#princessfbi enabled me as always

[buddie-buddie]

as long as you're right here (stay next to me)

2.2k - g - read on ao3

The fireworks show is Buck’s idea. 

Not that Eddie puts up much of a fight once he sees the hopeful glint in Buck’s eye. But still. Buck’s idea. 

“Fireworks?” Eddie asks, passing Buck the stack of plates he’d just pulled out of the dishwasher. He used to like fireworks. It feels like a lifetime ago, but he did. Before he was choppered out of a combat zone with a couple of bullets and some shrapnel beneath his skin. Before he almost bled out on the pavement in the middle of the day and added another couple of scars to his collection. Before sparks rained down in the middle of a parking lot and left Buck’s lifeless body hanging limply from the ladder truck. 

“It’s the Fourth of July,” Buck says by way of reply, putting the plates away before turning back to Eddie. “We have to see fireworks on the Fourth of July.”

It is the Fourth of July after all, and Christopher is sleeping at the Wilsons’ which means Eddie and Buck have the night to themselves. Fireworks might not be the worst idea. Sure, they’d have to go to the ones in the park to avoid running into Christopher and his friends at the pier, lest they commit the ultimate parents-of-a-preteen crime.

But it could be nice. Romantic, even. Eddie can picture it now. Just the two of them, laying side by side in the grass and staring up at the stars, hands intertwined as they wait for the show to begin. Although he doesn’t think there’s anything romantic about his chest tightening and his heart rate ratcheting up as soon as the explosions begin. Nothing screams “romance” quite like his palms sweating and his skin buzzing beneath an onslaught of anxiety.

Any protests Eddie might’ve had die on his tongue when he goes to pass Buck the silverware basket and instead finds himself lost in the sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes. There’s something hopeful there, something that has Eddie setting the basket down on the counter and stepping around the dishwasher door, something that has him snaking his hands around Buck’s waist, something that has him saying, “Okay, baby,” before meeting Buck’s lips in a kiss. 

Eddie understands why Buck wanted to come. It’s… well, it’s kind of perfect. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon, leaving the sky painted in shades of purple that slowly bleed into blue. The balmy air smells like popcorn and Buck’s lips taste like cotton candy, which makes the twenty minutes spent waiting in line for it completely worth it, as far as Eddie's concerned.

There are plenty of other people here, but there’s more than enough room for everyone to spread out and have their space. 

“This is nice,” Eddie says, once they’re settled on the blanket Buck insisted they bring. Buck hums in agreement, leaning his head against Eddie’s shoulder as their fingers tangle together. 

. . .

The first explosion startles them both. There’s plenty of warning, and yet Buck feels Eddie tense beneath him, the muscles in his shoulders coiling tight as the first round of fireworks burst in the sky above them. His own breath hitches in his throat, and he catches himself gripping Eddie’s hand just a little bit tighter. 

Eddie squeezes back almost instantly, without hesitation. It’s the reminder Buck needs that Eddie’s here, that he’s safe. That this won’t be like the last couple of times a similar sound echoed around them. That no one’s going to be left bleeding out in the middle of the street. No one’s going to be dangling lifeless in the air as a driving rain pours down over them. 

“We’re okay,” Eddie murmurs. Somehow, amidst the explosions and cheers and voices around them, Eddie’s quiet assurance rings the loudest. 

“We’re okay,” Buck echoes. He squeezes Eddie’s hand again. 

When the next round is fired off, neither one of them flinches. 

There’s something a little bit surreal about it, living in this moment. It’s the same feeling he has every morning when he wakes up next to Eddie, the same feeling he has every time he packs Christopher’s lunch, every time Eddie announces it’s Buck’s turn to take the trash out. It’s the same rush of warmth beneath his skin, the same flutter of his heart that happens every time they pull up to a red light and Eddie steals a kiss across the center console, every time Eddie texts him from the grocery store and asks if they’re out of eggs.

