Timber Timbre
The firework that sets him off is probably a Roman candle, and way closer than all the other ones have been, by Henâs estimate. Eddie is on the ground before she can say anything and Henâs blood runs a little cold at the realization of whatâs happening.Â
âEddie,â she says gently. âItâs still fireworks, itâs okay.âÂ
Eddie is squatting low behind the kitchen island, head down, and heâs visibly shaking. He nods jerkily, but his breathing doesnât slow at all. Henâs heart hurts, but sheâs careful not to get too close. Sheâs well versed in many a mental health crisis, but what to do when your friend is having combat flashbacks feels a little out of her depth. She gets low with him, keeps her tone soft and even. âHow can I help, Eddie?âÂ
His eyes are wild when they meet hers, his hands clenching around nothing like heâs physically clinging to the present. âCan you-â he stutters. âWhere is-? I need Buck.âÂ
Hen is on her feet as quickly as she can without startling him. âIâll find him, okay? You stay right here.âÂ
Downstairs, Buckâs holding the heavy bag for Chim, saying something that was probably meant to be encouraging but comes out more antagonistic. Their shift into being brothers has obviously been going well. They both stop in their tracks when they see the look on Henâs face.Â
âEddie needs you.â It feels important to say it the way he did.
Another firework goes off then and Buck pales. âOh, shit.âÂ
Then heâs taking the stairs two at a time with Hen and Chim not far behind. âKitchen.â She calls after him.Â
Eddie is where she left him, but now his hands are pressed against his ears. Buck squats down in front of him slowly, ducking his head so he can catch Eddieâs eye. âHey, hey, itâs okay, itâs me, Iâm here.â He says, like itâs definitely not the first time.
He looks back and Hen and Chimney, whispers, âCan you guys sit with us a second?âÂ
They nod, taking their places off to the left across from them, backs against the kitchen counter. Close enough if they need help, far enough away to keep their bubble intact. Henâs grateful for the direction, and when Bobby comes out of his office, she waves him over, finger to her lips. He doesnât question it, just squats down on Henâs other side.Â
Eddie shudders, breathes hard out of his nose. Says, âBuck.â Real soft.Â
Buck nods, scoots closer at the recognition, reaches out to run his fingertips feather-light over Eddieâs forearms. âYouâre in LA, Eddie. At the 118.â
Eddie gasps like heâs just reached the surface of water. âDoesnât- doesnât feel like it.âÂ
Buck grimaces. âI know. I know, letâs go through it, okay?âÂ
Eddie nods, once, lets Buck take his hands and keep going. âI feel,â Buck prompts.Â
Eddie closes his eyes. âPanicked.âÂ
Buck nods, soft look on his face like pride. It makes Henâs eyes water. Their boy has grown up so much.Â
âBecause the fireworks made me think about,âÂ
âThe chopper going down. Getting shot at while the fire was burning. Greggs.â Eddie grits out through bared teeth.Â
Buck rubs his thumbs over the backs of Eddieâs hands. âBut if I look around I can see,âÂ
Eddie forces his eyes open with what looks like immense effort, trains them on Buck for a solid ten seconds before he looks around the rest of the room. âYou. The 118. Bobby. Hen. Chimney.âÂ
He looks at each of them in turn. Hen nods encouragingly, waves a little, which seems to increase the recognition on his face.Â
Buck smiles at him. âYeah, thatâs good, real good.âÂ
Some of the tension seeps slowly from Eddieâs shoulders, and Buck rewards it with a squeeze of their joined hands. âTell me what day it is.âÂ
Another firework goes off in the distance and Hen wants to murder someone. Bobby looks like heâd help her without a second thought. The fucking audacity to set off explosives when you live by a firehouse is astounding.Â
Eddie winces but Buck stays firm with him, tapping his fingers rhythmically against Eddieâs knuckles. âWhatâs the date, Eds?âÂ
âFourth of July.âÂ
âExactly. Which means,âÂ
âMorons.â Eddie answers like, rote, like heâs been trained. The way Buckâs handling him right now, Hen supposes he has been.Â
âYou got it.â He praises, pressing forward until his forehead rests against Eddieâs. âChris was excited, though, remember?âÂ
âPoke cake.â Eddie responds and Bobby smiles.Â
Midwestern traditions often mystify Hen, but Christopher was so excited to make that weird jello cake with Bobby and Buck that she couldnât help but decide she loved that one. They spent all evening in Bobby and Athenaâs kitchen last night, making gratuitously American dishes that should be objectively gross but that Denny and Chris were wild for. Poke cakes with red and blue jello, things being called âsaladâ that have never and will never be salad, and burgers that were always a welcome staple in Grant-Nash cookouts.Â
