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mellaithwen · a day ago
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.
Eddie waits.
Buck sighs.
"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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capseycartwright · 2 hours ago
46 for the fictional kisses prompt 🥰🥰
Buck twisted on the couch as he heard his front door unlock. It could only be Eddie or Maddie, and he couldn’t help but smile as he realised it was Eddie, the familiar heavy thud of an LAFD gear-bag hitting the floor with an unceremonious thump. “Hey, Eddie,” he called out, not needing to see to know Eddie was taking himself through a familiar routine - the same, regardless of if they were at Buck’s, or Eddie’s apartment. Bag down, shoes off, keys on the counter - Eddie shed off the day the same way every time, and Buck loved the familiarity of it, the way it was always the same.
Eddie was dragging his feet along the wooden floor of Buck’s apartment, the tired shuffle a fair indication of how his shift had gone. The fact he was wearing a mismatched outfit of a flannel shirt, and his LAFD sweatpants, was the second indication that Eddie felt like a zombie. That, or he’d had a really bad day.
“Hey,” Buck made a grabby hands gesture at Eddie, his boyfriend near collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh, his head in Buck’s lap. One of the things Buck hadn’t expected, when they’d started dating, was the way Eddie gave, and asked for, affection. He didn’t carry himself like someone who craved it; not the same way Buck did, seeking out physical affection from wherever he could get it. No, Eddie was much more closed off; until they’d exchanged those long awaited ‘I love you’s’ and suddenly Eddie’s need to be close was clear. “Bad day?” he inquired.
Eddie huffed out a sigh. “I’ve had a terrible day at work,” he said, the admission laced with a whole twelve hours worth of bad calls, and sniping co-workers. Buck knew what those terrible days felt like - however much they all might love their jobs, bad days came, and sometimes they hit you with the force of a semi-truck. “So just kiss me.”
Buck couldn’t help but smile, the expression soft as he leaned down, tilting Eddie’s chin back, and pressing his lips to the other man’s. Kissing Eddie had always been a revelation, frankly. Eddie’s mouth was soft, and he was beautifully responsive, even as tired as he clearly was, there and then, easily opening his mouth so Buck could slide his tongue against Eddie’s. He could feel every swallow and movement of Eddie’s throat, Buck keeping one hand at the curve of Eddie’s neck, right where his throat met his chin, the other hand scratching gently through Eddie’s hair.
As Buck kissed him, he could feel Eddie relax, his boyfriend’s body melting into Buck’s embrace, Eddie loosely holding onto Buck’s elbow, but happy to be guided by Buck. Kissing Eddie was - it was unlike anything Buck had ever felt in his life. He’d been in love before, and he’d kissed his fair share of people, but nothing had ever felt like this - like coming home, however cheesy that may sound. He could taste the gentle mint of the chewing gum Eddie favoured, the mint not quite strong enough to cover the lingering taste of black coffee. Eddie had probably drank a fair few, to make it through his shift, Buck noted.
A part of him wondered if he should find it gross, how he could taste Eddie’s day, in his mouth - but oddly, it just sort of filled in the gaps of what kind of day Eddie had, and wasn’t willing to talk about. Lots of coffee meant exhausting calls, and the chewing gum meant that Eddie had probably stripped out of his uniform without bothering to have a shower, or wash his face, eager to get home - eager to get home to Buck. As amazing as it was to have someone to come home to, now, Buck liked being the person Eddie came home to just as much. Christopher was away at summer camp, and so it was just the two of them that night - Buck had already planned their evening, wanting to take the burden of choosing away from Eddie after a twelve-hour shift. He was going to run a bath, for Eddie - and order them in some Italian, from their favourite place. He’d even bought their favourite wine, and there was a tiramisu stashed in the back of his fridge. He could make Eddie’s day better, and that was a responsibility Buck took seriously.
Pulling back to take a breath, Buck took a second to admire the way Eddie’s cheeks were flushed pink, his hair tousled and eyes dark as he gazed up at Buck, expression open and honest and so full of love that sometimes Buck wasn’t sure what to do with it all. “Better?” he asked.
Eddie hummed. “A little more,” he suggested, a cheeky lilt to his voice that hadn’t been there before, his boyfriend perking up, slightly.
And well - who was Buck to refuse a lap full of Eddie Diaz to kiss?
send me a kissing prompt
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woodchoc-magnum · a day ago
Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Bobby Nash, Howie "Chimney" Han, Athena Grant, Maddie Buckley, Taylor Kelly, Original Characters, Ravi Panikkar, Albert Han (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Coming Out, Drama, Mutual Pining, Firehouse 118 Crew as Family (9-1-1 TV), Supportive Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV), Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Light Evan "Buck" Buckley/Taylor Kelly, Break Up, Worried Eddie Diaz, Protective Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Eddie Diaz, Panic Attacks, Jealous Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bisexual Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), First Kiss Summary:
Set post-Season 5, Episode 4 and 5 - in which Buck and Taylor's relationship is slowly crumbling, Eddie has some big realisations about his sexuality, and true feelings are revealed.
This fic is complete - I will post the next chapter tomorrow. 😊
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archerincombat · a day ago
to be perfectly queer
“Did you know,” Buck asks, “That one in four people are queer?”
Chim narrows his eyes at the crowded station kitchen. “And yet there are 20 firefighters on this shift,” he announces, a little too loudly. “Fess up, people!”
“I hope it’s Eddie,” Ravi says. “He’s hot.”
“That man,” Hen says firmly. “Is straight. I would know.”
Buck’s face does something complicated. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice pitched a little too high. “Yeah. Totally.”
read on ao3
Most people don’t make a habit of betting against Hen’s gaydar.
It’s a well-honed thing — ”years of being a practicing lesbian have made you a perfect one” — Chim teases. In all her life, she’s never been wrong, (about this, and well, most other things) but mostly this.
It’s a relatively calm day at the station: they’re rounding out a 24 hour. Bobby is, as always, in the kitchen and Hen’s playing video games with Ravi as Chim smacks his gum and judges them silently. Ravi’s losing miserably, but Hen throws a red shell in his direction anyway. 
They’re all pretty much bored out of their minds, so when Buck, walking disaster, comes trotting up the stairs like a golden retriever, practically wagging his invisible tail, she knows it’s going to be good.
“Did you know,” Buck starts, leaping beside Hen and waving his phone around like he won the lottery. “That one in four people are queer?”
Hen arches her eyebrow. “That seems a little high, Buck,” she says a bit doubtfully. “Maybe in California that’s true, but worldwide?”
Chim makes a tsking noise and narrows his eyes at the crowded station kitchen. “There are 20 firefighters on this shift,” he announces, a little too loudly. “Fess up, people!”
Buck blinks like he was about to say something and then thinks better of it, a hesitant expression knitting his eyebrows together, but ultimately just decides to pull up the exact statistic. “Okay, so it’s more like the vast majority of Americans think 25% of the population is gay, but,” he looks around. “Wonder if anyone’s hiding out for real.”
“I hope it’s Eddie,” Ravi says, finally acclimated to the 118’s supposed weirdness. “He’s hot.”
“That man,” Hen says firmly. “Is straight. I would know.”
Buck’s face does something complicated. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice pitched a little too high. “Yeah, totally.”
It’s no secret that Buck’s been pining for Eddie in some way since he joined the 118, but something about the tone sets off Hen’s warning bells. Before she can ask what’s going through his head, the man himself strolls up the stairs and heads for the coffee pot.
“Eddie,” Chim calls out. “What are you?”
Eddie stills, like he isn’t quite sure he heard right. “Um,” he looks down at his uniform before glancing up, eyebrows furrowed and head cocked to the side, trying to figure out what they’re about to laugh at him for without any context clues. “A Taurus?”
The bell goes. Hen gets into the ladder truck first while Buck ribs Ravi for something and a sleepy Eddie mourns the loss of his coffee. Beside her, Chim pulls out his phone from his pocket and types something before pressing send.
Hen and Buck’s phone buzz. It’s less than inconspicuous. Chim flashes them grin. 20 dollars he’s not. 
She shakes her head, You’re on.
Buck rolls his eyes, casting a quick look in Eddie’s direction as if waiting for something, a sign from the universe maybe. The other man just blinks blearily, even though it’s 9 in the morning, and slumps against the window. Hen isn’t sure if Buck got his answer, but he sighs and texts back: Please leave me out of this.
It’s said with a smirk, so Hen thinks he means it like I feel like I have too many emotions to answer that question and not I’m going to go home and spiral about everything I’ve ever known.
“What are you doing?” Ravi cranes his neck to peer over Chim’s shoulder like Denny might. “Are you guys making another bet? You bet on everything.”
“They’re betting on whether Bobby ever hooked up with a guy in college,” Buck says, deadpan and into the headset so that everyone, including Bobby, has to picture Shatsky from Minnesota going at it in a dorm room in the mid-1980s. 
Eddie cackles, but no one else really says much after that.
Hen forgets about it.
She has a life of her own; a puppy and a son who she loves; arguably the best wife in the entire fucking world. They make mac and cheese for dinner because Denny requests it and they’re all laughing while Hen’s mother comments fondly from the kitchen.
She’s trying to forget about it.
It’s when she watches Karen says something about zodiac signs that her will to not talk about gambling in front of Denny breaks — Hen’s mom is from Las Vegas, so it probably broke a long time ago, but Karen likes to pretend they have some semblance of control here — “Do you think Eddie’s gay?”
Karen lights up like Hen’s just given her another diamond ring. “Okay, so I have a couple theories about that!” She chirps. “Because the other day he was dropping Christopher off for a sleepover and we were talking about movies and he mentioned that his favorite character from Lion King was Scar? And if Scar’s not queercoded then I don’t know what-”
Hen refuses to believe what she’s hearing. Her own wife… “Babe,” she says. “He was literally checking the baseball scores at work yesterday. He doesn’t know the difference between RuPaul and Queer Eye. Even Bobby knows what a French Tuck is. How is he anything but straight?”
Karen turns from the pasta to put a hand on Hen’s arm. Arguably, she’s putting more thought into the situation than required, but Hen’s wife doesn’t do anything by halves. “You don’t have to fit a stereotype to be apart of the queer community,” she scolds lightly. “You know that, Hen.”
And...yeah she feels thoroughly chastised. “I just,” she frowns. She loves Eddie like a brother, he’s family after all, and she doesn’t want- “You don’t think I did something, do you? To make him feel like he can’t come to me?”
“I think Eddie’s story is Eddie’s to manage,” Karen replies, because she’s literally the smartest person in the world. “Don’t beat yourself up over that.” She pauses, stirs the mac-and-cheese once as if she’s over it. “Put me in for 50 on not straight though.”
Hen walks in to shift the next day and makes a beeline for the loft. 
