, a spoon please ?” she glances at the man beside you. He hums, stepping away for a moment to get her a spoon.
Chris comes running back in after washing his hands. “Dad! Can we stay over? Abuela said it was okay” he’s beside his father now, looking up at him with his big brown eyes that were practically begging him to let him.
You, Eddie and Isabel all knew that Christopher had his father wrapped around his finger and would ultimately get his way but Eddie had to give him a fatherly response and say no, they should go home. Isabel doesn't usually butt in but this time she did.
“Mijo, stay. I could use the company.” She says, patting the spot beside her and Chris makes his way over to sit beside her.
Eddie sighs, if he had a soft spot, it was for the two people on the couch. “Fine, just tonight then.”
Isabel smiles, satisfied with his answer. “y/n, stay for dinner darling. Eddie’s cooking” “Yea- who said I was cooking?” Eddie butts in, shocked at the assumption. “I did, mijo. Don’t worry, I'll tell you what to do.”
“Buddy, why don’t you finish up your homework so you can relax for the rest of the night ?” Eddie calls out to Chris, who again groans. He loved school but despised homework - as did most kids.
“I have math, I need help so I can’t do it because you’re busy.” Chris says plainly, thinking his statement will get him out of his math work because Eddie can’t do math for shit.
“I can help.”
“Y/n, you don't have to-” “no, it’s fine. C’mon kiddo” Chris grumbles, making his way to the dining room table, the two of you taking a seat when Eddie helps Isabel up and to the kitchen.
You can hear them talking and her telling Eddie to cut things a certain way or not to put too much of something into the pot. It only took 20 minutes for Christopher to finish his math homework, he brought it into the kitchen to show his dad.
“Look! I’m done! Math’s easy when you understand it.” that last bit was a little dig at Eddie and his math skills. You ruffled Chris’s hair as he walked back into the living room.
“Did he just-” Eddie watches his son make his way to the couch.
You hold back a laugh,“Mhm hm” Eddie shakes his head, chuckling. “Here, taste this.” he picks up some sauce from the pot, holding the spoon over his hand before handing it to Isabel.
Her face twists when she tastes it, “Eddie, I love you honey, but that’s terrible.” you press your lips together, holding back a chuckle.
“What?” he pouts, sighing. “I swear it tasted fine ten minutes ago.” sitting beside Isabel in defeat.
You pick up another spoon and taste some for yourself, your expression matching Isabel’s from moments ago. Eddie had remembered to put everything in, except the paprika and the salt, you add a bit of both and stir the pot. Taking the spoon from Eddie, you pick up a bit of the sauce and hand it back to Isabel.
“Ah, that’s better.” she hums, making you smile as she hands you back the spoon. Eddie sighs, letting you know that he was still there.
"Why don’t you go see if Christopher wants to watch something or if he wants a snack ?” his grandmother nudged him, a signal for him to leave the kitchen. “y/n can take over for you”
“Abuela, you can’t invite them in and have them work for their dinner.” he says, making her laugh.
“It’s okay Eds,” waving him off. “I don’t mind, really.”
Eddie left the kitchen and made his way over to the couch, listening as Chris told him about his day. He glanced back to see if everything was alright but he noticed that the two of you were laughing as you told Isabel something. Eddie would be lying if his heart didn’t skip a beat.
He stopped seeking his parents’ approval of who he dated- for a matter of fact, it went out the window when he brought Shannon home the first time but seeing you with an abuela made him so warm and happy, he couldn't help but smile.
Eddie’s hand slipped onto your hip, his chest against your back. “Can I help you, Eddie?” you mumble, your eyes on the dishes in front of you.
He hums, hands coming around and arms now wrapped around your waist. Eddie felt your wet hands pull his hands off of you, “Isabel and Chris are in the other room, stop it”
His head tilted, that innocent look on his face, “stop what?”
“Eddie,” turning to face him, “shh I don’t want to hear it” he cuts you off, hands back on your waist.
“I don’t think I've ever loved someone the way I love you.” His words come off so sweet and loving but hit you like a ton of bricks.
You loved Eddie, more than anything but you had never actually told him nor did you ever feel the need too. It was always implied that as friends, you loved and cared about each other.
Eddie always knew he loved you, there was never any question about that but something about you, seeing you with an abuela and how great you were with Christopher (as you always were) just pushed him over the edge.
He had to tell you.
“Y/n, you know I love you- and before you say anything, I know I’ve never actually said it to you but I didn’t feel like I had too, you knew I did.”
You were still gathering your thoughts, trying to come up with the words to tell him you loved him too but Eddie’s expression changed. His brows furrowed, eyes studying your face - the worry had set in.
