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#911 fics
goblinessence · 9 days ago
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:
Marry Buck.
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werewolfdiaz · 3 months ago
where the wildflowers grow - 11k buck/eddie, post s4, first dates, exchanging flowers _____
When Eddie’s abuelo passed, his abuela turned her grief into a garden of marigolds and poppies and told him that flowers tell a story, written in their own unique language. A single flower carries a garden of weight, and she warned him not to confuse chrysanthemums with carnations.
(I love you; I disdain you with all my heart).
She taught him the ones she knew, and he took it upon himself to learn the rest. Quickly, he learned, it is a language of both love and hate. Harebells of grief and black dahlias of betrayal, snapdragons for deception and hemlock for death. Yes, roses are full of love, but a bouquet of the wrong hue is laced with jealousy and “I’d rather stay friends”.
(Or; Buck is determined to woo Eddie, and Eddie finally finds a use for his fluency in flower language).
read on ao3
tags below the cut
@lesbiandiaz @homobuck @trashbaget
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futures-tense · 3 months ago
you know i really kind of want more eddie and athena content like them making jokes and stuff and Athena absolutely seeing right through his lovesickness just more eddie and athena friendship
Okay I know you didnt ask for it but I actually had this sitting in my wips but it was too short to do anything with SO (and before anyone asks yes it was loosely based on something one of Angela’s other characters said)
i searched for you in someone else and found nothing// ~750 //
“Out of curiosity, why did Christopher come with Buck and not you?” She doesn’t actually look up at him, just checks the bread in the oven.
Eddie glances at her. “Buck offered to pick him up from school.” He hesitates slightly, the knife in his hands stopping just over the pepper on the cutting board. “I don’t know if Bobby told you but the last call we went on… I don’t know, it kind of messed me up.”
Athena nods sympathetically. “I get it. Are you okay now?”
He thinks for a moment, then continues what he’d been doing. “Yeah, I think so. Or I will be. Buck offered to get Chris so I could have a little while to myself.”
“And where’s Ana tonight?” She side eyes him and he freezes again.
“Why do I feel like you already know the answer to that?” He says, pointedly ignoring her gaze as he empties the contents of the cutting board into the salad bowl.
“I heard this story about a fish,” Athena starts, casually filling the bowl with the rolls she’d pulled out. Eddie furrows his brows and leans back against the counter. “It went up to an older fish and said ‘I’m looking for the ocean.’ The older fish looked at him and said ‘the ocean? That’s what we’re in now.’ And the younger fish shook his head and said ‘no, this is water. I want the ocean’.”
She gives him a knowing look and picks up the bowl, heading around the counter to the table.
“Alright, y’all. Come eat!”
Eddie doesn’t move, still trying to figure out the point of the story.
“Eds,” Buck calls, one hand on the back of Christopher’s chair and the other on the empy seat next to the kid. “You good?”
He nods and joins them at the table, taking the seat next to Buck. The blond leans close- brushing their shoulders together and Eddie leans in closer.
Because Buck’s about to say something.
“You didn’t get water.”
Eddie makes a face. “What?”
“That’s why you went to the kitchen, right? To get a drink?”
“Yeah, yeah, I just… Athena needed some help and I forgot.”
“Naturally,” Buck says with a playful shake of his head before getting up.
Eddie rolls his eyes and tunes into the story Christopher is telling Bobby and Michael. Buck comes back a moment later and places a glass of water in front of him and chooses to engage in a conversation with May about her job at the call center.
Eddie opens his mouth to say something but stops. He sees Athena raise an eyebrow at him.
“Buck, what about you and Ms. Kelly?” Bobby asks when the conversation slows.
Buck raises an eyebrow at him and swallows the food he’d been chewing. “What about us, Cap?”
“You two were going steady for a while, weren’t you?”
That makes Buck laugh a little. “No, we weren’t. We’re just friends.”
Eddie tries hard not to roll his eyes and he looks at Athena, who give him an innocent shrug. What is she playing at?
Bobby looks as unconvinced of Buck’s statement as Eddie does but Buck just shakes his head.
“Seriously,” he insists. “It’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Uh, someone outside of work, anyway.”
Eddie can tell Buck’s trying not to look at him.
Oh. Oh, that’s what she meant.
The conversation moves away from Buck’s love life and on to Harry’s latest video game. Dinner lasts a while longer and eventually they move back into the living room.
Eddie leans toward Athena. “What was all that about?” She gives him a confused look. “Bobby asking about Taylor, it just seemed very…strategic.”
“You’re looking for the ocean when you’ve already got it,” she says quietly, gesturing vaguely toward Buck and Christopher- who are playing a board game with Harry and May.
“I don’t-“ He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t have him, Thena, that’s the problem.”
She turns to him and smiles fondly. “All you have to do is talk to him. I have a feeling it’ll go your way.”
“Hey, Athena,” Bobby interrupts. “Sorry, but can I get your help outside?”
“Of course,” she says, getting to her feet.
“Wait,” Eddie says. “Do you know something I don’t?”
She smirks at him and shoots a not-so-innocent smile in his direction- one that makes hope spark in him like a match.
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indigo2831 · a month ago
"Hey Buck, you doing okay? It sounds like you're hacking up a lung and we both know that you and your lungs have a fraught history."
"Eddie, I'm cough fine, Hen checked me out cough and said I might be coughing for a cough bit but I'll be fine."
Buck knows he's lying to his best friend (or BF???), he's accutely aware of it. It's not so surpising when his vision blurs out and suddenly the world turns horizontal.
(idk if you're on team Buddie or not, but do whatever makes you happy!)
Sorry this took so long! I hope you like it.
"Hey Buck, you doing okay? It sounds like you're hacking up a lung and we both know that you and your lungs have a fraught history."
"Eddie, I'm *cough* fine, Hen checked me out *cough* and said I might be coughing for a *cough* bit but I'll be fine."
Buck knows he's lying to his best friend, he's acutely aware of it. It's not so surprising when his vision blurs out and suddenly the world turns horizontal.
His iPhone hits the pavement with an alarming crunch and slide, but he doesn’t have the capacity to worry about the cost of a new screen when he’s got a white-knuckled grip on consciousness. He presses the oxygen mask he’d whipped off to answer Eddie’s call to his face, desperate for air. Eddie is still homebound, sling-bound and swooningly weak from walking from his bed to the couch, which is why Buck wanted to keep him as stress-free as possible.
So he’ll save him the harrowing story about how Buck, his tank depleted of oxygen, ignored Cap’s order to evacuate a fire-engulfed house in order to rescue a child who had barricaded himself in a backroom to escape the fire that erupted out of vents and liquified toys.
Smoke inhalation is a beast of an occupational hazard, and it burrows deep, growling from the depths of his scorched lungs. They don’t take his phone, so he’s able to continue texting—and yes, lying—to Eddie so he doesn’t worry while he’s recuperating at home. Things get too bright and too hazy and too painful, and he goes silent for a while, his chest is rib-snappingly tight and his throat still aflame. He awakens to an oxygen mask and feeling a few levels below miserable that he aches for home so much that his gritty eyes water with it.
Instead, he finds home has come to him: Eddie sits slinged and straight-backed in the chair beside his bed. He arches an eyebrow at Buck’s awakening and holds up his phone to reveal a string of nonsensical texts. “Maybe don’t try to lie to me when you’re hypoxic, Evan.”
Buck cracks a smile behind the mask, squeezes his hand, and slips back to sleep, comforted.
Send me one sentence of a fic, and I'll write at least five more!
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hermiione · 3 months ago
my love will laugh with me (until the morning comes)
(the title is from “paint it black” which the clip ― you know which clip I'm talking about ― played briefly)
“We’re firefighters, Buck, I am not having our colleagues come into my house to put out the fire.”