She checked the schedule, they’ve got about 30 minutes before Eddie turns up for shift to discuss everything. She puts the betting box on the breakfast bar in front of Chim; Ravi stares at it like it’s a sacred heirloom.
“I heard Karen put 50 on not straight,” Chim says. “How are you feeling? Thinking about dropping out yet?”
Bobby’s eyes grow wide. “Please tell me you weren’t being serious yesterday,” he pleads. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay.”
From the couch, Buck narrows his eyes. “That’s an awfully diplomatic answer, Cap.” He points a finger at him dramatically. “Almost like you’re hiding something.”
Bobby splutters at the accusation and Hen’s about to tell Buck to knock it off when he says. “Didn’t we all experiment in college?”
Buck literally shouts in excitement and starts chasing Bobby down the stairs demanding an explanation and maybe perhaps every single detail about Bobby’s college life. Hen’s trying to process everything while Chim texts Maddie and Albert about this new revelation, snickering the entire time.
“I’m confused,” Ravi pipes in. As if any of them have answers for him. “But I’ll put 20 dollars on Eddie being straight. That’s who we’re talking about here, right?”
“Yeah…” Chim draws out, shooting Ravi a look that can only be described as disgusted. “But why-”
“I like Hen better than you,” he says promptly. “Also, I don’t think Eddie likes me very much.”
Now it’s Hen’s turn to be baffled. “What does that have to do with his sexuality?”
“It’s what he deserves.”
With a sigh, Hen collects his bet as Buck trudges back up the stairs, tail between his legs like Bobby threatened to not let Buck and May hang out if he didn’t stop bothering him, and goes back to his spot on the couch, ignoring the rest of them.
Almost like he’s hiding something.
“Okay listen,” Chim starts. “Eddie can’t do math-”
“No gay person can do math.”
Chim looks like a man on a mission. “Um, first of all, your wife. And second, if you’d let me finish, I was going to say he can’t do math, drive, or cook. Quintessentially gay.”
“Or,” Hen counters. “He’s just extremely straight, and that all makes perfect sense.”
“I can cook, drive, and do math,” Ravi interjects. “What does that make me?”
Buck barely glances up from his book. “A nuisance.”
“Come on, Buckaroo,” Chimney makes his way over to him wearing a similar expression to Buck only moments earlier. “You’re saying Eddie hasn’t told you anything? I thought you two were best friends.”
Buck raises one very unimpressed eyebrow. It’s actually kind of concerning, not that any of them are going to stop meddling because of it. If Buck wanted them to stop, he would tell them. “I think if you want to know what Eddie’s told me you should ask Eddie.” His face morphs into something just a few shades away from fear. “No, wait-”
And for the second time in as many days, the man appears as if summoned. “Eddie, I’ve got a joke for you,” Chim calls, tripping over himself to get down the stairs. Ravi isn’t far behind, which makes Hen think that he’s a lot more like Chim than he ever was like Buck. “Four queers walk into a firehouse-”
“Alright,” she shoves the box back into her backpack and sits beside Buck. “What’s going on with you?”
She expects him to deny anything. Instead, he sinks back against the pillows with a wandering gaze that keeps drifting towards the first floor. “I think you all should’ve bet less money,” he says simply, and returns to reading about the Stonewall Riots.
On day five, Hen takes Buck’s advice.
Eddie’s sitting on one of the barstools scrolling through his phone with his eyebrows furrowed. It’s one of the few moments Buck isn’t glued to his side, even if they can hear him ordering Ravi around down below. Hen steals one of his carrots and waits.
“Eddie,” she says without preamble when he finally looks up to greet her. She tries to keep her voice level. “You’re straight, right.”
It comes out sounding more like a statement than a question and Eddie’s mouth opens slightly. He looks around to see if anyone’s filming. “Are you trying to hypnotize me?”
“Is that an answer?”
He quirks his eyebrows up, meeting Hen’s gaze with a challenging one of his own. Swiping out of what looks like a Wikipedia page, he leans forward. “Don’t you think I would tell you if I wasn’t?”
Eddie snorts, leaning back and glancing over the railing before looking back at her. “Fair enough,” he says. “Is that what you guys were betting on this whole time? I assume it wasn’t really Bobby’s-”
“You’re dodging the question, Edmundo,” Hen teases, because he doesn’t look annoyed. (Actually, the man’s got the least subtle facial expressions in the world, Hen knows he’s not annoyed). “I’ve got money on this.” 
It’s getting to be bigger than Hen wanted. Ravi passed on information to his friends from B-shift and she can hear them gossip about it on their way out of the station; the other day, Bobby put a $20 on not straight and Athena told Hen it’s tearing their household apart.
She’s not above putting an end to the whole thing, in any way she has to. But really, she’d just like an answer.
“Listen,” Eddie’s smile wavers slightly, but it does. “I’m figuring it out. It’s not...most people don’t have a sexuality crisis in their 30’s. After they’ve been married to a woman who they had a kid with. But,” he smirks. “When I do figure it out, I think 50% of the cut seems only fair.”
He glares playfully as the rest of the crew makes their way up the stairs to start on lunch. “Chimney wants me to report you to HR.”
“Oh, I can think of a number of things you and Buck have done-” She clamps her mouth shut. “Have you told him any of this?”
His eyes flit over to Buck and he smiles. “I’m figuring it out.”
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eddie-diass · 2 days ago
anyways have a snippet from my fic that i will now be scrapping in favor of a new intro [save for the dip/scrub/dry]:
Don’t you think this might be… confusing… for Christopher?
Confusing. No, what was confusing was getting here. Allowing himself to selfishly pursue his own happiness. 
Confusing was untangling the person Eddie was from the person his parents had wanted him to be. The two were inextricable for most of his life, but slowly, he’s been separating the two—wriggling the shame from where it’s rooted deep in his chest and suckling on his fear. At some point, Buck had reached a hand into the dirt next to Eddie’s and shook him from the inside out. He keeps it there, even when Eddie’s too tired to keep trying.
But Buck never gives up. 
He hadn’t given up when Eddie needed time to interlace his fingers with Buck’s while they walked around in the grocery store. Or when they both walked into Christopher’s parent-teacher conference as partners. 
And he certainly didn’t give up trying to win over Ramon and Helena tonight when they had consistently insinuated that their… lifestyle choice was inconsiderate of Chris. To his parents’ credit, they managed to maintain some semblance of cordiality after Eddie broke the news, but their eyes kept flicking between Buck’s arm wrapped protectively around Eddie’s shoulders and their grandson’s face as if searching for proof of the discomfort they’ve projected on him. 
Tremoring still from the exertion, Eddie directs the remaining nervous energy into the dishes Buck had been collecting from the table.  
A part of Eddie had wanted to wait to tell them until, well, wedding invitations would be sent out and he would never have to bear witness to the way their faces would flicker between shock and disappointment. It’s not so much that he anticipated ever setting fire to the home he’s made with Buck at the threat of his parents’ input, but it’s fucking exhausting having to swallow their judgement. They work in tandem—Helena grabbing Eddie by the jaw to keep his mouth open while Ramon funnels every projected fear and failure into his choking throat—and leave him sore and gasping for air. 
But they had found out about Shannon’s pregnancy through word of mouth, and Eddie wanted this to be different. 
Because everything was, with Buck. 
So they had invited his parents to visit for the weekend under the guise of wanting Chris to spend some time with his grandparents before he starts middle school in a few weeks. Abuela had offered to provide accommodations—saying something about how she has such a big, empty house and too much food in her fridge, anyways. 
(Eddie’s never been more grateful for his lack of a guest bedroom.)
“Do you… wanna talk about it?” A familiar warmth wraps around Eddie, and only now does he realize how, between the soap and the hot water, his hands are a little raw. “Or not yet?” Buck gives a quick squeeze as Eddie leans into the touch—fully knowing Buck will support the extra weight. The dinner was, for the most part, fine, but Eddie can’t help fixating on the way he wanted to recoil and revert to a more… agreeable version of himself. One his parents could digest better alongside their well-done steaks. 
(And there’s the shame, again, thriving in the chill of his uneasiness. 
Eddie sighs, “Not–not now. Later.” 
A hand snakes under his shirt and starts to rub circles there. With every rotation, Eddie unwinds further and further into Buck’s arms—the tension so slack, his head rolls onto his boyfriend’s shoulder behind him. Christopher went with his parents to his abuela’s house, so the house is quieter than usual. 
Maybe that’s why Eddie’s thoughts still feel so loud. 
Buck must hear them, too, “What do you need, baby?” He breathes the words into Eddie’s ear as he presses his lips in time with the pulses felt along the length of Eddie’s exposed neck. At the juncture where his jaw meets his throat, Buck nips at the skin before pressing an even sweeter, softer kiss over the bite. 
There’s something that can help settle him, and Eddie has gotten better at asking. 
But it’s still—... 
It’s not easy, voicing it. 
He turns to face Buck—careful not to separate themselves more than necessary in the process—and rests in the blue sanctuary of his gaze, “To get out of my head.” 
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evanbucklies · 2 days ago
27 from that list please??
Thank you for the prompt!
“I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”
Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Chim, calm down. We’re not dying. We’re literally just stuck in a room, it’s fine.”
A panic room, to be exact, some dumbass paranoid rich person’s idea of protection. It's a home office, outfitted with steel walls and a steel door, and a nice little far too easily pushed button on the desk. A button Eddie had accidentally triggered when he and Chimney had gone to fetch their patient’s medication.
Chimney groans, letting his head thunk back against the wall he’s leaning against. “So says you. For all we know this room is about to fill with poison gas.”
“Oh I guess I missed the part where the patient was a Bond villain, my bad,” Eddie replies, perching on the edge of the desk.
Chim glares at Eddie. “It’s not funny.”
“Yeah, you’ll notice I’m not actually laughing. What’s actually going on, Chim? I don’t want to be stuck here either obviously, but there’s something going on here that’s making you really upset.”
Chimney sighs. “We don’t have any signal in here,” he says, pulling his phone out to look at it again like that may have changed. Eddie doesn’t have to look at his to know it hasn’t.
He nods. “Yeah, steel walls will do that. The team knows we’re in here though, so-“
“But Maddie doesn’t.”
Everything clicks into place. “She can’t get through to you.”
“When I came back to work after she came home, I told her to call me anytime if she needs anything at all. But we’re in here for god knows how long, and she can’t call.” Chimney’s eyes look wet. “What if she needs me for something while we’re stuck here?”
“Then she’ll call Buck, or Albert. She’s doing better, you’ve told me that yourself, and I’ve seen it. If she needs help and can’t get a hold of you she’ll call someone else.”
Chimney takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. I know. Thanks though.”
Eddie nods and they lapse into silence for a few moments before Chimney clears his throat. “And I’m sorry I called you an idiot. I may have panicked a little bit. I’m not a huge fan of being stuck somewhere.”
