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stagefoureddiediaz · 3 years

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So my costume Meta post seems to have been received in a way I never expected, thank you for all the comments etc in the tags, the reboots and the likes, I’m blushing at your kindness ☺️☺️ but also pleased I’ve been able to give you guys some new perspective on costuming and start some discourse through the knowledge I gained when I worked in costume design and my ongoing ADHD hyperfixation on this wee woo show!

With that in mind I thought I’d look at season 5 in a bit more detail and add a few more things you might all find interesting! I’m going to try and do a full look at costuming for each character as and when I can, but Buck is the easiest to write about because they’re really not being subtle with him at all 😂

That being said before I deep dive into buck a couple of asides to give you food for thought -Chris has generally been dressed more formally when around Ana this season, the big exception being the poisonous creatures tee(it’s so much fun to telegraph information through graphic tees and kids wear them most frequently!), who conversely became less formally attired as her relationship with Eddie deteriorated!

Anyway back to Buck;

We’ve seen him in a lot of hoodies since the shooting (including when he was taking care of Chris in 4x13/14). Hoodies represent warmth and comfort - think hugs- they are an allegory for the type of relationship he’s looking for, why he’s trying to find - the comfort and familiarity of family, we never see him in them when he’s with Tay Kay - only with Eddie or when he’s alone and this serves to make the void in his life (empty lonely appartment etc) bigger and more obvious. They’re also a way of self soothing (when you don’t have the above) and I think we’ll continue to see Bucks hoodie collection until the fallout from the shooting and the will and the unacknowledged feelings he has for Eddie are resolved. I’ll be interested to see if the hoodies become less constricting at this point as the ones he’s currently wearing are well fitted, not loose and baggy like truly comfortable hoodies are!

We’ve seen him a lot more ‘buttoned up’ this season - more formal jumpers and shirts which are buttoned up (if you think back to many of the button shirts he wears throughout previous seasons they’re open over a t- shirt making them less formal) showing he’s not fully comfortable, not being his true self and presenting a specific version of himself to the world. That these generally take place as significant moments, there is the scene at Chimney and Maddies when he’s keeping info from Chim, but they’re mostly with Tay Kay-(he’s had on the patterned shirts I spoke of in my last post) we can infer that he’s not his full true comfortable self with her - he’s holding back and remaining ‘buttoned up’ because he doesn’t fully trust her (all things show by his body language as well).

For Buck his uniform is armour - we heard him say it to Bobby in 3x06. That he’s wearing an LAFD hoodie when talking with Tay Kay about the firefam is important - he’s armoured up in what should be a domestic and comfortable moment with his girlfriend, but his walls are up, again, showing a lack of trust in her.

- Interestingly Tay Kay is in pink (more on pink later)and with bare arms - she is feminine and comfortable - we are seeing her true self - we are meant to read what she says as truth. Tellingly the shade of pink is one associated with, love (either young not fully developed love or the long-standing love of the ages that has mellowed through the passing of time - BT is definitely the former 🤣), children and Barbie - she isn’t mature (when it comes to the give and take of relationships) and is superficial, it makes what she says and her lack of empathy or attempts at understanding Buck and where he’s coming from even more awkward.

The other thing to note is the colour choices - all of the tones we’ve seen buck in have been rich colours that are autumnal - russets, mustard/ochre yellows - or dark tones (charcoal grey hoodie I’m looking at you) suggesting that this phase is nearing its end, the exception (and it’s not really the exception because the shade is a rich shade that fits with Bucks colour ways this season) is the pink jumper he’s wearing when Chim hits him. I spoke in the other post about red being a colour of mother’s and buck wearing pink when he’s stepping into a parenting role - it’s similar here. Except this time it is also a colour of love - he’s reflecting both his protective nature and Maddies - he is not the parent in this situation, he’s the sibling/uncle, he is however undertaking a loving role on behalf of a parent - Maddies - protecting Chim and Jee (I’m not going to get into the rights and wrongs of this scene and how both Buck and Chim acted, it’s nuanced and has been hashed out and picked over a million times) from what(or who) she perceives to be a danger.

We see Buck in grey in the two bed scenes - grey is neutral, it represents not drawing attention to yourself, so what Buck is doing in those scenes isn’t as important as what else is - the first - Tay Kay and her lack of presence in the relationship at that moment - she’s not at ease (as denoted by the fancy lingerie - if she was truly comfortable, and at 4+ months, you’d think they would be at that point of comfort, she’d be in one of his t-shirts or proper pjamas) she’s more interested in work and technology (the tech is everywhere - tv, laptop, phone!). In the second, our focus should be on Maddie and what she is saying rather than on Buck.