“But -“
“No,” Eddie says pointedly. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Counterpoint,” Buck grins at him unrepentantly. “Candles.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Chris chimes in. “Candles!”
Eddie resists the urge to facepalm. The whole of LA has been submerged into a blackout with no news on how long it will last and they’re still in hour one. Thank God Buck was already hanging out with them. Eddie hates to think of Buck all alone in his apartment in the dark. Not that Eddie wouldn’t have called him to come over anyway. The point is, this saved him having to ask.
Which is how he gets to be ganged up on by his son and his ― his Buck.
Chris would probably be thrilled to know that his father is borrowing his words to describe his best friend. Because, let’s face it, there was no other way to describe Buck.
Eddie’s probably been silent for too long because when his eyes snap back to focus, there are at least three more candles added to the one already lit on the coffee table.
“Alright,” Eddie compromises with only slight reluctance, knowing how to give up when he’s already lost the fight, “Only four.”
Buck lets out a cheer at that which Chris is quick to follow ― and Eddie’s heart does a complicated thing. It’s not unfamiliar, but it’s gone unacknowledged for so long ― years, really ― that he’s still trying to stop himself from letting the words spill out. Ana is history, and Taylor is soon to be even if Buck himself won’t let himself say it. Eddie and Buck ― what they have is worth taking the time.
“Okay, now,” Buck winks at Chris conspiratorially, the candlelight illuminating his face in a golden glow and making his eyes shine. “Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”
“I love when we played Scrabble,” Chris tells them hopefully. “Do you know any other cool games?
“Alright, kid,” Buck says, smiling down at him, “I know this cool game called Monopoly ―“
Eddie can barely contain his own smile, feeling like his heart is doing the samba with the way it’s beating within its cage.
“― And I know all the tricks,” Buck continues shamelessly, grinning at Eddie again.
And Eddie cannot let that stand in good conscience So he warns him playfully, “Let’s not teach him to hustle.”.
Buck just laughs, reaching out his hand to ruffle Chris’s hair affectionately. “Alright, kid, let’s go show your dad how it’s done.”
Eddie was right. This thing that they have between them ― it’s worth everything in the world.
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maddiebuckettebuckley · 8 months ago
love him anyway | ao3 link
summary: basically I watched 4x04 and I couldn’t fall asleep until someone hugged evan buckley and it had to be Bobby
Buck shifted his car into park and looked out the window. How did he even end up at Bobby and Athena’s house? He didn’t remember making the decision to drive here. He remembered anger boiling in his chest until he couldn’t breathe and he remembered yelling just to relieve the pressure and the look on his parents’ faces when he asked them to just love him and they didn’t say a goddamn word. Just stared at him like he was a wild animal. 
He remembered pounding his fists against the steering wheel and screaming until his voice gave out. Or at least the bruises on his hands and the soreness in his throat remembered. Then nothing. Only a blustering storm of sharp, cold memories battering the inside of his head.
And now he was here. Too exhausted to be angry, feeling hollowed out and raw and so, so young. And he must have been driving around for hours because it was far too late for company. And he knew he shouldn’t knock on the door, shouldn’t disturb their evening. They were probably already in bed. 
But he couldn’t go back to his apartment alone, feeling like this. When he might do something stupid and prove his parents right. 
He turned off the ignition.
Walking up to the house, everything seemed like a dream. Edges were hazy, some things too bright, other things too dull. A persistent ringing filled his ears but somehow it felt like it belonged there. 
Buck’s knuckles were an inch from the door, about to knock against the wood when he stopped cold. His hand dropped limply to his side. What was he doing here? With all of the mistakes he’d made, all of the damage he’d done, even his own parents couldn’t love him. And he expected Bobby and Athena to —  what? Love him anyway? That wasn’t their job. He took a shaky breath that scraped against his lungs and took a step back from the door to leave. 
Then the porch light clicked on, flooding the area around him in a gentle yellow glow, and he heard the snap of a deadbolt coming from inside. The door opened, revealing Bobby’s frame in the doorway, with Athena hovering just behind him. Both of them wearing pajamas and slippers and looking every bit like he had just woken them up. 
“Buck?” Bobby said, his brows furrowed in concern. “What are you doing here so late? Are you okay?”
“I…” Buck’s mouth was full of cotton. He felt so young. “I’m sorry, I should go.” He took another step back.
“Hold on.” Bobby stepped onto the porch and Athena took his place in the doorway, his hands held up in a placating gesture. “What’s wrong, Buck?” 
Just hearing his name after an endless night of jagged “Evan”s — from his parents at dinner, from Maddie and Chimney, from an endless stream of figures in his memories — was cold water on an open wound. He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. 
“I just…” How could he explain to Bobby that he wasn’t even Buck right now? He was Evan. He was twelve years old sitting alone at dinner with his parents, hating them for not letting him see his sister, hating them for only ever seeing him when he was disappointing them, hating them for being there and hating them for not being there. Hating himself for not being enough.
Twelve year old Evan Buckley really, really needed a hug. 
Before he could second-guess himself, he closed the distance between him and Bobby in one stride and Bobby must have been able to see twelve year old Evan Buckley after all because his arms were already open when Buck reached him. Buck threw his arms around Bobby’s neck and buried his face into the worn T-shirt on his shoulder. Bobby’s arms were strong and steady against his back and he was just so goddamn young. Something snapped inside of him and every moment of the evening came rushing back all at once, a deluge of hurt that would have knocked him over if it weren’t for Bobby. Gasping sobs broke from his chest, shaking his entire body.
Bobby rubbed his back and whispered “Shhhh… shhhh…” like he was a little kid because in that moment he was and he couldn’t have been more grateful to Bobby for seeing that. 
“I’m so sorry,” He choked out in between sobs, “I’m so sorry.” He said it over and over.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Buck.” Bobby said, his voice nothing more than vibrations in Buck’s aching chest. “Nothing at all.” 
And Buck almost believed him.
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911fic-library · 15 days ago
Hi!! I’m looking for a crossover fic where Buck panics and drives to Texas after a long shift and Eddie follows him?? it’s definitely pre buddie if that helps???
Oh there’s one I love: what happens in texas by carefulren
“And you think maybe you’re just really great friends with this guy, but then you start to think about how you can’t imagine what your life was really like before him, and you really don’t want to imagine what your life would be like without him.”
“Holy shit,” Buck breathes, nodding still. “Yeah, all of that. How’d you…”
“Have you considered that you may be bisexual, Buck?”
Buck turns back to TK, frowning. “No? I mean, maybe?” He groans and leans forward to set his coffee mug down before he throws himself back against the couch, running his hands down his face. “I guess I haven’t really tried to label it? It’s not something I really thought about before—”
(Buck's struggling with his feelings, so he does the only logical thing to do: he drives 20 hours to Texas after a 24-hour shift by himself to seek out help from some new friends.)
Let us know if this is it!
~ Mod Nat
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babyboy-buck · 17 days ago
me attempting to manifest ppl writing spooky supernatural and/or horror 911 fics:
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911x911lonestarsmutweek · 7 months ago
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Hello everyone, welcome to your week of smut writing: July 12-18, 2021. We hope you have fun and have fun reading. Your prompts for each day are as follows. Feel free to skip a day of you don’t want to and also feel free to be as creative as you like. There is a golden rule of no incest, pedophilia, or using any children in the shows. If you do have special kinks or things you want to use in your stories please just give the proper warning. As long as you make aware of what you are writing, we are fine with that!!