Eddie laughs. “It’s ok. Besides, I’m sure any minute now Buck’s gonna come busting through that door to rescue us.”
Chim arches an eyebrow and Eddie hadn’t felt trapped by the steel walls but now he has the distinct sensation of being caught. “I take it back, you are an idiot.”
“That’s rude.”
“And yet, true. What was it you said, Eddie? ‘Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.’ I’d think you’d know that a little better than most people.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh, sure you don’t.”
Eddie sighs. “He’s family, Chim.”
Chimney nods. “Yep. Except, you know, I see both of you as my family. But something tells me the two of you don’t see each other as that kind of family. You see each other the way I see Maddie.”
Eddie can’t argue that point, at least not his side. But, “Buck doesn’t-“
“See? Idiot.”
Eddie frowns, and now it’s Chimney’s turn to roll his eyes. “Ok, when he inevitably does come busting in here, pay attention to which one of us he won’t be able to take his eyes off. Because it’s not going to be me.”
Eddie crosses his arms, not responding, and Chimney doesn’t press. They fall into an easy quiet, waiting, and they sit there for maybe fifteen more minutes before there’s noise at the door, and then it’s swinging open.
Buck enters, eyes immediately searching, and his face morphs into a brilliant smile when he finds Eddie. His eyes dart away for a second, just long enough to catalogue that yes, Chimney is there and in one piece, and then he’s looking at Eddie again, and Eddie’s stomach swoops.
They file out, Buck chattering away about how he had to badger the homeowner into giving him instructions on disabling the panic room. Eddie glances over at Chim, expecting to see a smug look, but instead Chim only has eyes for his phone, a small, relieved smile on his face.
Eddie looks back at Buck, feeling a similar smile spread across his own features.
Maybe Chimney’s right, and it’s time he takes his own advice.
Send me more prompts from this list!
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prettyboybuckley · 19 hours ago
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i should be dancing with you by prettyboybuckley 3.1k | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Hen has been talking about this new gay bar that a friend of hers recommended and that she and Karen want to check out, extending the invitation to all of them.
Now, Buck has been to plenty of gay bars in his life, has known he's bisexual since seventh grade when he got his first kiss from Andy Miller. So he didn't have to think long before saying yes.
Eddie, however, Eddie was hesitant. Which Buck gets, because the man is straighter than straight, raised in a conservative family. Going to a gay bar is probably a big step for someone like Eddie.
OR: when dancing leads to more
read on ao3
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homerforsure · 2 days ago
Whumptober No. 20
trunk / trapped underwater / solitary confinement
No. 24
self-induced injuries to escape / flashback / revenge
(Follows prompt 11: Adrift)
Buck never really blacks out completely. His consciousness waxes and wanes as his limp body is driven through the city and there are moments when he remembers to try and fight, when he twists uselessly from side to side, when he struggles to see out the window like he might be able to tell where he’s going. Like it might matter. Other moments he’s hypnotized by the passing lights, the hum of the road. Each time he breaks away, remembering where he really is, Buck wants to scream for wasting time. But he can’t hold on. Inevitably he fades again. 
Fear sits like a devil on his chest the entire ride but when the truck pulls into a darkened garage and Buck hears the sound of the door closing behind them, trapping him, it’s like that devil puts its hands around its throat and squeezes. 
He hears the sound of keys pulling out of the ignition, flinches as the dome light comes on, and he knows what’s coming next. He knows he’s out of time. Summoning all of the strength he can, Buck kicks off the door, trying to sit up, trying to wake up so he can fight back. It’s like he’s in a dream, begging himself to remember how to run. His legs know the motions, but they have no power. He’s pedaling furiously on a bike that’s missing its chain and he can’t go anywhere. 
The door behind his head opens and Buck droops, his shoulders falling and hanging out the door. “Hey there, honey,” his captor says, smiling wide. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”
The man pats Buck’s cheek and as Buck shies away from the touch, his expression sours and he grabs Buck’s hair and drags him out of the truck. 
“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. I asked you if you missed me.”
Buck’s head is spinning. His tailbone hit the cement floor of the garage hard and his head feels like the hair is being ripped from his scalp. He reaches up to try and wrench himself free, but his hands are batted away easily. “Fuck you,” he grinds out. 
His hair is pulled again, lifting him off the floor this time and Buck howls.
“Well that’s not the answer I was looking for, honey. You want to try again?”
“Motherfucker,” Buck replies. There’s a part of him that wants to beg. He wants to cry and scream and promise to do anything if he gets to live, but Buck knows, even in his dizzy, drugged state that this man is going to kill him. The only real variable is how much it’s going to hurt. 
The man lets go of his hair to grab Buck under his arms and starts carrying him through the garage and fuck he’s strong. Huge and muscled like a barbarian. He shifts Buck’s dead weight with ease. Might be able to do it even if Buck was at full strength. 
“Now, that’s not very nice. I thought you were going to be sweet. You looked so sweet the first time I saw you. At that other little bar you like.” Somehow that’s the thing that makes Buck whimper. The knowledge that this man has been watching him. For god knows how long. “But that’s okay. I can teach you how to be sweet to me.”
He hoists Buck like he’s a child throwing a tantrum, hauling him through the door into a dim and quiet house. Buck knocks into every doorway they pass, reaching out futilely with numb fingers to try and grab on, doing nothing more than earning bruises for his trouble as the man slams him against every surface Buck tries to grab. He’s never felt this helpless. Not even as a child crying in his bedroom. 
It’s hopeless, but Buck kicks anyway and he thinks he feels stronger, whether his body is metabolizing whatever he was given or just overcoming it with adrenaline he doesn’t know. It’s still not enough to save him. His captor drops him as they reach a staircase and grabs Buck by his ankles. 
“This is what happens when you aren’t sweet. When you flail around and try to make me fall while I’m carrying you.” 
Every stair knocks a groan from him. Buck’s drawn down them deliberately slowly so that he lands on each step like a blow. His back is a mess. His head bashes against the landing. He tries to turn, tries to stop, but the fall is inexorable. 
“Stop,” he says. “Fucking stop.” 
Buck’s dragged to the middle of the basement, sliding easily on cool tiles and he knows better than to be relieved when he stops moving. Right beside a massive steamer trunk. It’s wooden with antique silver hinges and locks and a curved top like a treasure chest and when the lid opens, Buck finally begs. 
“No. No, no, no, please. I’ll be- I’ll- Please.”
A low chuckle comes from above him. “You’ll be what?” 
Managing to roll onto his stomach, Buck’s fingers dig at the tile, trying to pull himself forward. He should know it’s not going to work, but his brain isn’t working anymore. It’s only his instincts screaming run run run run away away away.
That hand seizes his hair again and it’s new and sharp on top of the lingering soreness from before and Buck makes a pained, pitiful sound. 
“Will you be sweet to me, honey?” 
Hating himself, Buck nods.
“Yeah you will. I know you will.” Lowering Buck’s head back down, the man pets him, his fingers carding gently through his hair, soothing the ache he left behind in a tender way that makes Buck shudder. “But I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
Leather cuffs lock into place around his wrists and Buck lashes out as hard as he can, harder now but still not hard enough, still not fast enough. There are cuffs on his ankles and they’re attached by chains to his wrists and as he’s begging, a silicone bar is wedged between his teeth and fastened roughly behind his head. 
It’s the preparation more than anything that tips Buck from fear into near-hysterical terror. The watching. The planning. He can’t move and he can’t fight and man making little satisfied noises as he checks those too-tight restraints has been waiting for this moment. The sound that Buck makes when he’s lifted by those chains into the air is like nothing so much as the desperate wail of an animal caught in a trap. 
He struggles as he’s lowered into the trunk, bent and folded and contorted until his knees are pressed to his chest and he’s confined, completely, in the too-small box.
“Please,” he whimpers again around the gag in his mouth and the man pets his head again.
“I’ll come back for you, honey, I promise. In a few hours.” His hand trails for the first time down Buck’s side, over his bruised ribs, his hips, his thigh, and Buck trembles. “And when I ask you if you missed me. This time you’re going to say yes.” 
Buck yowls as the lid closes, thrashing against his restraints and against the wooden walls of the trunk, and as he hears a lock click into place, he thinks his heart might beat out of his chest. 
It hammers hard enough to mask the sound of the light turning off, of boots on the stairs. Buck’s left alone in pitch blackness and he can’t move, can’t breathe, he’s going to give himself a heart attack. Around the gag, he’s still managing to hyperventilate, going lightheaded and tingly. He knows he has to calm down. He has to think, but it seems impossible. Buck sucks in breath after breath until he’s on the verge of passing out. 
His pocket buzzes. 
Over-sensitive, on the edge of cracking in two, Buck almost sobs at the unexpected feeling. His phone is pinched between his thigh and the bottom of the trunk and he completely forgot it was there. He can’t believe it’s still there. That it wasn’t taken from him. Stretching against the cuffs on his wrists, he strains toward his pocket, but he can’t get his fingers any further than the outside of his hips. Frantically, he shifts back and forth in the box, trying to work the phone out of his jeans but he can’t lift up enough to press the edge of it against the floor and the call goes to voicemail. 
When it rings again, Buck doesn’t bother trying to reach it. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the vibration. What it means. Someone is looking for him. 
Buck has no idea how long it’s been since he was taken from the bar, but he knows that Eddie would have noticed immediately. He’d have alerted Chimney and Albert and all of them together would call for help. Athena would put out an alert. He’ll be a priority. He- Maddie will burn the city down looking for him and Eddie will find her the gasoline so Buck owes it to them to get it together. To stay alive. 
In and out, Buck breathes through his nose, calming down. The man told him he had hours. Buck knows he can’t trust that and he has no way of telling time anyway, but he does know that the person who has him wants him to suffer. He wants Buck going crazy alone in the dark and for that he’ll have to leave him for at least a little while. 
That time is going to be his biggest ally. Every minute that passes, Buck can feel a little more life coming back into his limbs. He thinks, if he could stand, he could walk now. He might not be able to hold his own in a fight, but he doesn’t have to. He just has to take it one step at a time. Start where he is. 
The trunk is an antique. As he takes more slow, purposeful breaths, Buck can smell the age of it. He imagines an evil grandmother passing it down to an evil grandson and the vision is ridiculous but it makes him angry instead of afraid so he uses it. There’s a little room--not next to him; Buck’s knees are wedged against one wall and his back against the other--but above him, the curved lid stretches up tall. He draws in his breath as deeply as he can, pulling his knees in even closer to his chest to give himself half an inch of space. Then Buck rocks hard, swinging his knees to the left, trying to roll. When he falls back, his knees are propped just a little higher on the wall so he takes a breath and does it again. 