What if you didn’t feel the same way ? God, he’d feel so stupid if he embarrassed himself like that.
The years of friendship were enough for you to realize how he was feeling. You were lacking words and you know what they say, actions speak louder than words.
Your hands reach for his face, now cupping his cheeks. Your lips meet his, he pulls you closer to him- if that's even possible. It was a few moments before you pulled away.
Eddie smiles lovingly at you and you’re sure you have the same expression plastered on your face. “Um- I think that says it.” you hum, smiling at him.
“Doesn't mean you can't say it,” he pokes fun at you, making you roll your eyes playfully.
“I love you.”
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5x7 spec because why not?
Eddie is numb. He barely breathes, can hardly think—it’s as though ice has been injected directly into his veins, flooding through him, freezing everything—he knows he’s moving but only because he can’t seem to fight the hands pulling at him.
He’s trapped in a scene. All he knows, all he sees, is Buck darting forward, Buck being hit over the head with the edge of a gun, Buck falling to the ground, blood trickling from his hairline—
Eddie’s throat is raw from the force of Buck’s name tearing out of it. And his ears are still ringing from the raw, panicked scream of his own that Buck returned.
When he had his panic attack, it started in his chest. This time—
There’s no pain. No stabbing needles in his lungs. He can’t even feel his chest.
He thinks maybe his heart is still in the other room.
He’s shoved down—
“I’m a good person, you know,” the warden says as he pulls Eddie’s arms around the back of a chair and starts wrapping Eddie’s wrists in rope. Eddie almost wants to laugh—might have if not for the ice crowding his lungs, squeezing out the air.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I have some doubts about that,” Eddie replies. His voice is foreign to his own ears.
—blood trickling down Buck’s face—
“Your friend should be fine. He was just in the way.”
“Don’t.” It snaps out of him, the warning crack of a frozen lake—danger, retreat—the final notice before you plunge into water. “Don’t talk about him.”
The warden snorts and rolls his eyes as he pulls the knot tight on Eddie’s wrists.
“Whatever,” he mutters. A moment later, he hisses and staggers on his feet, catching himself on the edge of the chair.
Eddie twists around over his shoulder to look the best he can manage. There’s a dark red stain spreading slowly across the tan fabric of the man’s uniform shirt just above his lower back. They had missed it earlier, too busy looking at the slashes on his arms that they now know were self-inflicted, at the blood from those that stained much of the rest of his uniform.
“So you weren’t just faking,” Eddie says.
“You—” Eddie stops, something dark and vicious and bitter stopping his throat. Does he really have an obligation here? To help a man who preys upon the helpless and abuses his authority? A man who could have killed Buck? A man who took him hostage at gunpoint?
The blood, that area—if he was stabbed, it could have hit a kidney. Or something could have broken off inside his body, not causing any problems until it shifted. He could bleed out. He could die.
Eddie could let him.
That dark, vicious piece of him wants to let him.
He’s a better fucking person than that.
“Were you stabbed in the riot earlier?” He asks. “You’re bleeding.”
The warden tries to twist to look and hisses again. The stain spreads wider.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Stop trying to trick me. I’m not going to untie you.”
Eddie’s jaw clenches. So much for trying to be a good person.
The warden gets worse as the hours slip by. As he negotiates with SWAT. His skin pales, sweat beading across his brow, and he starts shaking—
Eddie blows out a frustrated breath.
“You’re going to die, you know,” he says finally. “You don’t have to—you could let me go. I could help you. We could walk out of this building and get you real medical attention—”
“They’ll arrest me,” the warden spits. “I’ll go to jail.”
“What, are you afraid of karma?” Eddie shoots back. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.”
The gun cocks and Eddie freezes.
“Shut up. Just shut up. I’m getting out of here. Whether you are too depends on you.”
“You kill me, that’s it,” Eddie points out, trying to keep his voice steady even as he feels like there’s a scream trapped behind his teeth. “You have no more leverage. You’ll be dead the minute you walk out that door even if you don’t bleed out in here first. Or you can let me help you and at least you’ll have a chance.”
Their eyes lock and hold. Eddie refuses to blink first. If he’s going to die tied to a chair, he’s damn well going to keep his head up.
The warden blinks. He pushes himself up off the floor and slowly makes his way across the room.
Eddie swallows when the gun presses against the back of his skull. But then—
The ropes around his wrists fall away.
“Okay,” the warden says. “Save me.”
Eddie nods once. “Give me the phone. I’ll tell them we’re coming out.”
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Breakfast in Bed
Summary: Buck goes feral seeing the reader making him breakfast while wearing a shirt with his name on it.