Day One: A scene from the show that you think should have added a sex scene before cutting, or a gap filler to what you think should have been there. You can also write to one of the scenes that did happen using your own visual...
Day Two: Handcuffs, sex toys, anything you want to incorporate into a pwp and/or have a plot too. ;)
Day Three: “I don’t know if you’re into that but...”
Day Four: Food of choice, chocolate, whip cream, ice cream, etc, anything your heart desires.
Day Five: Sex in a public place. (writer’s choice if they want them to get caught!)
Day Six: The most randomest place to have sex, ie: on the fire truck, in the police car, or the most random place you want. / + a little humor if you want to add, “I can’t believe we just did that...”
Day Seven: Writer’s Choice! Do what you will within reason, we trust you.
thanks for reading! we hope y’all will participate! this is my first time wanting to do something like this so i’m really hoping it’ll be a success. i can’t wait to see what everyone writes! if you have any questions, please direct message this blog.
Please either tag us in your posts or use the tag #911smutweek
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pumpkinspicediaz · a month ago
Reviewing 'No Beta We Die Like...' tags from 9-1-1 fics
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8/10 tho it really is dead. Also creativity.
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110/10 was he ever heterosexual?
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10/10 I feel bad for laughing abdfjfhdlsb
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7/10 Is this [redacted]? [redacted]. [redacted]!!
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9/10 harsh. I love it.
??/10 😭😭😭
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4/10 P l e a s e, a quick bad written death? You guys can do better.
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100/10 the guy deserved it.
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10/10 damn dead then
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200/10 [wheeze]
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zeethebooknerd · 9 months ago
of routines and embraces
For my love, @tylerhunklin for her birthday just ignore i’m two hours late.
[AO3 Link]
Word Count: 6554 words
It’s a quiet night, one of the rare ones where even the constant hum of the city seems silent, when they take one more step.
There’s a lot of steps to take, Eddie thinks. A lot of things to work through, a lot of landmarks to hit before he feels even remotely ready to give up the last bit of his heart. Other than that, it’s belonged to Buck for a long time, in what Eddie now knows he was blind to.
Buck, who’s sitting on his porch with two beers, waiting for him.
Eddie thinks they might've been waiting for each other for a long time.
“He wiggled another story out of me,” Eddie says as he joins Buck on the back porch, folding his legs underneath himself and taking the proffered bottle.
“It’s your fault for falling for it all the time,” Buck teases, laughing. The sound brightens up the darkness that’s fallen over the house, but Eddie plays off the warmth in his chest by rolling his eyes.
Instead, he offers his friends a story from their life in El Paso, one tidbit in a whole lifetime of ups and downs. “When we were back in El Paso, bedtime was pretty much the only part of the day that I could constantly be there for. One of the jobs I was working ended around 6:30, and I used to have a job that had a night shift after he slept, so I’d go home to eat dinner and spend the evening with him. It was the only thing I could be there for, without fail.”
Buck clearly doesn’t miss his word choice. “I wouldn’t say it’s the only thing at all. I may not have known you back then, but I know you now, and it’s pretty safe to assume that you don’t give yourself enough credit. Even if you’ve gotten better at it.”
Eddie doesn’t think even his parents knew him back then, but he doesn’t comment on the astute observation. He’s self-aware enough to recognize he has gotten better at it over the years, especially as Christopher’s grown up. But back then, when he was still falling short despite putting in more than he had to give, it was a struggle to believe he could ever be enough for anyone. 
Sometimes, it still is.
Instead of saying any of that, he stays quiet, taking a sip of his beer, turning his thoughts towards the boy sleeping soundly inside.
Christopher had very quickly grown out of picture books once they started the regular nightly reading routine. He’d tuck himself up under Eddie’s chin and follow along, sometimes falling asleep before they even got halfway, other times stubbornly picking up a second. 
The day Chris had brought home one of those Step Into Reading books with a blazing 2 in the corner instead of a 1, Eddie’s mind had raced so far ahead, already panicking at the thought of him growing up. Adriana had been the one to tell him to relax, giving him some of the books his niece had grown out of just a couple of years before. Some of those were still sitting in Christopher’s room.
That first book had been about penguins. Eddie remembers that.
Ultimately, he’d wrestled his irrationality under control. They’d curled up together and Eddie had listened as Christopher sounded out the harder words, nailing it seven out of ten times.
“Did you know we need about eight hugs a day?” Buck blurts out, randomly. 
Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up as the fact registers, still confused as to why Buck’s saying that to him. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “You know, for maintenance. We need four to survive, eight for maintenance and twelve to grow. We just don’t do it.”
Eddie watches him quietly, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. He’s lounging with a faint smile on his face, completely relaxed. Eddie thinks he senses a little amusement too, the way Buck gets when he catches any of them off-guard — which happens more often than not. 
Then he catches sight of his best friend’s open expression, complete with the tiny hint of invite that always hangs between them. The one that dares the other to shove them into a place they can’t come back from. 
And Eddie just wants . 
Without thinking too much about it, he moves closer to Buck and wraps his arms around him.
Surprisingly, Buck jolts from the uncharacteristic action — which in itself is strange, given that he’s the one who brought it up in the first place. Regardless, his arms wrap around Eddie not even two seconds later and Eddie...Eddie sinks into it.
It’s a little awkward, both of them sitting weirdly for this kind of hug, but Buck hugs with his whole body and even in this limiting position, Eddie feels completely wrapped up. Any pulled muscles are completely worth this one embrace, because his mind is finally silent.
It becomes evident very quickly that Buck, for as tactile as he is, clearly isn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon — or maybe that’s just Eddie projecting. Then Buck’s arms move to hook behind Eddie’s torso, and he drops all thoughts of projecting, moving that last inch until their thighs are flush against one another, fitting them closer together.
It’s familiar to have the weight of one of Buck’s hands in the middle of his back and one draped across his shoulder, dragging them together. 
Eddie can’t help but notice how well they just fit.
When they do let go, leaving nothing but cool air between them, Eddie can’t resist but comment. “So that’s one of eight. Don’t let me down, Buckley,” he winks, immediately feeling stupid for it. He’s out of practice with everything, but the flush dusting across Buck’s face makes him feel a little better. 
“Holding you to that, Eddie,” he laughs, tapping his beer bottle against Eddie’s as they turn their attention back to the night.
After that, it becomes a thing.
Buck didn’t know there were so many types of hugs, but now he’s catalogued a whole list of them in his mind.
They’re mostly specific to Eddie.
He hadn’t meant to blurt out that specific fact the first night. He’d just seen the faraway look in Eddie’s eyes and said the first thing that came to mind. For the confused, intrigued look on his best friend’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, because Eddie wasn’t thinking about the past anymore, and that’d been the whole intention.
Then Eddie had hugged him, and Buck really couldn’t regret it. Not when Eddie was determined to make a habit of it — a habit that Buck had been too terrified to initiate.
Most of the embraces they’ve shared have been brief, littered across each other’s skin in bright flashes that Buck can see on his skin even after his friend leaves. And when they pull away, Buck can see Eddie tally each one in his mind the way he himself does, with the same iota of disbelief.
Buck still hasn’t brought himself to believe this is really happening. 
Expecting eight hugs a day out of literally anyone sounded ridiculous to him the first time he’d heard it, and it sounds just as ridiculous now. Regardless, his touch starvation is the highest it’s been in years, so Buck will take what he can get. 
It’s their thirteenth hug that proves to be the most addictive one, the one that sends Buck tumbling down a line of ‘I can’t live without this anymore.’
They’re coming back from what was meant to be a routine call, but turned ugly quicker than they could blink. 
One more patient lost to the clutches of death.