Again and again Buck jerks his body around until he’s lying on his back instead of on his side. It takes everything he has and once he gets there, he drops his head back, just breathing, deep wet breaths around the bar in his mouth. His jaw is aching. His chest is aching. He can still feel every stair imprint along his spine, but he breathes. Buck’s hands are pinned beneath him. He can get one or the other on the outside of his hip but not both at once and they’ll go from tingling to numb pretty quickly. 
His knees are pulled up above him. With his ankles attached to his wrists, Buck’s knees are splayed in a position he absolutely does not want to be found in and he brings them together and tight to his chest the way he’d hold them during yoga before he can start to panic about it. 
The phone buzzes again and he uses the sound to ground himself. They’re looking. Everyone is looking. Buck doesn’t know if they’re expecting him to answer the phone or if they’re expecting his captor to answer it or if they’re walking past dumpsters and listening for the sound of it ringing, but he hopes they never stop. Even if it gets him caught. He hopes it doesn’t stop.
Once he has his breath back, Buck starts reaching out with his legs to see where and how he can put pressure on the box. Not the lid. It hurts too much to put the pressure he needs on his shoulders to raise his legs and even when he forces through it, his wrists only lift far enough to let him get his toes on it. Not enough. Buck can get his feet flat against the end of the trunk though. He can scoot a little bit in the box to give himself leverage and he can kick-
Fuck, it’s going to hurt. The chains between his hands and feet are too short to allow him to extend his legs like he needs to and even a test kick pulls sharply on his elbows and shoulders. Buck breathes deeply. He waits. Then when his phone buzzes in his pocket, Buck kicks as hard as he can against the side of the trunk. 
He’s surprisingly grateful for the gag and the way it muffles his scream. Pain rattles down his arms and he kicks again before it has time to settle in. The wood shakes under his feet. It’s old. Antique. A gift from an evil grandmother. Buck smashes it over and over again. Something gives in his left elbow and he yells and kicks harder and harder until his foot splinters straight through the wood. The fragments grab onto his shoe as he pulls it back into the box to kick again. And again. And then the side is open. 
Buck struggles through it, wriggling forward until he can get his feet on the ground outside the trunk. Once they’re planted, he drags the upper half of his body out and the wooden daggers pull up his shirt and and carve up his back but he gets a breath of cool air and it’s worth it, it’s so worth it. 
He lies on the floor, panting for a minute and when his phone buzzes again, Buck feels like he’s earned it. I did it, he imagines saying. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.
He’s halfway up the stairs, head tipped back against the wall, trying to catch his breath and push back the pain that’s making his head swim when it happens. There’s a pounding on the door, a shout of “LAPD”, and then the shattering of wood that’s louder than what Buck just did in the basement followed by a gruff yell.
“Mark Valentine. We have a warrant for your arrest. Get your ass on the ground and your hands behind your head.” 
Athena yells other things, but Buck doesn’t hear them. Relief rings in his ears, makes him sway on the stairs and then there are footsteps in the hall. Doors to upstairs rooms are slammed open and then a thunderous voice shouts his name. 
A matching shout rips from Buck’s throat; it’s muffled and wet with tears but Buck is never not going to answer when Eddie calls. He levers himself up another stair, then another, calling again, and when the door bangs open against the wall, he’s nearly on the landing. 
“Buck.” The sound of his name on Eddie’s lips, desperate, terrified, relieved, makes Buck sob. He tries so hard to stand that he nearly falls and Eddie throws himself in the way to catch him. 
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 
Eddie clutches him tight and pulls Buck into his lap in the landing like he’ll never let go. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest and Buck’s hands are numb behind his back and he can’t snuggle in close enough. He can’t fall into that feeling of safesafesafe and so he cries, whining embarrassingly into Eddie’s neck. 
“I got him!” Eddie shouts, turning his head so he’s not yelling right into Buck’s ear. “Shh, shh, shh. I know. I got you.” He fights with the latch on the back of Buck’s head until the gag loosens and he throws it to the floor. It hurts and Buck whines before breathing, “Eddie.”
“Right here. I’m right here, Buck.” Eddie’s voice is thick too and when he puts his hands on Buck’s cheeks to lift his gaze up, his eyes are rimmed with red. Like he can’t help it, he kisses Buck’s forehead, his cheeks, his temple and tears slip from the corners of Buck’s eyes for the first time since the bar.
As Eddie holds him, he’s also trying to fiddle with the cuffs on Buck’s wrists, but he quickly finds that they’re locked, “Shit. Buck. I have to move you. I know,” he says as Buck protests, leaning forward, reaching ineffectually with his bound hands. “I have to get my shears,” Eddie kisses Buck’s head again as he shifts them. “I’ve still got you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere.” 
A quick zip of the medical bag that Buck hadn’t even realized Eddie was carrying and heavy duty trauma shears are cutting through his (no. god not his never his) the leather cuffs. Eddie keeps up a litany of soothing murmuring as he goes and as each limb is freed, Buck uses the restored range of motion to cling to Eddie, grabbing his shirt and clinging on, planning to never let go. Once the last bit of leather drops away from Buck’s ankle, Eddie declares similar intentions, gathering Buck close again.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice and his hands shaking like he doesn’t quite believe it. 
“I know,” Buck answers. “I know you do. I knew you would.”
There will be questions later. Someone will pull them apart, pull them out of this house, and demand a recounting of every terrible second. Buck will ask how they found him, how Eddie talked his way into the house with the police, who Mark Valentine really is. Who kept calling him and why.
But for now there’s just this. Held safe in Eddie’s arms. Never ever letting go.
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hopeintheashes · a day ago
If it isn’t taken, how about 36 for the touch prompts?
Buddie please with Buck doing the lifting if possible.
Thanks for the ask! I decided to go for Christmas fluffiness. :-)
36. lifting the other one up. Read it here or on AO3.
Also it turns out there were two more Touch prompts in my inbox that hadn't made it into Scrivener, so there will actually be 10 of these, total! (The call for these prompts are closed, but feel free to send soft fall prompts through the end of October!)
"The ladder, Buck, I own a ladder—"
"Nah, we totally got this—"
They'd used a ladder to put up the Christmas lights; it's not like it would be that hard to get it back out again. Or to just wait and deal with it when they get back. But no, the section that had come off of its hook had been spotted, after they'd already locked the door behind them on their way to go get a tree, and both Buck and Chris were insisting they just fix it now.
"You can lift me up!" Chris keeps saying, but it looks just out of reach for that, so Buck had said, "I can lift your dad up," and here they are.
"This is a bad idea," he says, but he stands still anyway and lets Buck crouch down so he can sit on his shoulders. He desperately hopes that no one's watching from across the street. Or filming. Oh God.
"Chris, if I fall and knock us both out, you're gonna be the one calling 911," he warns.
"Better give me your phone, then," Chris says, a hint of mischief in his smile, and he's about to rethink this whole thing when Buck hands Chris his phone, says, "Ready?" and then barely waits for Eddie to start saying, "Yeah, I guess so—" before he stands up with an overdramatic groan.
It's— well, he'd be lying if he said it was all bad, Buck under him like that, impossibly strong, but that line of thinking is cut off real quick when he hears Chris laughing and sees the phone camera pointing his way.
"I've been betrayed," he says, all theatrical, and Buck squeezes his thigh and says, "If you're gonna do it, do it," so he does. And yeah, it only takes a minute, and getting the ladder out would've been a whole thing,and everything about this is warmth and strength and light.
"Okay, let me down," he says, and there's not really a graceful way to make that happen, and by the time he's down and recovered Buck has the phone back in his hands and is tapping the screen in a very definitive way, and then he and Chris are giggling together like they have the best secret in the world.
"If you put that on the internet, I swear to God—"
His phone chimes from his back pocket.
"Not the internet," Buck says, pure innocence. Then, the laughter breaking through, "Just the group chat."
Eddie throws up his hands in mock despair, and Buck catches them, and kisses him on the lips.
"Let's gooo!" Chris, rolling his eyes as always at the PDA.
Eddie takes Buck's hand with one of his, and rests the other on Chris's back. "Okay. Let's go."
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witchbuck · 3 hours ago
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from friends to this by sirencalls explicit ♡ 1.7k ♡ buddie
“No, Eddie, I’m not—I’m not in pain.” Buck stares down into his beer bottle and ignores the way that if he grinds his hips back just right, the plug pushes against his prostate. “Everything is fine.”
“See, I don’t believe you.” Eddie puts his bottle down on the coffee table and shifts closer into Buck’s space, which is saying something because they already sit so close, and Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder, caging him in against the couch. “Buck. Whatever is happening, you can tell me.”
“No, I really can’t.”
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rewritetheending · 2 days ago
"He feels it, although he’s pretty sure it’s more a memory than a threat at this point. It’s something of an itch, though whether it’s truly a physical sensation, he hasn’t decided. It begs for attention, but he continues to brush it aside, all his focus on the boy in his arms, an act of both love and self-preservation.
Because while Buck doesn’t know what it is, he’s convinced it will break him when he figures it out."
Set during 4x14, after Buck tells Christopher about the shooting - a peek at why Buck might have had a second breakdown that night. This is entirely the fault of @oatflatwhite, @evcndiaz, and @fleurdebeton for encouraging the terrible images in my head.
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maddieandchimney · 22 hours ago
I would really love a fic where Maddie is singing to Jee-Yun, either to make her sleep, or for comfort. (I know you did a similar thing in one of your AU's), but this is a CANON! Maybe she can even be a little older (toddler age). I have this image of her always singing her the same song throughout the years to calm her down. 🥺
It doesn’t feel as though everything is going to be okay again until he hears Maddie singing for the first time since she came home. The sound of her voice gives him reason to pause, lingering outside their half closed bedroom door as he takes a breath, closing his eyes to the sound of her singing to their daughter. Maddie has been home for a few weeks and every single day, he’s watched her finally start to feel as though she’s home. Her laugh is louder, her eyes are brighter, her smile is wider, the tension between them has eased as they fall into a new routine now that Jee is older.
“To you everything’s funny, you got nothing to regret. I’d give all I have, honey, if you could stay like that.” Chimney rests his forehead against the wall, his smile growing with every lyric she sings, imagining her holding their almost one year old daughter close to her chest as she does. It’s been beautiful to get the chance to watch them both get to know each other again, every single second that she has been home has been a massive relief because for too long when he hadn’t a clue where she was, he couldn’t have imagined finding her again and making sure she was back home where she belongs. But she’s here, she’d gotten help, she had done everything in her power to make sure she could get back to her family and he’s proud of her. He’s proud of them for pushing through perhaps the darkest moment of their relationship.