Buck is tapping his fingers on Eddieâs knees now, alternating as he prods Eddie to talk him through Christopherâs latest science project. Bilateral brain stimulation, her brain provides. Works for most long-term trauma treatment but can also be helpful during flashbacks. Evan âInternet Research Extraordinaireâ Buckley certainly hasnât been a slouch in this endeavor.Â
As he talks through Buckâs prompts, Eddie is slowly relaxing, sitting up on his own a bit more but shifting closer to Buck, tension slowly bleeding out of him as he points out the things he knows, the things he can see, what Bobby made for dinner, what Chimneyâs favorite show is right now, what class he helped Hen run flashcards for. It makes Henâs heart grow too big in her chest. To know that theyâre a part of Eddieâs recovery, of him feeling safe.Â
âWhere are you, Eddie?â Buck asks again after a few minutes of this. Theyâre side by side now, shoulders brushing as they lean back against the island cabinets.Â
Eddie takes a deep breath, sags a little against Buck. âIâm in LA. Iâm at the 118 firehouse. Youâre all here with me. Everyoneâs safe.âÂ
Hen smiles encouragingly at him, Chim says, âWeâre here for you, man.âÂ
Eddie looks away, mutters, âEsto es tan vergonzoso,â color staining his cheeks.Â
âNuh uh.â Buck answers, firm. âNone of that. No tienes nada de que avergonzarte.âÂ
Hen knows Buck spent a while in Peru. Bartending, she thinks. Sheâs heard him speak Spanish to people on calls before, but his accent has historically been horrendous. It sounds like being in the Diaz orbit has been helpful for that. Hen doesnât speak Spanish well, but sheâs been in LA long enough to get the gist most of the time.Â
âSorry you guys had to see that.â Eddie apologizes anyway, ignoring Buck.
Bobby shuts that down immediately. âEverybodyâs got their demons, Eddie. Weâre just happy we can help with yours.âÂ
He tells Eddie he should take the rest of the night, even as Eddie protests that heâs fine and he doesnât want to leave them hanging. âItâs just a few hours, Eddie. Take him home, Buck?âÂ
Buck nods, looking relieved that he didnât have to ask permission. Eddie still looks a little mortified, but itâs tempered by Bobbyâs careful hand on his shoulder. âGet some rest, and Iâll see you tomorrow.âÂ
âWhen do you think theyâll give in and just get married?â Chim asks after Buck bundles Eddie into his Jeep.Â
Bobby snorts. âIâve had the paperwork ready to go for years.â
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If I Should Fall
buck/eddie | rated: Teen | 23.7K | ao3
So last Monday, I posted this little thing. Of course I took the week and went and wrote the rest of said thing. It's complete and all posted now!
Itâs just after midnight and Buck is going to bed. Heâs been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many Am I the A-Hole videos and Instagram had those gorgeously, if deceptively edited food recipe posts and he doesnât even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok.
His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he lies down. A number he doesnât know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until theyâve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons? Long story short, he answers.
âBuckley?â The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice.
âUh, yeah? Who is this?â
âMehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.â
âOh, hey,â Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. âWhatâs up? Why theâ why are you calling?â Why would he call in the middle of the night?
Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.
~~~
A helicopter crash leaves the love of Buck's life dying in a hospital, leading him to evaluate the life he has, the life he wants, and where his heart belongs.
tags for some beloveds who showed interest đđ
@eddiebabygirldiaz @sibylsleaves @hoodie-buck @wh0re-behavi0r @hippolotamus @suavecitodiaz @chaosandwolves @daffi-990 @jyt1891 @iced-coffee-jesus @rockets-obscure-omnibus @ronordmann @emilybahu @family-tree-of-ships @frenziedblaze @penpatronuswhump @imascar @kinardbuckley @tommykinrd @burnthatbridge @watchyourbuck @ultimateteadrinker @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @evanbi-ckley @sorryimlatecapt @so-much-purple @edmundobiaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @klaush4rgreeves @xunandran @diazsdimples @swiftieeddie @djdangerlove @smallandalmosthonest @queerbuckleys @herrmannhalsteadproduction @lovecolibri @bekkachaos @jesuiscenseedormir @monsterrae1 @buffaluff @spotsandsocks @l0v3t0hat3y0u @the-likesofus @fiona-fififi @messyhairdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @lemonzestywrites @alex1424
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