The mood in the truck, as it always is after a tough call, is somber. Buck and Eddie are the only firefighters in the cab of the truck. Bobby’s sitting in the front seat, Wes is driving and Hen and Chim are in the ambulance.
And Eddie’s watching him.
Buck has never learned how to move past death in his life. No matter how many times he’s tried to get to a place where he can move on and do the next task he’s assigned, he’s never quite been able to manage it without some degree of distraction.
It’s always sitting in the back of his mind. He’s constantly running over all the things he knows about the patient they lost, committing it to memory. He’s constantly mourning the people they lose in his head, categorizing all the things they could’ve done differently.
The mental list that started with Devon has only gotten longer over the years, and as much as Buck loves his job, he loathes this part of it.
Eddie hooks his foot behind Buck’s, his gaze shifting away from Buck’s skin with the point of contact. It’s bulky and awkward for the heft of their shoes, but it takes Buck out of his mind for a second as he pushes his ankle back into Eddie’s warmth. 
No one says anything when they pull into the station, only Bobby halfheartedly asking them to get some rest while he starts on lunch. Absently, Buck thinks that lunch is probably going to be a full spread, knowing Bobby’s propensity to cook too much when he’s in a mood like this. 
He’s hardly been on the clock for three hours, with nine more to go. Buck doesn’t know how much help he’ll be like this but he puts it to the back of his mind as he hangs up his turnout coat.
Eddie touches his arm from the locker next to him, beckoning him to follow with a tilt of his head. Buck follows him mutely, trying to shake the slight tremble from his fingers. The shock of losing someone is beginning to wear off, and he can feel his chest start to cave in from the thought of a family having an empty chair at their table tonight. 
Eddie leads them into one of the private bunks, blissfully empty. Given that it’s not even noon, it makes sense. Buck looks curiously at his friend as Eddie locks the door, turning to face him.
“Are you okay?”
Buck always wondered why those three words could push buttons, without fail, every time — including right now. Unbidden, he can feel hot pressure prick at his eyes, and he looks away to stop his friend from seeing him like that.
Clearing his throat, he gives Eddie whatever random answer he first thinks of. “Yeah.” He winces immediately at the sound of his voice, meeting Eddie’s disapproving gaze.
“Well,” Eddie starts slowly, reaching for him with a look Buck’s ever really seen around Christopher, “come here then.”
Eddie hugs him tightly.
Buck lets himself fall into his partner, wrapping his arms just as tight around Eddie’s broad shoulders. His tears stubbornly won’t fall, leaving an uncomfortable ache around his head but at least his chest feels less like it’s going to cave in at any moment.  
Eddie says nothing, lets the two of them stand there quietly, sharing too much space for being at work. One hand idly presses firmly against his side periodically, stopping Buck from getting stuck in a whirlpool of his own thoughts. 
He sucks in a shuddering breath, tilting his face downwards until his mouth is pressed against Eddie’s shoulder. At the back of his mind, he registers that this is probably too close, and that he needs to back away but Eddie shifts his grip until he’s somehow hugging him tighter and that’s what does it.
He breaks.
This time, the tears do come, slowly dampening Eddie’s shirt and leaving a swirl of embarrassment in their wake. He knows the man won’t belittle him for needing to cry, for being so emotional, but a part of him is always scared of taking too much.
“I’ve got you,” Eddie whispers, one hand sliding up his back to press against the back of his neck, keeping Buck where he is. The unbarred affection only makes him cry more, muffling gasps and shudders into Eddie's shift. There’s a sense of not deserving this that comes over him at times like these, where the whole world feels unfair and there’s nothing Buck can do to stop it.
“The uniform is my costume,” he says after he manages to get himself under control. They still haven’t moved, but Buck begins talking, spurred on by having Eddie so close without having to look him in the eye. “I told Bobby that once, the Halloween after the lawsuit. Told him that I put this on, and I’m someone who makes a difference, who can help. And then things like today happen and I just...feel like I’ve failed it. Like I’m not worthy of wearing it anymore.”
Eddie doesn’t let him get away with no eye contact this time. Buck only barely manages to stop himself from whining when Eddie pulls away, but forces himself to listen. His hand still rests on his shoulder, keeping that point of contact between them, and there are too little inches between them, leaving Buck feeling exposed and vulnerable.
“You know, that’s the thing about uniforms. Everyone can wear a uniform. But not everyone can carry what they mean, you understand?” Eddie would know — he’s worn two uniforms that’ve meant vastly different things, so if anyone understood the weight of flimsy cloth, it is him. “There’s a reason that not everyone can work jobs like these. If you weren’t worthy of the uniform, you wouldn’t be standing here. You’re here because you understand what it means to be a firefighter, to work emergency services knowing that sometimes, we’re going to face the uglier parts, like death.”
“What’s the point if we can’t save people? How do you get past it?” The questions fall from his lips before he can stop them.
There’s no pity in Eddie’s gaze, which relieves Buck in multitudes he can’t put in words. “Honestly, sometimes, there is no getting past it. You have to recognize that you did the best you could with the situation you were placed in, and then move forward. I know it doesn’t help because it sounds like a textbook definition, but when it comes down to it, that’s all that’s left. Nothing we say or do is going to bring anyone back.”
Buck knows he’s right. 
They had immediately jumped into the thick of the accident, Buck and Eddie breaking people out of their cars and Hen and Chim doing medical triage. Wes and Bobby had been assisting the whole way, too, just like a well-oiled machine.
There had been no one dead on arrival, no indication of the accident being one of the ones where there would be no survivors. The irony of all of it was that the man they’d lost had been one of the healthiest ones, all up until he’d collapsed. Buck still didn’t know what exactly happened to him, but they’d lost his pulse and all he could focus on was alternating compressions with Chim. They’d tried their best, but couldn’t resuscitate him.
They’d tried their best.
Just because he knows all this doesn’t mean he believes it right now.
As if Eddie’s reading his mind, he says, “we have time.”
So they take that time, waiting for the alarm to go off again, neither of them in any mood to . Buck lays down on his side, staring blankly at the door while Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, pulling a book out.
Buck studies him for a moment, pointedly avoiding the dark spot on his shoulder. 
As much as Eddie had been the one comforting him, Buck knows that he struggles with losses on calls, too, just in a different way. It’s rare that Buck can reach him when they’re at the firehouse, but he’s always been able to help when they’re alone. 
There’s a tightness to his expression that relaxes when he sees Buck looking.
“You don’t have to hide from me, you know,” he says quietly.
Eddie shakes his head, smiling at him. “I’m not. This was as much for me as it was for you.”
Eddie doesn’t lie to him, so Buck doesn’t push. Content with that, and out of energy for anything else, Buck lets his eyes slip close.
Eddie’s words follow him in sleep.
I’ve got you.
The first time he’d heard of skin hunger, Eddie was being discharged from the army.
He’d been wondering for months why he felt so on edge, why he constantly felt that a puzzle piece was missing. It had less to do with being shot out of the air and more with an unknown restlessness he didn’t know what to do with.
As it turned out, touch starvation was the culprit. He’d gone months without being touched skin-to-skin, the last being Shannon and Christopher just before he’d boarded the plane. 
It was a therapist at the VA who told him about it just before he was due to be home, that he was possibly touch starved. Eddie had been curious, sinking back in his seat to focus on the woman’s words. He hadn’t realized that not being touched in any way could be so anxiety inducing. 
There were platoons where Eddie had heard of all the members practically laying on top of one another during their deployments, leaving all of the toxic bullshit surrounding any type of touching behind, and now he knew why that was. Unfortunately for him, in hindsight, his platoon wasn’t one of them. 
He’d gotten home to an armful of his wife and son, realizing exactly how skin hungry he had been at that moment.