But she’s home and he can hear the confidence in her voice growing with each passing second, remembering how she would sing Jee-Yun to sleep every single night when they first came home and he doesn’t remember when it stopped. He wishes he could remember when it stopped but all he knew was that they were tired and Jee had colic and sleep was hard to come by, so the singing had stopped. And he had missed it but the realisation hadn’t truly hit him until he walked into their apartment with nothing but an iPad holding her goodbye message and their little girl. Her voice is still the most beautiful sound he has ever heard, next to their daughter’s laugh and he finds himself stepping forward, slipping between the crack in the door to watch her, hoping she doesn’t notice him and stop.
He’s watched her grow in confidence since she came home and he knows that she feels guilty for leaving in the first place and then even more guilt on top of that for having to be away for months to get the help she so desperately needed. She fought so hard to come home to them and now, her voice reverberates off the walls of their bedroom and she’s holding their daughter as the little girl sleepily plays with her mother’s hair, her head resting on Maddie’s shoulder whilst she rubs her back, swaying her body ever so slightly as she continues to sing.
He wishes he could capture this image of her forever, with nothing but the glow of the night light that covers the ceiling in stars, lighting up her features as she holds their daughter as closely as she possibly can. “Oh darling, don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up, it could stay this simple.” His heart thumps against his chest with every word she sings, seeing the absolute joy on her face when Jee finally starts to settle, knowing she’s been struggling the most with the night time routine. She is smiling and he wishes he had his phone on him so he could keep this picture perfect moment for the rest of his life, knowing he’ll have to rely on his memory and the hope that this is just the first time of many.
Maddie hasn’t noticed him, too focused on singing each soft lyric to the little girl before it comes to an end and she presses a gentle kiss to the side of their little girl’s head, carefully moving towards her crib in the corner of the room to lay her down. He can’t take his eyes off her as she gently brushes her fingers over every feature of the sleeping baby’s face, as though she is memorising her and he can’t resist anymore, closing the gap between them to wrap his arms around her from behind, pressing his lips to the back of her shoulder before he nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck. He watches as she tucks Jee in, her hand resting on top of her chest to feel every rise and fall as though she’s worried that all of this will go away. And he gets that feeling more than he could ever put into words because this all feels too good to be true sometimes. Home hasn’t felt like home without her in it and now she’s here, it’s hard to believe.
“I missed you singing,” He finally admits, his voice a whisper, still wary of pushing her away or saying something that will make her feel guilty for being away in the first place. But he had missed her and Jee had missed her, too, even if sometimes she doesn’t believe that to be true.
Maddie nods and he feels her gently pushing him back before she turns in his arms, her smile widening despite the tears in her eyes when she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her fingers grazing through the back of his hair before she nudges her nose to his, “I missed singing, maybe you can join in next time instead of lurking in the doorway.” Her voice is teasing and he had missed that, too, there’s so much he had missed, things he had forgotten about because all he wanted was her here. And now she is and it’s as though he falls in love with her every single day, over and over again, happily and completely.
He grins, grazing his lips over hers for just a second before he shrugs his shoulders, “Oh, definitely, our little girl has yet to hear mommy’s and daddy’s rendition of Islands in the Stream.”
“Hmm, same time tomorrow night?”
This is the happiest he has felt in a long time, pulling her as close as he possibly can, unable to stop his smile from widening with every word that passes her lips before he nods his head, “Same time tomorrow night. And every night after.”
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capseycartwright · 2 hours ago
29. kisses in which, you've already said goodbye but can't help stealing another one
The giggle that escaped Eddie’s mouth as Buck kissed him was so gloriously uninhibited, that Buck had to kiss him again, just to hear it one more time. Eddie’s face was flushed a delicious shade of pink, and Buck couldn’t help but nuzzle his nose against the warm skin, stealing one, two, three more kisses.
“Buck,” Eddie’s voice when he was this happy was the most glorious sound on the planet, Buck had long since decided. It was light, and almost musical, the sound the only thing Buck wanted to hear on repeat for the rest of his life. It was the kind of voice, the kind of laughter, that only surfaced in these quiet moments between the two of them, or when Eddie was with Christopher, and Buck realised it was a privilege, to be privy to this relaxed, calm, happy version of Eddie Diaz.
“Buck, baby,” Eddie let out a delighted laugh, pushing gently at Buck’s shoulders. “You’ve got to go.”
Buck narrowed his eyes. “Are you kicking me out of my own house, Eddie Diaz?”
Eddie laughed, the expression, the happiness, etched into every inch of his face, Buck’s own adoration for the other man reflected back at him in Eddie’s eyes. He was perfect, in every way, and even more so like this, barefoot on the front porch, the two of them making out like teenagers at the end of their first date. “Yes,” he grinned. “I am.”
“Rude,” Buck shook his head, stealing another kiss, just because he could.
“Buck,” Eddie paused, as Buck grazed his teeth against the shower-soft skin of Eddie’s neck. “Do we need to give the neighbours a show?”
“Let them watch,” Buck hummed, because he really, really didn’t care. He was in love with Eddie Diaz - everyone could know it, and he wanted everyone to see it, to see how lucky Buck was to land a man like this; a kind, caring, selfless man who put Christopher, and Buck, and what they needed, ahead of everything else. Buck wanted people to know how lucky he was, to get to kiss this gorgeous, wonderful man at every opportunity.
“Not the time for you to discover you’ve got an exhibitionist kink, love,” Eddie said, voice soft. The front door was mostly closed, and if Buck listened carefully, he could hear Christopher’s delighted laughter, Eddie’s sisters happy to spoil their nephew, Christopher in the midst of beating Sophia senseless at the new game they’d brought him for his switch.
Buck ignored him, pressing another kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth.
“Maddie’s expecting you,” Eddie reminded, sounding a little breathless - and Buck couldn’t help but grin, because he was the one who did that, he was the person who could make tough-as-nails Eddie Diaz breathless and weak at the knees.
Buck groaned, dropping his head to Eddie’s chest, clinging to the soft material of Eddie’s sweater with an iron-tight grip. “Who’s stupid idea was it for us to spend the night before our wedding apart, again?”
“Yours,” Eddie reminded, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of Buck’s neck, warm lips pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Buck’s head. “And it’ll be nice to spend your last night as a single man with your sister, and Jee.”
Buck looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t been single in a long time,” he reminded.
“I know,” Eddie nodded. “But you’ll be married tomorrow. There’s no getting rid of me then.”
“I can’t wait to marry you,” Buck said, voice soft, and full of wonder. He’d always dreamed of getting married, but he’d wondered, a long time ago, if he was even meant for marriage; if Evan Buckley could ever be husband material. He was, apparently - Eddie had reassured him of that much when he’d gotten down on one knee and asked Buck to stay forever.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” Eddie echoed, pressing a reassuring kiss to Buck’s lips. “Go, enjoy your evening with Maddie.”
Buck nodded, hopping down the steps of their apartment. He almost made it to his car, before he turned back, jogging back to steal another kiss from a laughing Eddie, his fiance smiling so widely against Buck’s lips that it could barely be considered a kiss.
“Bye, Eddie,” Buck breathed, stumbling backwards, slightly.
The look Eddie gave him was exasperated, but fond. “Bye, Buck,” he said, waiting on the porch as Buck made his way back to the Jeep, Buck pausing to wave at Eddie. Eddie glanced over his shoulder, before he blew another kiss in Buck’s direction, Buck making a show of catching it, and holding it close to his heart.
“Don’t you dare be a minute late tomorrow, Buckley,” Eddie called, a bright look in his eyes - joy, Buck realised. Pure joy was etched across every inch of Eddie’s face, and the expression suited him.
Buck grinned, in response. “I wouldn’t dare, Diaz.”
send me a kissing prompt
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woodchoc-magnum · 9 hours ago
Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Bobby Nash, Howie "Chimney" Han, Athena Grant, Maddie Buckley, Taylor Kelly, Original Characters, Ravi Panikkar, Albert Han (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Coming Out, Drama, Mutual Pining, Firehouse 118 Crew as Family (9-1-1 TV), Supportive Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV), Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Light Evan "Buck" Buckley/Taylor Kelly, Break Up, Worried Eddie Diaz, Protective Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Eddie Diaz, Panic Attacks, Jealous Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bisexual Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), First Kiss Summary:
Set post-Season 5, Episode 4 and 5 - in which Buck and Taylor's relationship is slowly crumbling, Eddie has some big realisations about his sexuality, and true feelings are revealed.
Chapter 2 is up!
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tenisperfection · 2 days ago
Drabble for Eddie begins (3 x 15) and What’s next? (3 x 18): pre-relationship Buck x Eddie
Eddie does it at 9 am on a Wednesday when he’s off work.
It’s a day unremarkable by all means. He wakes up, gets Christopher ready for school, they have toast with cream cheese and everything bagel seasoning on it because they’re both going through a phase and they like experimenting with their toast toppings. He then drives Christopher to school, grabs coffee from a café on the way, and sits in his car outside the law offices, coffee cup in hand. It’s 8:49, the buzz of traffic and smell of strong coffee surrounding him. This wasn’t what Texas had been like, growing up, and it definitely wasn’t what Afghanistan was like. Or maybe they were, and Eddie was just not in the right place to see them, to take in everything that a place can offer. But he’s here now, in warm and sunny Los Angeles, coffee cup in hand and a life decision ready to make.
“Mr. Diaz, come on in, how’re you?”
“Eddie, please, I’m—,” Eddie pauses. He’s fine. He was buried under forty feet of mud four weeks ago, but he’s–fine. He’s fine.
Or at the very fucking least, he will be when he walks out of this office.
“I’m fine, how are you?” he asks, dropping into the chair Shelley waves him towards. 
“Can’t complain. Now you mentioned on the phone that you wanted to discuss your will?”
“Yes,” Eddie says, and clears his throat, hoping to dissipate the bundle of nerves stuck in it. It isn’t doubt that Eddie feels; on the other hand, his throat feels tight for an entirely different reason, out of the overwhelming feeling that this is the right thing to do. That this is how it’s supposed to be, that things are finally beginning to, if not fall into place, at least recognize the place they’re meant to one day fall into.
This, however, is not the time to unpack all of that. Not today. Today is for this, for Christopher. It’s for doing the right thing.
“I’d like to make a change to Christopher’s legal guardianship,” Eddie says, and Shelley nods.
Eddie continues.
Eddie can’t think. Eddie can’t stop thinking. 
He gets the description of her fiancé—Sam, his mind later fills in—from Abby as Buck stands next to him, frozen. They make their way towards the derailed train, and Buck says nothing, so Eddie says nothing.
Eddie tries not to hear Sam struggling as he talks about his kids and Abby, and he tries not to think about Christopher and how it would be if he was in Sam’s place, like he’s been before. He definitely doesn’t think about a safe in his bedroom closet that contains a piece of paper.
“His fiancée’s Abby,” Eddie spits out later to Bobby, bile rising up in him much like the fear that’s always just out of reach these days. 