Pairing: (female) Reader x Evan Buckley
Warning: 18+ FOR LANGUAGE AND SMUT MINORS DNI
Includes: Food mentions, dirty talk, unprotected sex, discussion of making babies, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: Evan Buckley deserves everything good in this world, and the tight long-sleeve LAFD shirts make me feral hehe. @jillys-feral-fandoms happy feral friend thursday my love!
If you asked Buck, waking to an empty bed was a fate far worse than death, he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. Especially when the person he was hoping to see in his bed the morning after the longest twenty-four-hour shift in history was you. He’d gotten home late the night before, well past eleven p.m., and he hadn’t expected you to be awake, so he wasn’t surprised when he’d pushed into his bedroom when he got home and saw you curled up in the sheets. Your mouth was slightly opened as you breathed softly through your slumber.
Buck had smiled at your sleeping form, stripping himself of his long-sleeve, navy-blue LAFD shirt and his pants. More than anything in the world, Buck wanted to curl up with the woman he loved more than any other and sleep this exhausting shift off. His movements as he’d slid into bed must had jostled you enough to wake you.
“Buck?” Your voice, thick with sleep, had murmured as Buck had pulled your back against his chest. “Is that you?”
“Well, it’s not Hen,” Buck had grinned, feeling you huff out a little laugh at that.
“How was work?” You’d yawned.
“Full moon,” Buck had replied. Your returning groan was enough to tell him that you’d understood him perfectly and he didn’t need to elaborate.
“I’m glad you’re home,” You’d hummed, flipping in his arms to burrow your face into his chest. “I missed you, my love.”
“Mmm, I missed you too,” Buck had whispered, kissing your forehead. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
“You too,” You’d said quietly. “Sweet dreams, firefighter Buckley.”
Buck had watched your eyes flutter shut with a smile, seeing you fall asleep so peacefully in his arms. You’d told him once a few weeks ago that you never slept better than when you were in his arms, claiming that you felt your safest when he held you tightly. He hadn’t let on just how much that sentiment had taken his breath away, but when those words had come out of your mouth, he couldn’t believe the way his heart had literally skipped a beat. Knowing that he made you feel safe made Buck pulse with pride, he wanted nothing more than for you to be comfortable, safe, and happy with him.
A little chuckle had bubbled out of him at the tiny snore that had worked its way out of your mouth then. Even snoring and asleep, Buck couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. He would never understand how he could be so lucky to have found a woman as beautiful, and kind, and generous as you.
He’d been with Christopher and Eddie at a farmer’s market when he ran into you while trying to show off for Christopher – literally ran into you and dropped all your produce all over the ground. Of course, he’d felt so bad that he’d bought you replacements for it all even when you assured him that he didn’t have to. Buck had also gotten you a bouquet of daisies by way of apologies, and that was when he realized that he would spare nothing to see that look of delight and joy on your face.
It had taken Buck a little bit longer than you to be lulled to sleep last night, but once he did finally fall asleep, he was out like a rock. A slumber so deep and restorative had captured him throughout the night that he hadn’t even heard you get up in the morning, thus waking up in an empty bed. He practically whined, stretching his body out to your side of the bed and feeling his hands slip over cold sheets; you’d been up for a lot longer than he realized. He missed waking up with you, and he was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to this morning, but he had tomorrow off too, and he wasn’t going to let you slip out of bed so sneakily tomorrow.
With a groan, Buck pushed up to a seated position in bed and scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. The smell of bacon wafted into the bedroom along with the sounds of pans and pots being moved around in the kitchen. Buck grinned at the idea of you cooking breakfast for the two of you to share, he could practically picture how domestic you looked in his kitchen, and suddenly he was pushing out of bed to get to you as soon as possible.
Buck had moved to grab the long-sleeve shirt he’d come home in last night, but it was nowhere to be found, odd. Deciding to just go shirtless instead, Buck yawned into a stretch and made his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen in just his boxers. As he rounded the corner to find you in the kitchen, it was like his heart literally stopped beating. You were stood at the stove making bacon, wearing Buck’s long-sleeve LAFD shirt, your little lacy panties, and socks. And that was it. When he saw the name “Buckley” stretched across your back before you turned around to face him, Buck swore his mouth watered at the sight of you covered in his name.
“Good morning, sleepy-head,” You grinned at him. “Did you sleep well?”
All he could do was stare at you, the sight of you in his shirt waking feelings in him that had been long dormant. Knowing that you were stamped with his name on your back made him so fucking feral he couldn’t stop himself from imagining you with his last name on your driver’s license – a big, bright diamond shining on your finger to tell everyone else in the world that you were his, and only his.
“Buck,” You said with confusion, not understanding the groan that left his lips at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. “Honey, are you alright?”