Eddie thinks that with this new system he and Buck have adopted recently, he’s never going to be touch starved again.
The thought comes to him as he watches Buck pace around his apartment, shooting periodic glares and annoyed looks his way. The same looks that’d gotten Eddie to abandon his truck at the station and get into Buck’s Jeep instead.
“Will you just talk to me?” Eddie says when he can’t stand Buck’s constant motion anymore. This earns him a scathing glare, and Buck advances on him.
“Why did you go back in without me?”
“Because it’s my job, Buck. The same reason you run back in.” 
This time, it was a house fire, set by a candle on an open flame. The resident had forgotten about the candle completely when she went to take a nap, and one gust of wind was enough to blow the cloth over the flame, setting it on fire.
Poor woman had woken up to her whole house in flames, disoriented enough to forget her pets completely. That had been the reason Eddie ran back in. Her dogs were difficult to find in a roaring home but he’d managed it before the whole house came down. 
“The woman was hysterical. You were there, Buck, you saw her. And we couldn’t just leave them there!”
“That’s not what I’m asking you. I’m asking why you went in without me ,” he emphasizes. “I turned around and you were gone.”
Eddie feels suspiciously like he’s being chastised by his parents, but he can see the lingering panic in Buck’s eyes, so he answers, “I wasn’t thinking.”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because if looks could kill, Eddie would be six feet under. Still, he maintains his honestly, knowing that Buck would expect nothing less from him. Despite that, the words set Buck off on a tirade that has more swear words than Eddie’s ever heard from him in all the time he’s known him.
He can’t help but just watch, still feeling the relief in Buck’s gaze when he’d come out, then shifting into alarm when the house crumbled not even a minute later. Eddie had just barely made his way out, a fact that he’s beyond grateful for.
He’s been on the other side of this equation, the one glaring at Buck for taking unnecessary risks that could’ve ended badly. He knows what spurs it on, and he’s familiar with the anxiety that lingers for days afterwards, surging almost every time Buck’s out of his sight.  
If he could muster any amount of courage, Eddie would’ve kissed Buck to shut him up. As it turns out, he can’t so he does the next best thing.
He hugs him.
Buck’s hands are propped on his own hips when Eddie does this, so he has to slip his arms in the space between arm and torso, setting his chin on his friend’s shoulder.
Buck quiets down, bringing his arms to stretch around Eddie’s shoulders. The anger in his stance drains immediately, leaving him warm and pliant against Eddie. 
Vaguely, Eddie muses how Buck’s hands can wrap around his entire torso, engulfing him in nothing but the familiar warmth of his friend. This is, out of all the other hugs they’ve shared, the most intimate one, just for the way they’re arranged. Eddie doesn’t think even air can get past where they’re pressed together, holding on tightly.
“Are you done now?” he asks tentatively.
“Ten seconds, and you would’ve been crushed under that house,” Buck whispers, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s ear, sending goosebumps down his spine. “It’s my job to be reckless, not yours.”
“It's not yours either,” Eddie counters. “The house looked fine. I know that doesn’t mean anything, but…” He’s out of words. There’s not really much he can say because he shouldn’t have sprinted back in without his partner. “I’m sorry,” he settles on instead.
He feels Buck’s smile as he shakes his head. “Just don’t do it again.”
They’re almost two months into this new routine when it changes, yet again.
This time, it’s a mundane change, brought about by nothing but time on hand, a silent home and the night to seal it in. They’re moving around Eddie’s kitchen with all the ease of months behind the movement, Buck clearing dishes while Eddie washes them, then swiping down the counters, then ending the night with a drink and a movie.
“So,” Eddie says out of nowhere, slowing the stream of the water. Buck looks up at him where he’s leaning against the sink, drying each dish Eddie passes him. “You know how you told me that we need eight hugs a day for maintenance?”
Buck doesn’t know where he’s taking this. “Yeah?”
“And four for survival, and then twelve for growth?”
Eddie hums, a multitude of expressions flying across his face, too fast for Buck to catch. He cocks his head, trying to figure out what his friend’s thinking. There’s a weird set to his mouth that Buck belatedly realizes is nervousness.
What does Eddie have to be nervous about?
He debates with himself here. Should he put the washcloth down to give Eddie his full attention, or should he just wait it out?
He chooses the latter. If Eddie's the one to bring it up, he’ll finish his thought. There’s not much he leaves hanging between them, so Buck trusts that, taking the proffered plate from him without a single word.
“What about kisses?”
He nearly drops the plate.
Eddie’s looking at him with a hint of amusement for the floundering expression that Buck’s sure is stuck on his face. But his heart feels like it stops and jackrabbits all within the span of two sentences — and that doesn’t sound healthy, because it isn’t — and all Buck can think about is finding an answer for the question.
He sets the plate and washcloth aside, digging his phone from his pocket and typing furiously. Eddie chuckles as he increases the water pressure, but Buck ignores him as he scans the page.
It’s an article from The Telegraph, and it clearly states that the perfect relationship involves five kisses a day.
His first thought is, ‘who has enough time to count kisses.’
His second thought is, ‘I need to meet this quota with Eddie.’
With a mouth drier than a desert, Buck says, “five.”
“Interesting,” Eddie says, shutting the water off and bracing his hands on the sink. He fixes him with an intense, resigned look, eyes crinkling at the corners with it and throat clicking. “What are we doing here, Buck?”
He doesn’t know what they’re doing — he almost never does. Still, he needs to ask. “What do you mean?”
There’s a lot of blurred lines in their relationship. Boundaries that have been pushed and shoved to the point of no recognition, steps taken and overtaken these invisible lines that Buck doesn’t even think exist anymore. There’s a lot of things Eddie could be talking about. 
“You’re my partner,” Eddie states simply. “And I don’t mean just work things. In everything . We’ve only gotten closer since we’ve started...hugging under the guise of maintenance. How much further are we going to take this?”
“I didn’t think we were ready,” Buck whispers. “There’s just been...a lot going on. And I didn’t want to push you away by trying something we’re not ready for, something we can’t come back from no matter how much we try.”
Eddie nods. It’s a valid explanation. They’re adults whose decisions impact other people, but most importantly, Eddie is the single most important adult in his life, steadily moving up the ranks to fix himself to the top over the years. Buck, with all the things he wants from him, has never been in a rush to make them exclusive for this very reason. He doesn't know what he'll do if he ever loses Eddie.
There’s a lot of risk, but some of the best things in life come from risks. 
“You know, sometimes, I have to actively tell my brain that we’re not together,” Eddie admits quietly, holding his gaze. Buck wants to look away, even though he knows the affection in his friend’s eyes is for him . He also knows that his own expression is more or less the same, because he’s never learned to hide an emotion in his life. “It’s not even that you’re my best friend. There’s just...a lot of ways our lives are looped together. Something that goes past friendship, but I need to hear it from you that I’m not just imagining things. I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t ever want to be the one to hurt you.”
“It’s the same for me,” Buck tells him. “On the days that I stay over, all I ever think about is why it can’t be like this all the time. Chris….he’s a big part of my life, Eddie. You both are, and I can’t risk that.” Then, thinking over the night, he amends it. “Well, I didn’t want to before now.”
“You wouldn’t be risking anything. I have to believe that this means something, and I’m tired of pining after the things I want.”
Despite himself, Buck wants to laugh at the word Eddie had used. He doesn't, but he wants to.
Pining. That’s exactly what they were doing — despite knowing that they had something good, something strong, something worth fighting for, they'd been sitting ducks for months. Buck hadn’t let himself fully believe that Eddie could be into him, because he hadn’t wanted to ignite hope. He hadn’t wanted to latch on.