You can’t risk your life like this for someone who left you waiting the way she did, Eddie wants to scream. You have people to think about. Your family here, the one you chose. You have Maddie. You have me and Chris. 
Except, Eddie can’t say that last part. So he breaks up the fight, gets Bobby and Buck moving. Buck ends up winning the argument, and Eddie has to grit his teeth so he doesn’t unravel as Buck moves precariously on the outside of the train, an ominous vertical spectre in the night sky. Eddie can’t let the fear take over, he won’t. There are lives at stake, and Eddie’s nothing if not professional. 
Later, much later, after what feels like several lifetimes, they have Sam safely back with Abby, and as he watches Buck watch Abby and Sam ride off in the ambulance,  Eddie can’t say anything except, “You okay?” He knows Buck isn’t, but that’s okay. Eddie will be there, even if he can’t change anything else, can’t bring Abby back in the way Buck might want her back. 
“What’s next?” Buck says gruffly as he makes his way back towards the derailed train, the mess that’s in front of them.
His mind inevitably flitting to the safe in his closet and to the piece of paper in it, Eddie follows.
At May’s graduation party, Buck seems alright, all things considered. Great, even. He dances with everyone and makes silly faces with them in the photo booth. He sticks to Eddie and Christopher when he’s done going around the party, like they’re the people he’s meant to be with at the end of the day. Like they’re who he comes home to.
When Eddie bundles Christopher up in the truck and drives them home at the end of the night, Eddie’s not surprised to see Buck follow behind in his jeep. Christopher’s on a sugar high, so they let him stay up for one round of Mario Kart, Buck winning by the smallest of margins. 
Eddie watches Buck cheer, throwing taunts at Eddie with his warm, mischievous, glowing eyes trained on a laughing Christopher. Again, Eddie feels the invisible tug from the piece of paper, now only a few feet away from them, from whatever they’re building out of rubble and collapsing buildings and firetrucks swept away in a wave, assembling them piece by piece.
I think I won, Eddie thinks, and carries the warmth of the night with him as he challenges Buck to a rematch.
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hmslusitania · 26 days ago
in which, Eddie and Chris actually talk to each other and our boy does not pull punches. technically speculation for 5x03
“Hey, can we talk for a second?”
Chris looks up from his book, the camp light beside him throwing weird shadows across his face that make him look so much older than eleven. If Eddie thinks about that too hard, it’s going to break him.
Break him more.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.
“Nothing’s—” But that’s just not true, is it. Eddie sighs and sits down on the foot of Chris’s bed. “It’s about Ana.”
Chris just stares at him, waiting for Eddie to continue.
“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie starts, slow while he tries to put the words together in a way that’ll make sense to an eleven-year-old. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I have to break up with her.”
He braces himself for the explosion, the broken salad bowl all over again, the running away.
He doesn’t know what to do with himself when Chris’s response is a level, even, “Oh. Okay.”
He keeps talking before he’s really processed Chris’s non-reaction, because it had taken him so long to get the words right in his own head.
“Because I don’t love her, and I don’t think I’m ever going to, and it’s not fair to her to do that to her. And I know you’ve liked having her around, and that you like spending time with her, and if you want to be friends with her, that’s—you—what do you mean ‘okay’?”
Chris shrugs.
“No, no shrugging,” Eddie says. He squeezes Chris’s foot under the bedsheet and gets the tiniest hint of a grin in response. It fades just as quickly. “What do you mean ‘okay’? I thought you liked Ana.”
“She was my favourite teacher,” Chris confirms. “And it’s been nice having her around sometimes since I didn’t get to see any of my friends during quarantine.”
The unsaid “but” echoes in Chris’s bedroom. Eddie waits for him to say it, and when he doesn’t, he squeezes Christopher’s foot again.
“But?” Eddie prompts.
Chris shrugs again.
“I didn’t want to say anything because she’s nice and I thought you liked having her around,” Christopher says, completely avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “But sometimes, some of the stuff she says reminds me of Grandma.”
Before Eddie can even begin to process the instant bile that goes along with the “oh god I’ve been dating my mother” of it all, Chris continues.
“And I love Grandma! And I know she loves me! But, I don’t know, sometimes it feels like she thinks I can’t do anything,” he says. “And sometimes it feels like that with Ana too.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know how successful he is at choking down his horror. He hasn’t been very good at swallowing back any emotions these days.
“Because I thought you liked her,” Chris says. “And I want you to be happy, Dad.”
“I thought me dating her made you happy,” Eddie replies.
“It doesn’t make me unhappy,” Chris says, which is at least something of a relief. “But I don’t understand why you can’t date someone who makes both of us happy. Like Buck.”
Eddie’s pretty sure he’s going to need 5-7 business days to recover from this conversation.
“Buck dating Taylor makes you happy?” Eddie asks.
Chris rolls his eyes and looks so much like a teenager, Eddie kind of wants to run and find a way to time travel so he can make his kid be a little kid again.
It would get him out of this conversation at least.
“No,” Chris says. “I mean, you could date someone who makes you happy and makes me happy. Someone like Buck.”
Eddie doesn’t know how long he sits there, slack-jawed, but it’s long enough Christopher has to lean over and tap him on the shoulder to break him out of it.
“Buddy, that’s not — Buck and I aren’t — I’m not—”
“It would be okay if you were,” Chris says, and if Eddie has to hear an entire it’s okay to be gay speech from his child, he might have to check himself back into the cardiology ward. “And I always like having Buck around, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that part.”
It feels a little like his life flashing before his eyes.
Dropping Christopher off at Buck’s loft before the tsunami.
After, telling him there’s no one in the world Eddie trusts more with his son.
This is my kind of therapy.
Putting Buck in the will.
This is what I want for him.
All the time Buck had spent with Christopher while Eddie was recovering. Hell, all the time he’d spent with Eddie.
Of course he can’t handle a pre-fab, just-add-water, ready-made family with Ana. How the hell is she supposed to fit when he’s already built an entire family, a real one, an unbreakable one, with Buck?
“Too bad he has a girlfriend,” Chris says, and there’s something just a little teasing about it, like he might have noticed the disgust on Eddie’s face when he mentioned Buck and Taylor.
“Yeah, well, right now so do I,” Eddie replies, and when Chris grins at him, Eddie thinks that he might, somehow, have just followed all of Eddie’s internal processing. Or, at least, the broad strokes of it. “One problem at a time, okay?”
And now, he’s just got to rip the bandaid off. That part, at least, should be easy.
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littlespooneven · 21 days ago
I've been thinking a lot about a scene Eddie calling Chris "our son" while talking with Buck or Chris calling Buck dad I want it to happen so bad Ciara! Do you think, maybe, if you're up for it, u can write something tiny??? It's okay if you can't! I love your writings so much! always feel like you get the essence of these characters!
anon, i'm so glad i saved your message until after 5x02 bc ooh boy does that ep make this even more meaningful!!! apologies for the delay but i really hope you like it! :')
“Our son is insisting he can’t turn the light off until he says goodnight to you again,” Eddie says, coming back into the living room. He rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop the feeling of warmth that spreads through his chest when he thinks about Christopher’s wide eyes and not-so-innocent smile as he’d asked to talk to Buck one last time.
He drops back down into his spot on the couch, reaching for his beer and raising an eyebrow when Buck stays sat there, completely frozen.
“What’s wrong?” he frowns.
Buck blinks, seeming to rouse himself out of whatever daze he’s in and gives Eddie a wary look. “You just said ‘our son’.”
A ‘yeah, so?’is on the tip of Eddie’s tongue until his brain catches up with him and all of his thoughts promptly come to a screeching halt. Holy shit. Holy shit, he just called Christopher theirs. His mouth parts but nothing comes out and he stares at Buck as if he’ll somehow be able to explain how easily the words rolled off his tongue.
Buck bites the inside of his cheek, watching him anxiously before abruptly standing up from his seat. “I’m gonna say goodnight to him,” he says tentatively, like he’s afraid Eddie might kick him out instead. “I’ll uh- I’ll be right back.”
With that, he’s gone and Eddie listens to the sound of his socked feet padding down the hall, listens to the creak of Christopher’s bedroom door as Buck opens it again, listens to the soft hum of their voices and imagines Buck tucking Christopher in, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead like he always does.
It’s a lot to digest at 9 o’clock on a Friday evening.
There is one thing though, one thing that’s surprisingly absent. Panic.
His hands aren’t trembling, his chest doesn’t feel tight, he’s breathing normally. He’s overwhelmed but he doesn’t think it’s for the same reasons as before.
Buck is back before he’s had a chance to come back to himself, sitting a careful distance away from Eddie on the couch. He’s watching him with a guarded sort of concentration, as if he’s looking for the signs of a panic attack he’d picked up on so easily before.
Finally, Eddie wets his lip, takes a breath and turns to him. “Why doesn’t that scare me?”
Buck starts, clearly not expecting a question. “What?”
“I- Buck, a store clerk called Ana Chris’ mom and I had to be rushed to hospital because I thought I was having a heart attack but I just said-“ he cuts off, brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of what he wants to say.
“It was a slip of the tongue, Eds. It’s not a big deal,” Buck tells him quietly but Eddie can see it hurts him to say it. The way his expression dims slightly, the slight downturn of his mouth, the resignation in his eyes.
And that’s not right either.
“No, but-“ He shakes his head, forcing himself to meet Buck’s eyes. “I already chose you,” he says lowly. “With the will, I chose you because- because you love him like I do and you hug him the same way I do and- and you took care of him when I was in hospital and nobody questioned that. You know his routine and you help him with his homework even if he’s better at math than both of us combined and you take him to the zoo and-“
He looks at Buck, feeling realisation crash over him in waves as Buck’s throat bobs and he seems to swallow down whatever emotion he’s trying not show on his face.
“I already chose you,” Eddie repeats – half a question, half a realisation because- “It wasn’t about the act of Shannon being replaced or not being ready for a new family. It was because I didn’t want that with Ana.”
It was because I wanted it with you.
Buck inhales a sharp intake of breath and the brief jerk of his head gives Eddie a quick view of the glassiness behind his eyes. “Is this- are you-“
He can’t seem to find the end of his question but Eddie nods anyway, shuffling a few inches closer until their knees bump. “Buck, you’ve supported me from the moment you met Chris. You’ve been my partner outside of work almost as long as you have inwork. I trust you with him so much I put it in writing. I’d be kidding myself if I said we weren’t raising him together by now.”
Buck’s expression breaks out into a brilliant, disbelieving smile almost at the exact same moment his tears finally spill over and Eddie doesn’t think about it when he pulls him in. It strikes him as he does it that it’s probably presumptuous to kiss Buck. All of this – even if Buck wants to consider Christopher his kid – it doesn’t mean Buck wants him.