“Uh huh,” Buck nodded, strutting into the kitchen.
“Really,” You said, grabbing his jaw to pull him down for a good morning kiss, the dominance held in the move making him shiver. Another shiver rolled down his spine when you murmured against Buck’s lips, “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed your shirt.”
“It looks much better on you than on me,” Buck grinned, letting his hands rest on your hips. “Love seeing you out here playing house in my clothes.”
“Yeah?” You grinned. “You like thinking of me being your good little housewife?” Buck groaned, dragging your hips forward to grind against his slightly.
“The best little housewife in the world,” Buck nodded, dropping his head to kiss the soft skin of your neck. “You should turn off the burner,” He added when he noticed you were finished making the bacon that was in the frying pan.
“I need it for the eggs,” You protested, grabbing his forearm when he moved to turn the burner off on his own. “Or don’t you want breakfast?”
“Hmm,” Buck hummed. “I think I know something that I’d rather eat right here.”
A squeal left your beautiful lips as Buck used his firefighting strength to lift you straight off your feet and sat you on the counter, standing between your thighs as a way to keep them pressed open.
“Buck!” You exclaimed with a giggle.
“Love hearing you shout my name, baby,” Buck grinned, pulling you in for a long kiss before letting his kisses trail down your jaw.
“Buck,” You whined, gripping his shoulders tightly as he nipped at your neck.
Buck spared a grin at you, sinking down so he was at eye level with your panty-covered pussy. Clearly the excitement of breakfast sex had gone straight to your core if the wet patch at the center of your panties was to be believed.
“So pretty perched on the counter for me to devour, baby,” Buck cooed, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pretty panties. “Lift your ass for me, sweetheart.”
You bit your lip shyly as you followed his direction, lifting your hips up off the counter so Buck could slide your lace panties down your legs and deposit them onto the counter next to you. His lips found the soft skin of your inner thighs instantly, placing featherlight kisses along the inside of your thighs, savoring the soft breaths puffing out of you. Buck nudged your thighs open just a little wider, grinning when your hand wound into his hair to tug at the roots as Buck leaned in and licked a stripe up from your hole that was dripping with arousal to your clit.
“Oh!” You gasped, on hand twisting in Buck’s long covid hair, the other white knuckling the edge of the counter as Buck nibbled at your sensitive clit.
“Fucking delicious, angel,” Buck mumbled into your center.
Buck felt your ankles clasp behind his neck, keeping him locked against your cunt as he licked a pattern along your sensitive folds that he knew would make some of those melodic sounds of your pleasure drip from your lips. He also knew by the way you gripped his hair and bucked your hips against his mouth to grind your sensitive folds against his mouth that you were getting quite close to cumming on his tongue just from the movements of his mouth. When he slipped his middle two fingers into your well-lubricated hole, curling them slightly to brush across your g-spot on every thrust into you, you let out a sharp keen as your walls tightened around his thick fingers.
“Buck!” You shouted, cumming around his fingers, coating them in your juices. “Oh my god, baby, so fucking good.”
“Such a good girl,” Buck murmured, lapping up your cum. “Always so good for me.”
“Please,” You whimpered. “Buck, I need you.”
“What do you need, baby?” Buck asked, kissing your inner thigh sweetly. “I’ll give you anything you want.” He meant it too, and not just sexually. Anything you could ever want in your life Buck would provide for you.
“Want you to fuck me,” You panted, cupping his cheek. “Please, please, please.”
Hearing you beg for him made his already hard cock twitch in his boxers, he was desperate to sink into your wet heat. Standing from where he crouched on the floor in front of your pussy, Buck tugged you off the counter, turning you around to bend you over the counter. He wanted to see his last name on your back while he pounded into you. Pushing his boxers to the ground, Buck to his cock into his hand, rubbing it up and down your slit, circling your clit with it gently and grinning at your whines. When he finally lined himself up with your entrance, his hands tight on your hips, you wiggled your ass at him before he sunk his cock deep into your dripping cunt.
“Fuck,” He grunted over the sound of you moaning loudly.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen as Buck’s hips slammed into you with wanton abandon. Your walls enveloping him and dragging him back in to your wet heat with every pass made his heart beat erratically. Wrapping his hand in the hem his shirt on your back, he used the grip on the material to pull you back on his cock to meet every thrust of his cock into you.
“Buck,” You panted. “Oh my fucking god, so fucking good, Evan.”
“I love you, (y/n),” Buck groaned, every word being punctuated by a sharp thrust up into you.
“I love you too,” You breathed. “So much, I love you.”
“Are you close, sweetheart?”
“Mhm,” You whimpered.