He’s done all three of those things anyway, but for Eddie laying himself bare in front of him, Buck can do nothing but shift, pulling Eddie into his body.
“We should probably get working on those five kisses. They’re necessary for a successful relationship,” he manages, sliding his arms around Eddie’s waist. 
Eddie laughs, grinning widely as he leans forward, hooking his elbow behind Buck’s neck to keep them as close as possible as he presses their lips together.
Buck’s been kissed a lot, but this easily is the best kiss he’s ever had, if not least for the intimacy and inevitability of it.
There’s no awkward fumble as they kiss, but they spend a long time doing it, wrapped up in each other. It’s almost unbearably gentle, slow and passionate, and all these things Buck isn’t used to anymore. Things he doesn’t remember ever sharing with anyone.
Buck drifts his hands up Eddie’s back to his hair, weaving fingers into thick hair to tilt his head back, deepening the kiss and swallowing the rough sound that rises from Eddie’s throat. Heat unfurls through his stomach until he thinks his knees aren’t going to hold him up anymore.   
When they finally part for air, Buck opens his eyes slowly, finding Eddie beaming back at him. The clear happiness on his face makes Buck smile in turn. They’re still pressed together from chest to toe, still sharing the same breath, and part of Buck still feels like this is a fever dream.
“I love you,” Eddie says, moving to press a kiss against his cheek, and another against his jaw. Buck grins, not being able to resist stealing another kiss.
“I love you, too.” 
Eddie isn’t surprised that things don’t change between them.
The only thing that really changes is now, he’s not forced to remind himself that he and Buck are not together, no matter how much they may resemble the other couples that surround them.
Now, Buck’s his boyfriend. The mere thought of it makes him smile like a fool.
They keep things to themselves for a while, wanting to ease into a new facet of their relationship before they let the world know. The only person they’ve told is Christopher. 
It’s a decision Buck brought up, after not wanting the scrutiny he’d had during Abby while they were figuring things out, but not wanting Eddie to have to hide things from Chris.
And Eddie gets it. Every part of his life has been under a magnifying glass since the day he was born, and after Chris was born, under a microscope. He’s watched all the people back home dissect his life choices until Eddie’s second-guessing everything he does, and to an extent, he still does it. It’s become an unintended consequence of letting everyone’s words get to him.
Having something private, for himself, is a luxury Eddie knows has never been afforded to him and Chris when they were in El Paso. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to move in the first place, tired of his parents coddling Christopher, tired of fighting with them left and right, and absolutely unwilling to let Christopher be continually uncomfortable in being treated differently from his cousins.
It’s the best choice Eddie’s ever made.
The next one is finally taking the jump with Buck.
Buck, who’s starfished across him, fast asleep.
This is a new type of hug Eddie can always get behind, one that’s quickly becoming his favourite as the days fly by. 
Buck’s snoring gently into his shoulder, but his weight is grounding where Eddie lays quietly, ghosting barely-there fingers across his boyfriend’s skin. It’s early, enough that the sun is hardly peeking through the blinds, but late enough that the moonlight has continually dimmed.
Eddie tilts his chin down to press his lips to Buck’s head, hopping on every thread of thought his brain offers, weaving another complicated tapestry of linkages. It’s not anything bad, for once. He hasn’t woken up gasping for air, hasn’t woken up to his son calling out for him, and hasn’t woken up to Buck stuck in the dregs of a nightmare, either.
This time, Eddie thinks he’s woken up so he can savour this moment.
“It’s too early for you to be thinking this loudly,” Buck’s sleep-hoarse voice makes him jerk with surprise, only barely catching himself from biting clean through his tongue.
Buck tilts his head sleepily at him, and Eddie has to stifle a laugh at the half-closed eyes and bleary expression. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”
“Nothing,” Eddie says, tangling a hand in Buck’s curls. “Just that I love you.”
The words make Buck perk up a little. Eddie watches as he leans over to peer at the time blinking on the clock. “You’re thinking about how much you love me at four twenty-six in the morning?”
“Yeah,” he replies simply.
Buck hums, shifting somehow tighter against him and bringing a hand up to brush a thumb along his jaw. “I love you, too, you know. But I love you more when you’re well-rested and not a grump. Even if your grumpiness is adorable.”
Eddie has to laugh that time, drawing Buck up so he can kiss the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go to sleep.”
This is clearly satisfactory for 4:30 am, because Buck settles back down, tapping a light rhythm on Eddie’s shoulder as he drifts off again. 
Eddie smiles, feeling wholly content for the first time in a long time, and wraps his arms tighter around his boyfriend’s body.
And he sleeps.
In the morning, Buck finds another thing to add to their routine.
“Where do you even find these things?” Eddie asks as Buck flutters around the bedroom, seemingly looking for something. 
“Saw it in a video,” he answers absently, digging through the dresser until he finds two of Eddie’s black tank tops. “Ah-hah! Put that on.”
Eddie only barely catches it before it hits his face, glaring at Buck. Then he watches his boyfriend strip off his own shirt, and suddenly, his annoyance evaporates.
“Is this a strip tease? Because I’m very onboard with this, right now,” Eddie says, trailing his eyes down the length of Buck’s bare arms, the ones that make him think ungodly thoughts. The tank stretches across his build, a lot tighter than Eddie’s well-fitting one, and the thought settles like a hot flare at the base of his spine.
“Not right now, but that’s totally on the cards for another time as long as you do it, too.” Buck comes over to him, gesturing wildly. “Now sit cross-legged. Are you okay if I sit on you?”
One of these days, Buck’s research binges are going to kill him.
“You’re not that heavy,” Eddie tells him as he scoots over to the center of the bed, leaning back against the headboard.
“I weigh more than you.”
“I said you’re not that heavy, not that you weigh less than me,” he laughs, beckoning his boyfriend forward as he crosses his legs. Buck clambers on, swiftly settling down with his ankles linked behind Eddie’s back, and arms braced on his shoulders. Eddie automatically slides his along the length of Buck’s waist, keeping him close.
Eddie grins for having Buck on his lap, hand wandering south before Buck slaps it away with a laugh. “This is supposed to be intimate, not sexy.” 
“Fine, we’ll do it your way,” Eddie teases, resolving to keep his hands to himself. “What do I have to do?”
“This is...another kind of a hug, I guess,” Buck explains. “One where the focus is on intimacy and not sex. It’s supposed to make your relationship stronger, but I just like being close to you.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but Eddie can sense his nervousness, and holds him closer for it.
“This relationship is iron-clad, babe,” he replies, dragging his palms along the length of Buck’s spine until he’s pressed forward, forearms resting at the top of Eddie’s spine. “I like having you close, too. More than what’s probably reasonable.”
It’s true. Buck’s weight is grounding where he’s perched, and he thinks that he likes the idea of doing this without the expectation of sex. Buck’s arms bracket his shoulders, head tilted into the crook of Eddie’s neck. His palms are a welcome weight against Eddie’s shoulders blades, warm and anchoring.
Eddie shifts slightly, making Buck’s ankles lock tighter around him. He takes a deep breath and rests his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed.
Fuck, if this is what meditation is supposed to feel like, he wants to do it all day. 
Eddie doesn’t know how long they sit like that for, but even as he feels his legs going numb, he thinks he’d rather die than have Buck move right now. They’re both big men, and even though Eddie’s the one holding Buck right now, there’s a strange sense of feeling protected that overtakes him — one that he’s not familiar with.
“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” he whispers, not wanting to break their peaceful bubble. Buck hums his agreement against his skin, pressing chaste kisses along all the bare spots he can reach. There’s no heat to any of it, just a wave of warmth that encloses both of them.