There’s beauty in the mundane, and even more so in the moments— these moments— that make up a love, a life that Buck simultaneously dreamed of and never thought he’d have. 

He’s never known happiness like this. 

He turns to tell Eddie as much when the first spark hits them. 

It takes a moment for Buck’s brain to realize what’s happening. At first, all that registers is Eddie grabbing him, his arms coming around Buck’s sides as he pulls him into his chest. One of Eddie’s hands is in the middle of his back, the other on the back of his head. He tucks Buck against his chest, holding him as close as he possibly can. And then they’re moving. Rolling, more specifically. There’s a flash of heat, a loud series of pops and sizzles and high pitched whines. 

Someone screams. Someone else does too. And then there’s another round of quick, loud pops. 

And then Buck doesn’t hear anything at all except for the hammering of his own heart. 

Maybe it’s Eddie’s heartbeat he hears. He’s still holding Buck against his chest, still has his own body draped over Buck’s. He’s still blanketing him— still protecting him. 

Buck doesn’t know yet what’s happening. He doesn’t know what it is that Eddie is shielding him from. But he does know that it feels safe here, wrapped up in Eddie’s arms and tucked close into his chest. 

“Buck?” There’s panic creeping into Eddie’s voice. “Hey, look at me.” 

His hands come to bracket Buck’s face, leaning back just enough so they can see each other clearly. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

Buck nods. Part of him wants to look around and figure out what the hell just happened. But a bigger, more insistent part of him can’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. They’re wide and searching, filled with fear and concern as they rake over Buck’s face. Buck doesn’t miss the slight tremble in Eddie’s bottom lip, nor the way his breath seems to catch in his throat with each shaky inhale. 

“You’re sure?” Eddie asks, his voice equal parts hopeful and unsteady. 

Buck nods again, and lets Eddie hold his face in his hands and run his thumbs over his cheeks as the panic in his eyes melts into relief. 

“W-What’s going on?” Buck asks, his voice unsteady.  

“Some idiots brought homemade fireworks.” The disgust is thick in Eddie’s voice, each word dripping with disdain. 

A second round explodes nearby and they scramble to get to their feet. Buck stumbles, his foot catching in a stranger’s blanket amidst the chaos. He hits the ground, though Eddie’s quick to haul him up and link their fingers together. People are still screaming, still running, the entire area having descended into madness as the professional fireworks continue firing into the sky.  

Eddie leads the way as they weave through the crowd. His grip on Buck’s hand is steady and unwavering; he doesn’t let go until they’re back at the truck, and even then it’s only long enough for the two of them to climb inside and shut the doors before Eddie’s hands are back on him. This time, they’re running over Buck’s hands, his wrists, the warm skin of his arms left exposed by his arguably too-tight t-shirt. They make their way to his face, pausing in time with the breath that catches in Eddie’s throat. 

“Eddie,” Buck begins. His voice sounds gravelly, like he’s just swallowed sand. He clears his throat and tries again. “Eddie, I’m fine. I— I’m okay.”

. . .

“You’re bleeding,” Eddie says. Voicing the realization doesn’t do much to stop the hammering of his heart, nor the way his breath is coming in bursts so quickly his lungs have started to burn. If anything, it magnifies it. “You’re… you’re bleeding. On your cheek.”

Buck brings his fingers up to his cheek, and Eddie guides them with his own trembling fingers to where the skin across his cheekbone is scraped. It isn’t bleeding heavily, but enough so that Buck’s fingers come back tinged in red. 

“Guess I am,” Buck says, his voice calm in a way that’s almost disarming. 

He’s bleeding because some imbeciles thought it would be fun to set off their own amateur fireworks a few feet away from them, and Buck is calm about it. Not that it matters — Eddie’s got enough rage for the both of them. 

Buck pulls down the sun visor, turning his face away from Eddie’s gentle hold just long enough to check out his scraped up cheek in the small mirror before turning back to face Eddie. “Nothing a little betadine and Neosporin can’t fix.”