Buck moved his hand to rub tight circles on your clit, hearing you let out little gasping screams as he did.
“Come for me, baby,” He commanded. “Want you to cum all over my cock.”
“Fuck!” You shouted, cumming at the combination of his words and the movements of his cock and fingers.
The feeling of your pussy clamping down around his dick made him let out his own gasp as his dick twitched inside you, releasing his spray of cum deep inside you. In his orgasmic bliss, Buck felt a stunning disappointment at the knowledge that you were on birth-control. As he filled you up with his cum, Buck imagined you full of his baby and the thought made his heart swell three sizes – he’d have to remember that thought and bring it up to you a little later.
“Buck,” You whispered, reaching your hand back to squeeze his forearm. Your movements spurred him into action, pulling out of your dripping pussy and standing you up from the counter to pull you into his arms and press a long kiss to your lips.
“I love you so much,” Buck murmured against your mouth. “You know that right?”
“I know that,” You smiled, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “I love you too, more than anything.”
Buck grinned into another kiss as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a big hug.
“Yes, sweet girl?”
“Do you ever think a-about the future?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.
“I mean, you said you love seeing your name on my back,” You said quietly. “What if it was my last name too?” Your question made his heartrate skyrocket. Of course he wanted to share a last name with you, he wanted to share everything with you.
“(Y/n) Buckley,” He grinned. “Sounds perfect, and you can keep that shirt. And all the little Buckleys we’re going to have will need their own LAFD shirts too.”
“Little Buckleys,” You whispered wistfully. “I’m throwing out my birth-control, I want those little Buckleys pronto.”
“Thank god,” Buck laughed, hiking you up to wrap your legs around his waist. “I guess we should start practicing making those little Buckleys, hm?”
As Buck carried you up the stairs towards the shower, it was safe to say that breakfast turned into more of a brunch. Or even lunch. Or was forgotten all together as you spent the day wrapped up in one another talking about your future and practicing making your beautiful little baby Buckleys.
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I had some time these last two days and so it was time for me to begin with the Buddie fic recs. This is the first one, more to come in the future (don't know when, honestly, I usually organize my fics folder when I have time/when I feel like doing it). Enjoy 💚
PS: I usually tag the authors, but sometimes I forget to do it, I'm sorry but I'm a bit chaotic.
Don’t Want no Other Shade of Blue But You [Words: 11050] by @fangkinkdiaz
This is an entire series, complete, and I suggest to read it all because it’s perfect.
“You can’t go see your son like this.”
That gives Buck pause. “He’s not—he’s not my son.”
“Isn’t he, though?” she says.
And part of Buck wants to argue, but a bigger part of him thinks, isn’t he, though? Not by blood, sure, or legally, but in all the ways that matter, Christopher is as good as his son.
Hungry For Your Love [Words: 1847] by @evcndiaz
I'm so in love with this one. It makes me laugh every single time I read it. Also the characters are so perfectly portraited it's like reading the script of an episode.
prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad?" or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning
Habits [Words: 4926]
I read this over and over again. I loved it so much it became a comfort fic for me.
Buck's not sure what's going on when Eddie starts kissing him on the head after a rough call, only now it's A Thing, and it's a thing Buck would very much like to continue if he knew what it meant.
(or another Buddie fic where everyone knows except Buck.)
Fire on Fire [Words: 6668]
Absolutely one of my favourites. It's very well written.
"You’re sleeping with him.”
“I’m not—” Eddie rolls his eyes and corrects himself halfway through. “I’m not sleeping with him like that, okay?”
Sophia looks at him for a long moment as her gaze turns from teasing to thoughtful.
“But you want to be. Right?”
[Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.]
To Build a Home we deconstruct our rituals [Words: 44248]
I really enjoyed this fic. More like a journey. I loved the way Eddie has been portraited.
After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak:
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I Want to Be Your Obsession
Whumptober 2021, Day 22: Obsession
Eddie thought nothing of it when a fruit basket arrived at the station for him.
Gifts were sent to firefighters all the time, as tokens of patients' gratitude. After the earthquake and the tsunami, they had been sent dozens upon dozens of baked goods. But of course, thanks to the whole dosed incident, they didn’t eat anything that wasn’t pre-sealed.
So, he thought nothing of the fruit basket. Until Hen discovered a card.
Continue reading on Ao3
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the new promo is making me Feel Things
The blaring sound of his phone ringing is what wakes Buck up. He feels around his bed for the device, it’s lost in the sheets from when he passed out a few hours earlier. When he finally grabs hold of it and manages to answer, it’s Bobby’s voice he hears.
“Buck, it’s Eddie, he’s collapsed and he’s been taken to hospital. You’re- you’re his emergency contact.”