But then their lips are meeting and Buck’s sighing into his mouth and cupping Eddie’s jaw like he doesn’t plan on ever letting go. For all that it’s a charged kiss, it’s a chaste one too. It’s a delicate press of lips that acts as a punctuation mark to everything Eddie’s just confessed. Or a postscript, maybe.
After a beat Buck pulls away, just enough to meet Eddie’s gaze and smooth his thumb across his cheekbone. “I didn’t just choose Chris. I didn’t just do all this for him. I chose you too. I always have.”
Something syrupy and soft dissolves inside of Eddie then and with it he melts against Buck, brushing their foreheads together.
Turns out following his heart and Christopher’s is easy when they both want the same thing.
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buckactuallys · 9 days ago
feeling the ache is better than nothing at all
coda to 5x04. Eddie has a conversation with Chimney, and two with Buck.
[read on ao3]
Chim punched me.
Eddie gets the text at 8.34pm and doesn’t even reply, just closes the kitchen door behind himself after a quick glance at Christopher to make sure he’s fine in front of the TV, and calls Buck.
“Hey,” Buck answers after a few seconds, sounding resigned but mostly normal.
“What happened?” Eddie asks, and the whole story immediately spills from Buck’s lips.
How he knew what happened to Jee-Yun and why Maddie thought it would be better to leave, how he tried to stop her but couldn’t, how she wouldn’t tell him where she was going and begged him not to say anything to Chimney. How he thought he could still help Chimney keep it together. And how, in all his pain, Chimney punched him in the face when he found out.
“But this isn’t about me,” Buck finishes, and Eddie bites his lip, wonders if his face looks as fond as he feels.
“It’s a little bit about you, Buck.”
“Eddie. I’m worried about him.”
Buck told Eddie last week how Chimney reacted to Maddie leaving, how he convinced himself that someone was forcing Maddie to leave. Buck’s been worried about Chimney for eight days, and so has Eddie, but this is a new level. Chimney’s not a violent man, but Eddie knows what it’s like when you feel so helpless that punching someone feels like the only way to regain some control.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Me too. How’s your face? Where’d he get you, did it bleed?”
“No, he socked me clean in the eye. I think it’s just gonna bruise.”
“Any dizziness? Blurry vision?”
“I’m fine, Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie can hear the eye roll in his voice. He wonders if that hurts, too.
“I could come over and check it over for you,” he offers anyway.
“You don’t have to,” Buck says softly, and Eddie suddenly imagines Taylor there with Buck, pressing an ice pack to his face, cradling his face as she does so. It makes something deep inside him ache. “It’s almost Christopher’s bedtime, and I’m fine, really.”
“Okay,” Eddie relents. “Did you ice it? Is Taylor there to keep an eye on you?”
“No, she’s not,” Buck says, and doesn’t offer an explanation. “But I can ice it myself.”
“Make sure you do. And I’ll come over tomorrow when Christopher is at school to check on you.”
Buck laughs. “Chimney was angry, but he didn’t hit me that hard. Stop worrying, I don’t have a head trauma. But you can come over tomorrow, bring something for lunch?”
“Okay,” Eddie says. “I’ll swing by that Thai place you love.”
Buck hums. “You spoil me.”
Eddie flushes bright red, grateful they’re on the phone and not on FaceTime, and clears his throat. “It’s on my way anyway.”
They’re quiet for a few moments, and then Eddie asks, “Hey, are you…are you mad at Chimney?”
“No,” Buck says. “No, I’m not. I’m worried about him, but I get…I get why he did it. I was so angry at him for not telling me about Daniel, and now I did the same thing to him.”
“Because you promised Maddie.”
“Yeah,” Buck sighs, and he still sounds guilt ridden. “I don’t know what to do. I want to help him, but I don’t think he wants help from me right now.”
“Let me talk to him,” Eddie suggests. “I’ve been meaning to call him anyway.”
“Okay, thanks,” Buck says, hesitating before he adds, “How are you? Your texts earlier were…well, you didn’t say much, but that must’ve been rough.”
“I think Hen took it harder,” Eddie deflects, then decides to go for half-truths so Buck will stop worrying. “It’s always hard when it’s kids, and it wasn’t made easier by the mix-up. Watching their parents go through that...all four of them...yeah, it was rough.”
He doesn’t tell Buck about the blood on his neck, about the way he’d stared at it for too long in the mirror of the hospital bathroom, about how his hands had shaken when he’d scrubbed it off. It all hit a little bit too close to home, the best friends, the blood, the hospital. He knows it’s something they have to talk about, that they’ve been circling around it for too long, but he’s not ready. He doesn’t want to think about that day, and he wants to talk about it even less. Especially over the phone.
Buck lets him get away with it this time, just says a quiet, “I’m sorry.”
They’re silent again, and again it’s Eddie who speaks first. “I should get Christopher to bed so I can call Chimney.”
“Yeah,” Buck says. “Give him a hug from me, okay? And when you talk to Chim, can you tell him I’m sorry? I’ll tell him myself too, just...later.”
“Yeah, of course. Put some ice on that bruise, Buck, you hear me? And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” Buck says quietly. “Goodnight, Eddie. And...thanks.”
“Anytime,” Eddie replies just as quietly. “Goodnight, Buck.”
Eddie hangs up and pockets his phone, rubbing at his forehead. He still kind of wants to march over to Buck’s place and take a look at the bruise, but Buck is right, Christopher needs to go to bed and Eddie can’t leave him. He’s too old to sleep in the car and too young to stay up as long as it takes Eddie to check on Buck, and if Buck’s face is already bruising, he probably wouldn’t want Chris to see him like that anyway. Plus, Buck’s an EMT – he should be able to tell if his orbital bone is fractured, and he knows what to do with a blunt force trauma. So tomorrow will have to be enough.
He leaves the kitchen and tells Christopher it’s time for bed, which his kid thankfully accepts without much fuss tonight. Eddie lets him read a chapter of his book in bed after he’s brushed his teeth, and then kisses Christopher’s forehead.
“Goodnight, buddy,” he says, watching as Chris happily tugs his blanket up over his shoulders. “I love you.”
“Love you too, dad.”
Eddie kisses his temple once more before straightening up and backing out of the door, pulling it shut behind himself.
He goes back to the kitchen, door closed so he won’t disturb Christopher, and sits down at the kitchen table to call Chimney.
“Did Buck tell you?” Chimney answers the phone, and Eddie has never heard his voice sound the way it does right now. Frantic, almost.
“I talked to him, yeah,” he says carefully, and Chimney starts talking before he’s even finished.
“I really don’t have time for a lecture right now, Eddie. I know I shouldn’t have punched him and I don’t really know what happened, but he knew, and he didn’t tell me–”
“Chimney,” Eddie interrupts. “Chim. I’m not calling to tell you how wrong it is to punch someone. I think you know, and it would be kind of hypocritical of me, don’t you think?”
Chimney doesn’t laugh, but Eddie pushes on. “Buck isn’t even mad at you. We’re just worried.”
Eddie can hear Jee-Yun crying in the background, and Chimney snaps, “Well, great, but that doesn’t help me either. I can’t do this right now.”
He hangs up on Eddie, and Eddie stays sitting at the kitchen table, feeling exhausted. He’s so tired of constantly having to go through drama and hardships, of watching the people he loves do the same. When will they just...get to be happy?
Chimney clearly needs help and support right now, and Eddie wants to give him that. Buck told him to bring lunch, so Eddie figures he’s got plenty of time in between dropping Christopher off at school and going to Buck’s place to see Chimney.
In the morning, Eddie takes Christopher to school and then heads over to Maddie and Chimney’s place.
When Chimney opens the door, he looks a lot better than he sounded on the phone last night, but still tired and jittery.
“I guess I should've expected this,” he says instead of hello.
“Can I come in?” Eddie asks.
Chimney opens the door a little wider. “I don’t have a lot of time, but sure.”
There are bags by the door, and Jee-Yun’s stroller, and it’s obvious that Chimney’s in the middle of packing. “Sorry to barge in here unannounced.”
“Are you here about Buck?”
“Um, no,” Eddie says, following Chimney to the kitchen, where he starts putting stuff from the fridge into an insulated bag. “I’m here about you. I talked to Buck yesterday and he told me what happened – we were both worried about you, so I thought I’d come by and see how you were.”
“Not great,” Chimney says drily. “If he’s so worried, why didn’t he tell me he knew why Maddie left?”
“Because she’s his sister.” Eddie sighs. “You know how they are, Chim. I think it was them against the world for so long, they still sometimes forget to let other people in. Maddie begged Buck not to say anything, I think he was trying to do right by both of you.”
Chimney doesn’t turn around, but his voice sounds choked when he asks, “Why would she ask him to keep it from me?”
Eddie wants to reach out, offer some comfort, but Chimney still hasn’t turned around.
“I’m not Maddie,” he starts, “but I know what it’s like when you feel like you’re a bad parent. When you think leaving is the best thing you can do. I think...maybe she feels ashamed, and that’s why she didn’t want you to know. You’ll find her, and then you can ask her. But remember that this doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you and Jee-Yun.”
“I know,” Chimney says quietly, finally turning around. His eyes are red-rimmed. “I know she loves us. I just...I wish I’d checked in more, I wish–”
“It’s not your fault either. It’s the PPD messing with her head, I don’t think there’s a lot you could’ve done differently under the circumstances.”
Chimney is quiet for a while, and then he says, “I thought you were here to chew me out for punching Buck.”
“I think you’re doing a good enough job of that yourself. Besides, I happen to know what it’s like to feel so helpless and out of control that lashing out seems like the only way to regain some of it. So does Buck, by the way.”
“I just wish he’d told me. He saw the hell I was going through – Maddie told him to make sure we were okay, but he saw that we weren’t, he knew–” Chimney’s voice breaks and he sucks in a shuddering breath. Eddie reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.
“He thought he was doing the right thing,” he says softly. “I think...Chimney, I think you and Buck have very different perceptions of Maddie. She’s his big sister, she’s always seemed so strong to him, I think that’s why he believed her when she said she needed time, and to take care of things herself. I don’t know what’s right for Maddie, but if you think she needs your help, then I believe you.”
He’s not Maddie, but Eddie can relate to always being the strong one, the protector. And if he’s really honest with himself, maybe it’d be nice to have someone else take care of him for a change.
“Okay.” Chimney swallows audibly. “Okay, thank you Eddie.”
“Of course.”
“I’m still mad at him,” Chimney admits. “At Buck. I shouldn’t have punched him, but I...I’m just so angry.”
“I understand that it’s hard to see his side right now. And Buck knows that, too.” Eddie thinks about bringing up the fact that Buck forgave Chimney for keeping the secret about Daniel, but he knows it’s not the right time. He doesn’t doubt Chimney will eventually forgive Buck, anyway. But maybe he needs to feel this anger now, he has every right to.