“Buck—” Eddie hates the strangled edge to his voice, the way it threatens to break over the single syllable. He hates how scared he sounds, how weak and defeated. He needs to be strong for Buck. He needs to—

“I know,” Buck says, his voice soft and gentle as he brings his hand up to Eddie’s cheek. He runs his thumb over the freckle beneath Eddie’s eye, the same one he makes sure to press a kiss against every night and again every morning. “I was scared too.” 

He leans forward, his forehead resting against Eddie’s. They share a long, deep breath. Eddie’s hands have migrated to Buck’s neck, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath Eddie’s fingers grounding him in ways he’d never be able to describe. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes in the familiar scent of Buck’s shampoo, and thanks God and Jesus and every saint he can name that they made it. That they’re here. That they’re together. 

That they’re okay. 

By the time they get home, Eddie’s calmed down. Around halfway through the drive, his heart no longer felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. His hands were still shaking, mostly due to the adrenaline comedown. Buck had been quick to notice, though, reaching over and taking Eddie’s hand in one of his own.

“How were you so calm?” Eddie had asked, looking over at Buck and admiring the way his eyes sparkled beneath the glow of the streetlights. 

Buck had shrugged. “You had me. I knew it would be okay.” 

Eddie’s eyes shone with tears for the next two blocks.

Their hands are still laced together now, as Eddie leads Buck into the house and towards the bathroom. He pulls out the first aid kit as Buck sits atop the counter, spreading his knees to make room for Eddie to work. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says after a moment, earning himself a frown from Eddie.

“Sorry?” Eddie echoes, his voice low and quiet as he focuses on getting the lid off of the betadine, but the concern in it perfectly clear all the same. “What for?” 

Buck sighs. Shrugs. Drops his gaze to where his hands grip the countertop on either side of his thighs. “This isn’t supposed to be how we remember tonight.” 

“Nah,” Eddie says simply, pouring the solution onto a gauze pad. “I’m not going to remember this part. Standing in the cotton candy line for twenty minutes because someone has a raging sweet tooth, though…”

Buck scoffs. “Well I’m going to remember you eating half of the cotton candy you insisted you didn’t want.” 

Eddie will remember that too. 

He’ll also remember the way it tasted even better clinging to Buck’s lips. He’ll remember that slow, sweet kiss right as the sun went down. He’ll remember Buck’s head against his shoulder, the way the tension bled out of him and how everything inside of him suddenly settled as their fingers laced together in the overgrown grass. He’ll remember his stolen glance at Buck as the fireworks display started, the way the shadows danced across his face beneath the shades of red and blue that lit the sky.

He’ll remember being together. 

He’ll forget the rest.

. . .

Later, once Eddie’s put the first aid kit back under the sink and eased Buck off the counter— despite his protests that he’s completely fine, baby, I promise — they make their way to bed. It’s there, with Buck tucked into Eddie’s side and his curls brushing the underside of Eddie’s jaw, where Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s head and murmurs, “That’s not what I’ll remember.” 

“Hmm?” Buck hums, looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes. 

“When I think about tonight,” Eddie says. “I won’t remember giving you first aid on the bathroom counter. Or those godforsaken idiots lighting off a glorified IED.”

Buck grins. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll remember being with you.”

“You will?” 

“And the cotton candy line,” Eddie deadpans. “But mostly being with you. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Buck tips his chin up to meet Eddie for a kiss. And even though this one doesn’t taste like cotton candy, Eddie thinks it still might be the best one he’s ever had.

#my writing #buddie #whump #not like a tonnnn of whump but enough to tag it #hurt/comfort #also soft as hell #protective eddie diaz #soft evan buckley #soft buddie #i started this fic a year ago and immediately got absolutely rocked by covid and wrote half of it with a 104 fever #and didn't touch it again until today #princessfbi enabled me as always #i'd like the record to reflect that #but anyway i digress #my birthday is today and finishing/posting this is my gift to myself #all the online shopping i've done today notwithstanding