He takes another deep breath, inhaling the scent of Buck’s clean, cologne-free skin. His curls tickle the tip of Eddie’s nose when Buck moves, and he moves so he doesn’t accidentally sneeze all over him.
“I didn’t know you were going to hug me that first night,” Buck brings up after a while, one hand moving to scratch at the short hairs at the nape of Eddie’s neck. “I just said the first thing to come to mind, and because I wanted you to stop thinking.”
“It worked. I didn’t think it through; all I knew was that I wanted to hug you, so I did,” he confesses.
Buck pulls back to look him in the eye, pushing his weight off Eddie’s legs to sit right in front of him instead. Eddie wants to protest, but he can feel the blood rushing back to his legs and the small bite of pain distracts him from saying anything. “I’m glad you did.”
“You’re probably the only thing I’ve wanted only for myself,” Eddie says quietly, the words fumbling in his mouth. He’s still not a hundred-percent with confessions, still doesn’t know how to properly word them, but for the blinding smile that takes Buck’s expression, Eddie thinks that it doesn’t matter.
Buck leans forward, shifting his legs until they’re underneath Eddie’s knees. “I’m all yours, Eddie,” he says, and then kisses him as if he hasn’t just obliterated Eddie’s world where it once stood with four words.
“Can we do this one again?” Eddie asks when they part. “All things considered, it’s your research binges that brought us here.”
His boyfriend laughs and nods. “Yeah, we can do this again. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
All the time in the world to be with Buck. Eddie likes the sound of that.
“This worked, didn’t it?” Buck asks, looking amazed — even though this was his idea.
“For feeling closer to each other? I definitely think so,” he agrees.
This embrace goes on the mental list, too. Eddie’s long since stopped keeping track of how many embraces they’ve shared, but he’s remembered how each one’s made him feel. This one goes under the protected, centered and stabilized categories.
There’s a lot that Eddie’s underestimated about touch, but as he watches his boyfriend throw his shirt back on, he’s beyond thankful that Buck thought to mention it that one night.
Buck kisses him once on his way out the door, calling Christopher’s name happily as he bounds down the hallway. Eddie watches him go, feeling struck with how much he loves this man.
So thankful.
97 notes · View notes
cirrius-akiyo · 5 months ago
Hear me out.
From the promos, we are almost 💯 certain that Eddie is the one who got shot.
And we are prompted for Buck taking care of Eddie while he is recuperating. And that is quality content nevertheless.
But what if--Buck got shot too? Or in any way got injured too?
Confused and in haze of pain, trying to reach out to Eddie, to get closer to the man bleeding on the pavement, never once breaking eye contact.
And Eddie saw Buck too. Bleeding all the same. Pleading for the younger man to stay down, to not come any closer, despite him drifting from the blood loss.
And later, when Eddie wakes up, Ana is with him instead of Buck, to his disappointment.
Because Buck couldn't be there.
Or Buck was there for a moment, but was forced to return to his own room.
Mutual feelings realization.
We could literally run with ideas.
33 notes · View notes
werewolfdiaz · a month ago
bite back buck/eddie, episode: 501, coda, panic attacks word count: 1k [ao3 link]
It starts in his chest, just as all heart, panic, or armed attacks do. It bubbles and burns, seeps into his lungs, his throat, his head.
One breath in, half a breath out. “I don’t panic,” Eddie whispers. Then, he whispers again. He whispers again. He lies again.
“I don’t panic,” Eddie repeats, like a mantra, a record, or broken prayer.
It’s all dark in the hospital. Too dark, too small and too dark. He closes his eyes. The pounding only worsens. Eddie leaves, he has to. He’s running out of room to breathe.
No one notices one man missing. One man in the dark, slipping through the chaos. He must have somewhere to be, surely, it would explain the running, the shaking, the fear, the tears.
Chest pain, discomfort. Feeling weak, lightheaded, or faint.
The doctor gave him a pamphlet. He never made it past the first page. Eddie left the brochure in his car, somewhere on the floor, a clear boot print marked in the middle. He remembers the boot print, the unfinished landscaping that caused it, but the words behind the dirt are forgotten. Something about numbness and sweating and a loss of breath.
Feelings of dread, danger, and foreboding. Rapid, pounding heart. Feeling weak, lightheaded, or faint. One beat, two beats—
“I don’t panic,” he repeats. A medic knows how to treat panic. Eddie never learned to treat a non-panic attack. Not panic, not his heart. No wounds to treat and too much gauze gone to waste. Eddie knows how to treat his heart; aspirin and blood thinners and a cocktail of pain relievers.
“I don’t panic.” He says it once, he says it twice. Eddie can treat a broken, blocked off heart, but he never learned how to heal the denial, anger, and confusion in his chest.
“I don’t panic,” Eddie tries to believe. His head and his chest tell two different stories. The signs and symptoms all pointing towards fear, his head refusing to believe what his heart already knows.
[read on ao3]
“I don’t panic,” he tries again. If he murmurs enough, his heart might start to believe him.
He meditates on the phrase. I don’t panic, I don’t panic.
“Eddie,” he hears. It cuts through the noise, the monitors, the fourth squeaky wheel on the gurney rolling back and forth, back and forth. There’s a hand on his shoulder, just above the scar.
Racing thoughts, racing heart, uncontrollable fears.
“Eddie, just stay with me, alright?” He hears once again. Buck tries to find his gaze. Eddie avoids his eyes. All he hears is a broken record skipping and scratching and scratching and scratching.
Just stay with me, we’re so close.
Eddie nods. It’s the first truth of the night. He nods because he’s here, not because he’s alright. There’s a hand on his shoulder, just above the scar, and a hand in his hand, just below the scar.
“Eddie I think you’re—”
“—Don’t tell me I’m having a panic attack,” Eddie chokes out. “I don’t panic.”
If it weren’t for the cracks hidden in his voice, it might’ve been believable. Believable to anyone but Buck. Buck, who somehow finds the space to file every microexpression in his head to filter through later, pinning pages and evidence to a mental wall, connected with red strings and accusations. If Eddie rolled his eyes the wrong direction, Buck would notice and find a way to make sense of it all. He would blame it on a headache and find a way to dim the lights.
“You sure?” he asks, absolutely unconvinced.
Eddie tries again and again and again. “I don’t panic.”
“Well, maybe you should let yourself panic,” Buck offers. “Could be good for you.”
“I can’t afford to panic.”
“Neither of us can. But we can’t afford to bottle it up either.”
His throat tightens, another ailment he knows how to treat. He fights the swelling that isn’t there and forces the words to rise. “When did ‘my’ panic become ‘our’ panic?”
“So you admit you’re panicking?”
Eddie presses his hands into his face. No confirmation, no denial, just his heart growing tired of racing so far. It beats slower and slower, but his head is still light. Eddie closes his eyes and searches for the scratching sound. The squeaking, the scratching, the fourth gurney wheel.
“I’m fine,” he says, and really, he tries to believe it. He dedicates all the focus in the world to standing on his own two feet. They don’t trust him to hold his weight, and for a moment, Eddie buckles. If he starts to sway, Buck doesn’t mention it, but rather holds him steady, a hand on his shoulder, just above the scar.
“Y’know, you’re almost as bad at lying as I am.” The hand holding him upright pulls away. Without the anchor, he fears for his chest, fears the second wave that may or may not wash over.
“Just drop it,” he bites back, agitated and bitter.
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I didn’t ask for it, Buck.”
“Yeah, well you don’t get to decide who cares about you,” he shouts, loud enough to drown his mantra, his prayer, his fourth squeaky wheel.