Buck feels his blood run cold. Eddie is in hospital again, it’s only been five months since Buck watched him bleed out in the street. This can’t be happening.
“Buck..Buck, can you hear me?” oh, Bobby is still talking, but he hasn’t heard a word.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” he replies, “I’m on my way.”
Before he hangs up Bobby tells him to take an Uber, knowing he won’t be in the right state of mind to drive.
Buck remembers running through the halls of this hospital not too long ago, when Ana had called to say Eddie was awake. He can’t believe he’s running the same route again so soon.
He spots Bobby and comes to a sudden stop in front of him, “Bobby! How- is he, uh..”, he doesn’t want to finish that sentence, too afraid of the answer.
“He’s okay, Buck”, Bobby places a hand on his shoulder, “A panic attack.”
Bobby makes sure to look him in the eyes when he says “He’s really okay, Buck, see for yourself.” and then he’s being steered into a room.
Eddie looks small in the bed, but he’s alive, breathing and smiling.
Buck moves towards him, sits in the chair next to the bed. The desire to reach out and grab Eddie’s hand is strong but they’re not- he can’t.
“At least I wasn’t shot this time, right?”, it’s an obvious attempt to lighten the mood and it’s so Eddie.
It’s Eddie reaching out, then, wiggling his fingers over the edge of the bed until Buck grabs hold.
“I’m okay, Buck. We’re okay.”
Sitting in this chair, holding Eddie’s hand, Buck believes him.
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“Truth or dare,” Eddie asks.
Taylor takes another swig, the line of whiskey dropping once again, almost to a quarter full. “Dare.”
He thinks for a minute. “I dare you to hold a handstand for as long as you can.”
The chair clatters just a little as she stands. “Jokes on you, Diaz. I was on the all state gymnastics team all four years of high school.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t five shots deep for any of those meets.”
She dips her head in concession. As she’s tying back her hair and taking off her shoes, his phone pings with a text.
[from: Buck] the 133 finally got here, they should have the elevator open in 15
Eddie smiles, relieved. Buck’s been stuck for two hours now, and even though the elevator’s just down the hall from the loft, Eddie doesn’t like not being able to get to him, not being the one to get him out of this.
He takes another drink, hopes the burn stops the fluttering in his heart and his stomach.
[to: Buck] We’ll try and save some Jack for you, but no promises.
[from: Buck] hope you kids are getting along!!
If “getting along” means goading each other into more and more elaborate truths and dares as the alcohol has been flowing, then yeah, they’re getting along just fine.
“Buck should be free in 15 minutes,” he says, noting the way Taylor’s shoulders drop ever so slightly in her own relief.
“Great,” she says, raising her hands in the air. “Start the timer.”
To be fair, three minutes is pretty impressive.
She makes Eddie do his best “dad dance moves” in retaliation and films the whole thing.
“Truth or dare,” he pants as he sits back down, head resting in his folded hands. He’s only a little dizzy but, the soft light coming from every candle Buck owns makes everything blurred and easier to handle. He can just make out Taylor’s face as she contemplates a response.
“Truth,” she says firmly.
He means to think of a good question, a deep dive that may or may not get some embarrassing story out of her, crack the perfect facade that he’s only ever gotten to see that Buck swears is housing something more. Maybe about her first date, or her first kiss, something guaranteed to be awkward but still humanizing.
Instead, the whiskey asks, “Are you in love with Buck?”
She doesn’t flinch. He almost asks her again because he thinks maybe she didn’t hear him. But he sees her cock her head to the side and stare into the middle distance, thinking, so he waits. He closes his eyes, enjoying the almost total darkness, the unnatural quiet of the city just outside the window. If he could, he’d sink into it, away from the loft and from Taylor and whatever her answer is, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it, no matter what.
“Not yet,” she says finally, and Eddie’s stomach twists into a million different knots, just like he suspected it would. “But I think I could be, eventually.”
All he can do is nod and take another swig.
She stares at him, head still cocked as she asks, “Truth or dare.”
There’s a safe option, an option that doesn’t involve him baring any more of himself to basically a total stranger, but once again, the whiskey takes over. “Truth.”
She keeps looking, and he thinks he finally catches a glimmer of the girl inside the shell. Vulnerable, a little nervous. Trying to find her place.
She sits up straight, and the shutters close back up. “Are you in love with Buck?”
There’s no escape, really. He could laugh it off, deny it until he was blue in the face, but they’d both know it was just for show. And as much as he may not like Taylor, he does respect her, too much to lie to her.
He doesn’t want to lie to himself anymore, either.
He looks her dead in the eye and takes yet another swig.
Judging by the way she stares back, he thinks she gets it.