“Can you tell him that? That I’m angry, but I’m sorry for punching him?”
“I’ll tell him. And you’re really going after Maddie?”
“I have to,” Chimney says with conviction. “She needs me.”
“Well, I know what it feels like to be left, too, so I get the urge,” Eddie sighs. “For what it’s worth, I think this is a completely different situation than mine, because Maddie only left because her brain tricked her into thinking it would be safer for your daughter. You know you can always count on us, we’re all here for you.”
“Thank you,” Chimney says thickly. He turns to the cupboard and pulls out two glasses, filling them with water and setting one down in front of Eddie. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else? How’s working with Hen?”
“Oh, yeah, of course – it’s great. She’s really helping me find my footing. I’m not a permanent replacement for a paramedic like you, obviously, but with her help I think I can fill in for you until you get back. And I think we make a good team, after yesterday I guess we can get through anything.”
“What happened?” Chimney asks. “I haven’t really paid attention to...well, anything else.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to. But we don’t have to talk about it–”, Eddie tries, but Chimney interrupts.
“Come on, Eddie, give me 5 minutes of thinking about anything else.”
So Eddie tells him about their day, from the crash at the parade to the mix-up and what followed it, how Hen insisted on being the one to tell the parents, and Chimney lets out a low whistle when he finishes.
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect that. Maybe I should check on Hen.”
“I think she’d be pretty mad if you left town without telling her,” Eddie says, “so you should do that anyway. But she’s...okay, I think. Shaken up – that hit us both hard – but okay.”
“I’ll talk to her. Hey, Eddie – thanks. For everything.”
“Of course, man,” Eddie says. He claps Chimney on the shoulder once more. “I should get going, but...good luck. I really hope you find her and can get her the help she needs.”
“Yeah,” Chimney mumbles. “Yeah, I really hope so too.”
Eddie pulls him into a hug, and for a moment, Chimney’s hands clench in the fabric of his shirt and he presses his face to Eddie’s shoulder before he steps away again.
“I’ll see you soon, Chimney.”
Eddie leaves Chimney’s place and stops at the grocery store to pick up pain meds for Buck and a sixpack of beer, gets their usual from Buck’s favourite Thai place and then drives over to Buck’s apartment.
In the elevator, he looks at himself in the mirror, wondering if Buck will think he dressed up. Maybe he shouldn’t have put on a button up shirt? But he wants to seem put together to Buck, like he’s fully back in control. Besides, Buck wears shirts like this all the time, so he probably won’t notice. And if there’s a tiny voice in his head reminding him that he looks good in black, he’s ignoring it. That’s not why he picked this shirt.
When Buck opens his door, the skin around his left eye is a colourful canvas of red, yellow and blue-ish tones, and Eddie sucks in a breath.
“Jesus, Buck,” he says. “I thought you said he didn’t hit you that hard.”
Buck scowls. “Maybe I just bruise easily.”
“Let me take a look at it,” Eddie says, setting the bag he brought down on the kitchen island and looking around. “Light’s best outside. Come on!”
He drags a barstool outside to the balcony and waits until Buck has followed him, climbing onto the stool with a petulant expression on his face.
“You’re making too big of a deal of this,” Buck protests, and Eddie grabs his chin to turn his face so he can get a good look at the bruise.
“Did you check for fractures?”
“Yes,” Buck says. “It’s fine, no fractures, no dizziness, no blood. Just a bruise, Eds.”
“Hm.” Eddie carefully brushes his thumb over the bruised skin before he catches himself and drops his hand, taking a step back. Buck’s eyes are very blue. “Are you icing it regularly? Where’s your ice pack?”
“Uhh,” Buck makes. “I have iced it.”
His eyes wander to something behind Eddie, and Eddie turns around, immediately spotting the melting ice pack on the kitchen counter.
“Buck,” Eddie groans. “Why didn’t you put it back in the freezer? Please tell me you’ve got another one.”
The look on Buck’s face tells him everything and Eddie rolls his eyes before making his way back inside. He grabs the ice pack and puts it back in the freezer, rifling through the drawers to find something else to put on Buck’s eye.
“Don’t you even have frozen peas or anything?” he calls out to Buck, looking at the pint of Christopher’s favourite ice cream he’s just found. “How is your freezer this empty?”
“Can’t I just wait until the ice pack is cool again?”
“That’ll take too long, and judging from how warm it is you’ve already spent too long not icing it.”
Eddie puts the beer he brought and the Thai food into the fridge, figuring it’s too early for lunch, so they can just heat it up later. When he closes the fridge door, he spots the ice dispenser and has an idea. He gets a ziploc bag and fills it up with ice cubes, figuring it’s the best option right now.
Then, he remembers the feeling of Buck’s skin under his fingers and grabs two beers, figuring it’ll be better if his hands are occupied.
Outside, he hands the bag of ice to Buck, who snorts but presses it to his face carefully.
“Isn’t it a bit early for beer?”
Eddie shrugs, twisting the cap off his bottle. “I figured we deserved it after the day we’ve had.”
“Good point,” Buck says, putting the ice bag down to open his own bottle and take a long swig. “I bet yesterday you wished our job actually always ended outside of the hospital doors.”
“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Though I guess it was our mistake in the first place.”
“How’d it happen anyway?”
“When the girl was regaining consciousness at the scene, Hen asked her name, and she gave us one. Turns out she wasn’t telling us her name, though, she was asking for her friend.”
“Shit,” Buck mumbles. “And you told the wrong parents their kid hadn’t made it?”
“Actually, we told the wrong parents their daughter had.” Eddie rubs at his forehead. “Hen had to tell them she was the one who died after all.”
“It wasn’t your fault, though,” Buck tries. “How were you supposed to know she wasn’t telling you her own name?”
“Well, it made me think that we should probably be more careful what we tell people on calls. I don’t know. Just wasn’t a fun day. How’s Ravi holding up?”
“Good, I think,” Buck says. “He’s still got a lot to learn, but we all did in the beginning. Or I guess, everyone but you did.”
Eddie rolls his eyes at him and Buck grins, then winces and lifts the ice back to his face.
“Did you talk to Chimney?”
“I went by their place this morning,” Eddie tells him. “He’s...well, you’ve seen him, he’s not great. Better than yesterday, though, he asked me to tell you he’s sorry for the punch, but he’s still mad. He was packing when I got there, too, so he’s probably already going after Maddie now.”
Buck sighs. “I don’t think anyone could’ve stopped him at this point.”
Eddie doesn’t tell him he didn’t even try to change Chimney’s mind. He’s not sure yet how he’s gonna tell Buck that maybe Chimney does know better what Maddie needs right now.
“So,” he says instead, after they’ve been sipping their beers in silence for a few minutes. “Tell me why a certified EMT only has one ice pack and doesn’t ice his bruise as much as he’s supposed to?”
“I don’t know what happened to my ice packs,” Buck says, “I could’ve sworn I had more at some point. As for the other thing...I don’t know, my head’s kind of all over the place right now and it hurts and I was feeling bad for myself –”
“You won’t feel any better with that bruise swelling up even more,” Eddie interrupts, pointing at where Buck has lowered the bag again already, “put it back.”
Buck grumbles but does as he’s told. “I guess that’s also part of the reason. I knew you were coming over to take care of me.”
Eddie’s face goes hot and he hopes he’s not blushing, when he coughs out, “Someone has to do it. Speaking of, do you want another beer?”
He’s already pushing off the bannister he was leaning against without waiting for Buck’s reply, heading straight for the fridge. He sticks his head inside for longer than strictly necessary to locate the beers he put in there himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to cool down.
It’s getting harder and harder, acting normal around Buck. Sometimes, Eddie catches himself staring at him, getting distracted watching Buck just go about his day. Sometimes he takes something Buck has said and turns it over and over again in his head, trying to figure out if there’s a double meaning to it or if he’s just going crazy. But Buck’s still dating Taylor, so Eddie can’t get his hopes up.
“Hey,” Buck calls from outside. “Can you grab my phone from the kitchen? I’m thinking about taking a selfie so I can show Chimney a picture once he’s back, who knew he could punch like that?”
Eddie laughs and grabs Buck’s phone from the counter. The screen lights up and shows Buck’s wallpaper – it’s still a picture of him, Eddie and Christopher at the zoo. Eddie bites down on a smile and slides Buck’s phone into his pocket so his hands are free to carry the beer.
“It actually really hurts,” Buck continues from outside, his voice sounding a lot less happy again. “He must’ve meant it.”
Eddie grabs the beers and starts heading outside, trying to get his head back on straight so he can actually be helpful to Buck now.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with his aim,” he says, handing Buck, who’s wincing while pressing the ice to his bruise again, a bottle. “He got you good.”
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dani-clayton · a month ago
attn 911/ls fic writers!
a conversation in a server made us realize that we need to find a way for 911/ls fic writers to get the attention they deserve. it’s rare for fic writers to get a lot of notes on their fic and we all know that the ratio on tumblr sucks.
so we have a proposition for everyone: let’s use #911fic and #911lsfic as a way for people to get their fic out in the same way that gifmakers use edit tags. the main tags for the shows are still good of course but it’s easy for things to get lost among the text posts, memes, etc. 
people who want to find fic can track the tags and hopefully normalizing the usage of these will help fic writers get their work out there (especially if they’re newer/smaller blogs).
please signal boost to help us spread the word!
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hopeintheashes · 23 hours ago
For touch promts, if you are doing them could I please request Buddie 37. kissing their bruises and scars?
Thanks for the ask! We'll go with 5x04 for this one.
Read it here or on AO3.
Prompts for the Touch list are now closed; one more fill after this! (And that's the accurate count, this time!)
"It's alright," Buck says, but he's wincing as he pulls the ice from his face.
Eddie hums noncommittally and brushes his fingers over the bruise. "You sure nothing's broken?"
"I think I'd know." Not meeting his eyes.
"Probably. Doesn't hurt to check, though. Well." He tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Might hurt a little."
"Just do it." Buck steels himself and Eddie presses as gently as he can to feel for the orbital bones beneath the swelling. Buck gasps and grabs his wrist, and Eddie murmurs an apology and keeps going.
"I mean, I'm no CT, but I'm not feeling anything I'm super worried about." He caresses the unbruised side of Buck's face, Buck's hand still at his wrist. "Except for you."
"I'm okay." Still not meeting his eyes.
"Yeah," Eddie says, quiet and close, and brushes a kiss over the bruise. Another at his birthmark. A third at the scar just in past his hairline from when he was a kid. Maddie patched me up, he'd said, and Eddie's heart twists.
"I don't know what to do," Buck breathes, so quiet it's almost drowned out by the passing cars below.
Sometimes there's nothing you can do. "Give it time."
A huff of breath that might almost be a sob, and Eddie pulls him close and presses a kiss into his hair.
"Give it time."
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