A deep breath in, a half breath out. Buck steps back slowly, Eddie has every opportunity to stop him. He takes none, he takes the silence instead.
“You should take a few minutes, work on your lying,” he says. There’s half a smile hidden in the bickering, but mostly frustration and a little residual fear. “Bobby needs us on the roof, and you need an excuse to not be there.”
Chest pain, discomfort. Feeling weak, lightheaded, or faint. Feeling weak. Feeling weak. Feeling weak.
He’s left alone in the hospital, feeling weak, feeling weak, feeling weak. Eddie can still trace the path Buck left on the ground, up the stairs, to the team, to the roof.
“I don’t panic,” he repeats once more, a little more cracked than the first dozen repetitions. Eddie follows the path against his better judgement, against the shaking in his hands, his chest, his unsteady breath. No truth, no excuse, just a job to do with no room to panic.
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athena-grants · 7 months ago
y’ dear followers and 911 friends...pls rec me/send me your “Eddie and Buck are married but only one of them works with the 118 and they get injured and the other comes to the hospital and meets the team” fics PLEASE
I crave them,,,,
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theladyandthewolves · 2 months ago
Sail Away With Me (Honey)
Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Summary: Buck’s crew captured a pirate’s ship, but someone amidst the prisoners is going to make him rethink everything.
Word Count: 491
A/N: Written for the prompt “Pirates” for day 18 of @augustwritingchallenge Thank you @marcia-elena for the support and beta ♥
“Look what I found hiding under the bunks,” the officer says, grinning as he pushes a child that can’t be more than six or seven years old to the deck. The kid’s crying, and the few soldiers around laugh, but Buck can feel his chest tighten, something that hasn’t happened since he joined the King's Guard, since he put aside all his emotions to become an instrument of order and guardian of the law.
They’re standing on the main deck of the pirate ship they boarded, rounding their prisoners before taking them back to land, an assignment no different than every other mission Buck has been sent on before. Yet something feels different, sour and grim, as Buck watches the scared little boy trying to hold back his tears while his world’s falling apart.
Continue reading on AO3
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hermiione · 5 months ago
The silence is deafening.
It’s like all the life has been leached out of the world and Buck - Buck is numb. There’s something dripping down his face, Buck can feel it in the vague way he can also see the empty space in front of him where Eddie had been standing just moments before, but Buck is weightless.
There’s something happening around him, and he can’t, he can’t - Eddie. Where’s Eddie?
Then there’s someone tackling him to the ground, and he can feel the tarmac where he hits his head, and there is someone screaming somewhere in the distance, something about a firefighter being down, but all that is background noise.
Because - because Buck can see Eddie now. He’s just on the other side of the truck, lying on the street.
Why is he just lying there?
There’s something dark and liquid pooling around his head. He’s not moving, but no - no, Buck can see his hand move the tiniest bit, reaching out to him. To Buck.
Buck tries to go to him, but there’s something pinning him down. Buck tries to shake the weight off. Eddie needs him. Eddie needs him.
Buck will crawl through hell itself to get to his best friend.
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maddiebuckettebuckley · 5 months ago
here’s a coda(ish) ficlet I wrote to calm me down that ended up being mostly about catholic guilt oops:
It didn’t feel like this the last time. It seems stupid now but on some level Eddie thought that getting hit with a bullet should feel the same every time. Different guns, different bullets, different angles, different targets. Why would it feel the same? Stupid. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, since the last time he barely felt anything until he woke up the next day blunted by pain meds. 
This time it feels like he’s drowning. Freezing cold and wet and exhausted. A dull ache runs through his whole body. It’s familiar, at least. 
Beneath the truck, Buck’s face is all he can see, horror-stricken and splattered with blood that Eddie hopes is his own and not Buck’s. If he can just get to Buck, then Buck can help, and he won’t give up like Eddie wants to right now, and everything will be fine. Eddie reaches in his direction. Or tries to. But everything hurts and he can’t tell where his injury is to assess the damage and he’s just so goddamn tired. 
Maybe if he can just reach his Saint Christopher pendant, everything will be fine. It’s closer than Buck is and it’s kept him safe every time before. But he can’t lift his arm at all. Can barely move his fingers. 
It’s funny, he’s watched a lot of people die. He’s held strangers’ hands while they die, friends’ hands, Shannon’s hands. He knows every moment leading into death like he knows the road leading to his childhood home. He stares death in the face as often as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. And he’s still as terrified of it as he was when he was five years old and their priest’s homily detailed the tortures awaiting sinners in hell. Not that he believes in hell or heaven or much of anything anymore. Heaven’s a nice thought, but if it is real, it’s not where he’s going.
That’s the shitty thing about heaven. Even if it is real, everyone he loves will end up there, but he’ll never see them again. Still, he hopes it’s real. He hopes Shannon is happy and safe and someday, a hundred years from now, she can hug their son again.
Did he hug Christopher this morning before he left for work? He was so tired. He hopes he hugged Christopher. If today was the one day he didn’t hug Christopher before work… He must have. He always does. 
God, he’s gonna miss that kid. He’s growing up so fast, and Eddie’s gonna miss so much. If he could just crawl a few feet he’d probably be fine, and be there for Christopher’s graduation, and his wedding, and meet his grandkids and everything in between. But he’s too tired to lift his arms. Of course his last act on Earth will be failing his son. Maybe Saint Christopher will come save him, if only so that his Christopher won’t have to grow up without both of his parents. Does that count as a prayer?
Maybe he should start going to church again. 
Everything is blurry now, so he thinks he should rest his eyes for a bit and the next thing he’s aware of is pressure against his shoulder, accompanied by shouting nearby. The comforting numbness that had taken over shatters in an instant. Pain radiates through his body with no start or end, and he is, momentarily, very awake. He unleashes a string of curses that would secure his sentence in hell.
“Fuck, I know. I’m so sorry,” Buck’s voice says, his words frantic and cracking. He says something else but Eddie can’t hear it over the sound of his own screaming. As he drifts into unconsciousness, the screaming subsides just long enough for him to hear, distantly, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” 
Maybe Saint Christopher really is looking out for him.
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911fic-library · 12 days ago
Hi I need your help finding a fic!
It was a near death experience story where on a case one of them had to save the other (I think it was like tackling them out of the way of a car or something, may have been raining). Anyways after the adrenaline wears off they’re both really affected by the implication of almost losing the other. Buck is in the locker room trying to get dressed but he can’t button up his shirt while his hands are shaking and so Hen helps him. She talks to him about how he’s feeling and he says something like ‘I’m being silly” but then she tells him that Eddie is just as freaked out upstairs with Bobby and maybe also Chim.
I know it may seem like not a lot to go on but I'm hoping someone will recognize it
That was perfect, I actually managed to find it in my bookmarks!
you cause lanterns to light by @buckactuallys
"He doesn’t hear a motor over the noise of the rain and the cars on the other side of the road, but he sees a light and realises there’s a car barrelling towards him on the technically barred street only a second before a body collides with his and pushes him out of the way right before the car passes over the spot he was just standing in."
prompt fill for "kisses in the rain"
~ Mod T
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futures-tense · 5 months ago
So on Mondays and Tuesdays I revisit fics I’ve read because I cant read new ones right and I need to do a shout out to fire on fire by @extasiswings because Its so good and i always loose my mind so
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babyboy-buck · 10 days ago
hmm feeling very tempted to write a spooky au buddie fic that involves ghosts and haunted houses and falling in love for halloween...
i'd want to post it before october ends but also fics i think will be short ficlets/drabbles end up being 15k-24k words every time and i might not finish in time. but i am also in desperate need of spooky/horror 911 fics so maybe I need to put it out into the world.
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