Before anything else can happen, the front door jiggles and flies open, Buck striding in with a big grin on his face like he wasn’t just trapped in a metal box for a majority of the evening.
“Sweet freedom!” he says, plopping into the chair between Taylor and Eddie. “Can’t wait to tell Chris about that one, he’ll get a kick out of Mrs. Hace making sure all three dogs got out safely before her husband.” He lights up when he sees there’s still booze left and takes a long pull, eyes flitting from left to right. “Did I miss anything here? How’s your evening been?”
Taylor’s still looking at him, but the sharpness has softened again into a small, resigned smile.
“Enlightening,” she says.
Eddie drinks again.
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honestly... why are you saying such things?
buck, helping eddie, to dress up? helping him wear that henley and touching his skin?
tyimg his shoes being on his knees and looking at eddie under lashes?
pls dont get me started at buttoning jeans
because i can
you against me
eddie/buck, 4x14 feels
Eddie's ready to leave.
The pain meds have finally kicked in, and his wound is comfortably numb. He's tired of the hospital gown, of lying in a bed when he just wants to be home, with Chris, surrounded by the familiar. He's doing a terrible job of ignoring the trickle down his spine that indicates danger--awareness of danger--and focuses on Buck as he comes through the door with a bag.
"Got the stuff you asked for," he says.
"Thanks," Eddie says quietly. He stares down at the gown, then at his arm. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but the shame curls low in his belly. He can't ask. He'll manage. He always does.
Buck hovers, uncertain, and plays with the edge of the bag. "Do you want me to-?"
"Yeah." The reply is quick. It's safe, easier when it's Buck offering and not Eddie asking. "If you don't mind."
"Never," Buck says. The word is weighted and Eddie stares at the side of Buck's face as he pulls clothing out of the bag. Eddie's favourite Henley, some pants, the comfortable sneakers Eddie likes. "Alright, let's do this. They give you pain meds?"
Eddie assures him they have, and then Buck's stepping closer, into Eddie's space. There's a sling on the bed, left there for Eddie to put on once he's dressed, and he's not looking forward to it. "This is gonna suck."
Making a face, Buck nods. His hands are warm when he touches Eddie's arm, helps to pull the gown over Eddie's left side. "I'm sorry in advance."
It hurts; Edde tries not to make noise, but he can't help the soft grunt of pain when Buck slides the gown over his shoulder, moves his arm a little. It sends a bolt of pain lancing through him and Eddie sucks in a breath.
"Sorry," Buck says again, fingers light against Eddie's wrist, soothing motions against his skin.
"S'okay," Eddie mutters, even though it's not.
Thankfully, Buck decides to focus on the pants next, and that's easier. Yeah. Easier. The sight of Buck crouching in front of him, tugging the pants up Eddie's legs. He's gentle, cradling Eddie's legs as if they're injured, and helping Eddie stand so that he can pull them the rest of the way.
"Um," Buck starts, and then smirks. "Never thought i'd be buttoning you into pants."
Eddie snorts, latches onto the humour because it helps defuse some of the tension. "Oh? Want to take me out of them?"
Buck opens his mouth, closes it. He doesn't answer.
"Buck," Eddie breathes.
"Ana," Buck says quickly, turning his face away.
"Is not here," Eddie says pointedly, because he needs Buck to know. "You're here. For me."
Buck nods jerkily, but he does button up Eddie's jeans. Again, he says nothing, and Eddie feels desperate. He uses his good hand to hold Buck's wrist.
"Buck," he says. "Thank you."
This time, Buck lets his gaze linger. "Of course. Anything."
Eddie knows he means it; there's precious little Buck will refuse him. In fact, Eddie's not sure he can think of something that Buck will say no to, even if it means Buck hurts because of it. The trust and power Eddie holds over Buck is frightening. Eddie's not sure he deserves it, or that Buck will always be that way if he ever discovers the darkness Eddie tries so desperately to hide.
"Where'd you go?" Buck asks, a hand on Eddie's neck.
"Just thinking," Eddie says. He shivers a little.
Buck gently pulls his arm from Eddie's grasp and holds up the Henley. "This is definitely gonna hurt."
It does. Eddie checks out a little, clenching his eyes shut and letting Buck move his arm as gently as he can. He tries, but the pain is a lot and Eddie chokes back a pained gasp.
"I know," Buck says gently, the entire time. "Almost done, I'm sorry."
When Buck's finally done with the shirt, and with settling the sling correctly so that Eddie doesn't hurt much beyond the norm, he squeezes Eddie's neck gently.
"Fuck," Eddie says emphatically, and drops his head to Buck's shoulder. Buck's fingers smooth down the hairs at the nape of his neck, and they stand like that for a moment, silent. Eddie likes it, the comfort, the peace. "Thanks."
"Stop saying thanks."
"If you stop saying sorry," Eddie shoots back.
Buck's smile is wry. "Alright. You want shoes?"
"Yeah," Eddie says, and clambers awkwardly back onto the bed.
Undeserving; that's how Eddie feels when Buck's careful with his ankles, his feet, as he puts on the sneakers. He ties the shoes, glancing up at Eddie every so often. Eddie's heart hurts; how can it be possible to know and love someone like Buck without it overwhelming him? Eddie's certain of those facts. Whether he's with Ana or not, Buck is his best friend, his soulmate in every way, and he knows that disentangling himself from Buck at this point is impossible.
Buck loves Eddie unconditionally. He loves Chris unconditionally, and if there was anything that Eddie's weak to, it's someone loving Chris almost as much as he does.
"There," Buck says, fingers sliding up Eddie's left leg. "Ready to go. Want me to see whether you can leave?"
Eddie nods, but catches Buck's hand, tugs him closer. "Thanks."
"Eddie," Buck starts.
"I mean for being there," Eddie says, talking to Buck's knee. "The shooting and here, coming when Ana called. Staying with Chris. Just... everything."
"You don't have to thank me." Buck's words are quiet, and the looks he's giving Eddie is intense, captivating. "I'd do anything."
Eddie lets out a slow breath. "I know."
Buck's expression is soft, understanding.
"I love you," Eddie says, because it needs to be said.
"Love you too," Buck says, squeezing Eddie's hand. "Let's get you some pain meds and get you home."
Eddie opens his mouth to say something else, but Buck's already gone. It should feel cold in his absence, but Eddie knows he'll back, that he'll fill any room he walks into, and Eddie will always, always find him. It's time, he thinks, that Buck knows just how much Eddie loves him.
Time that Buck knows how expendable he isn't.
He's integral, important, everything.
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Dispatcher Diaz my beloved!
Based on @hmslusitania ‘s amazing fic Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right into Your Love)
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Pairing: Evan Buckley x Reader
Summary: Your husband stops by, but not for the visit you’re expecting…
Note: A request from my dear bitch @halsmultibitch ❤️ hope you like this bby🥰
Warnings🛑: mentions of blood, hospital setting, medical care
You never know what to expect when working as a trauma nurse…
Every night the 118 team is bringing in a victim with something obscure or downright odd hanging out of some body part. This was how you met your husband, and father to your unborn baby still growing in your tummy, Buck.
The two of you absolutely adored the other, you helped him when he was in a dark place, and it made him fall even more in love with you. Despite not being home a lot since both of your jobs have heavy work hours, one of you is always showing up at the others place of work.
Tonight, it was Buck’s turn, but this visit was unusual when you didn’t see him getting out of the firetruck.
He was on the gurney, your eyes widened as you rushed over to where Chim and Hen were pushing him in.
“Evan?!” you gasped, taking in his battered form.
“Hey baby! How’s my little one?” he coughed, trying to pretend of course that nothing was wrong.
“What the hell happened?!” you demanded.
“This idiot about got himself killed.” Hen chimed in.
“Did not,” Buck grumbled.
“Buck, honey lie down please.” you said as you began the standard testing once he was in a trauma bay.
“Babe I’m fine, really!” he insisted.
“If you don’t lay down Evan Buckley, I’ll strap you down myself.” you growled, and Buck cowered.
“Y-Yes ma’am.” Buck muttered, unable to deny that was insanely hot the way you yelled at him.
“Now tell me what happened.” you prompted as you got some fluids running.
“I may or may not have went back into a burning building…” he murmured, your movements stopping.
“Evan, wha-what the hell?! Why-you-you did this knowing you have a wife and a child coming?!” you almost screamed.
“Baby, sweetheart it’s ok…I had to. It-There was a kid still in there and I-I don’t know I just had to go get them. I thought about if it was us and something happened and I would do everything possible to protect them.” he explained.
“Oh Buck, see…this is one of the many, many reasons I love you.” you whispered, kissing his lips gently before you got back to work.
Luckily, Buck was able to come home that night, and the two of you did a lot more of yelling and screaming in a good way…
@mrspeacem1nusone @illinterrogatethecat00 @kaitieskidmore1 @simpingbutch @mxltifandoms06 @beth-winchester21 @miraclesoflove @ashtynthebadass @skyesthebomb @mess-in-side @sea040561 @hollandxvoid @toni9 @kalamitykait @holding-on-to-starwars @mochionly @the-sky-writes @nope-thanks @midnightzonzz @halsmultibitch @jeyramarie
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