Just a little aside on Eddie and the Christmas episode and that it looks like he’s going to be wearing brown when he has a conversation with Carla. Brown and earthy tones generally represent steady and dependable. Interestingly there has been some research done that suggests brown is a good colour to wear when you are open to or want to promote communication (the research showed people found those wearing brown more approachable when needing to ask questions/ for help or relay information) Eddie has maybe reached a place where he is more receptive to receiving advice and communicating what he needs or wants! I’m going to look at him and his brown wearing habits when I get round to looking at his costuming because I know he wears it a fair bit😎🤓

I’m sorry - this ended up way way longer than I thought and I have no idea how to put something under a cut when posting via the app 🤦🏻‍♀️ thanks to all the gif makers whose gif have allowed me to better display my points @prettyboyandthekid @evanbuckleydaily and @dailybuddie and also to @yramesoruniverse for double reblogging me ☺️ it encouraged me to get this post out and I’m working on more - Eddie is coming next!!

Updating to add a link to Eddie’s costume meta

#Kym’s crackpot theory #costume meta #more costume stuff!#I love you all for your response to my last post #costume theory #911 fox #911 on fox #911 spoilers #911onfox #evan buckley #buck #christopher diaz #evan buck buckley #eddie #eddie diaz #anti taylor kelly #carla price #911 season 5

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

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nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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clusterbuck · 3 years

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i want you by my side (so that i never feel alone)

(3.2k, rated T, complete) read it on ao3

Eddie sits in his pew and tries to remind himself that he is in the lord’s house, and that he should really at least make an effort to keep his thoughts respectful.

It’s hard, though, when Buck is at the altar standing up as Maddie’s best man, wearing a suit that should honestly be illegal.

It’s only now, sitting in church trying not to blaspheme, that Eddie realises he’s become desensitised to Buck’s whole… everything. Buck in his firefighter uniform is a lot to take in, but Eddie’s trained himself to look past it. Mostly because he doesn’t ever want to have to explain to Bobby that he missed something on a call because he was distracted by the sight of Buck harnessed up for a rope rescue.

Buck at home—in his apartment or at the Diaz house, they’re practically synonymous anyway—is a whole other matter. Buck in old, faded t-shirts and comfortable sweats, in the LAFD hoodie they’ve been stealing back and forth for so long Eddie isn’t sure whose it was originally. It’s a different kind of intensity, a quiet one that stems from the knowledge that Buck doesn’t let many people see him like that, soft and a little dishevelled on a Saturday morning.

These are incarnations of Buck that Eddie has learned to live with, in the interest of remaining a functional human being capable of doing his job and caring for his son—the only two things on his list of priorities that manage to claw past his highly inconvenient unrequited feelings for his best friend.

But Buck in a suit? This is new, and Eddie’s defences are down. Eddie doesn’t have defences for this. He’s never seen Buck in a suit before.

Maybe he should have made Buck try the suit on at home first, so he could have gotten used to it in private.

Can you get sent to hell for thinking impure thoughts in church? Not that his thoughts are impure, exactly. He’s just thinking about the way the lines of the suit cling to Buck’s figure and highlight his broad shoulders, about the way Buck’s arms strain against the sleeves when he adjusts his cuffs, about the way the starched cotton would feel between his fingers as he unbuttoned Buck’s shirt… Okay, so he might be going to hell.

Eddie shakes his head. This is ridiculous. He’s a grown man, he can pull it together for the duration of a wedding ceremony.

Next to him, Christopher pokes his arm and looks at him curiously. “Dad? Are you okay?” he whispers.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his throat. “I’m fine, buddy.”

“Why were you shaking your head?”

“I just—uh, forgot something I was supposed to do yesterday,” he whispers back. Forgot to mentally prepare himself for the sight of Buck in formalwear. “Don’t worry about it, just watch the ceremony. Look, I bet Chimney’s about to cry.”

The ceremony is just reaching the vows, and sure enough, as soon as Maddie starts reciting hers Chimney starts tearing up enough that it’s clearly visible to their seats near the back of the church.

This is good. If he focuses on Chimney’s quest to win the title of sappiest man alive, it’ll distract him from the public health hazard that is Buck in that suit.

“Is Chimney okay?” Christopher asks, and Eddie laughs under his breath and wraps an arm around his son.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Eddie says and ducks down to kiss Christopher’s forehead. “He’s just really happy.”

One of Maddie’s first proclamations about the wedding was that she wanted to do away with any tradition that didn’t make sense to her, and the first thing to go was the separate table for the wedding party.

“Why would we invite all these people just to sit at a separate table all night?” she’d said, and nobody had been able to come up with a counterargument.

Then she’d gone one step further and decided to forego seating arrangements altogether. “Assigned seating is for middle schoolers and people who don’t like each other,” she’d said at Eddie’s kitchen table one night as Buck supposedly helped her plan the wedding. His helping mostly consisted of eating wedding cake samples, but Eddie was pretty sure Maddie wasn’t there for the manpower anyway. “And we’re neither of those things, so people can just sit with whoever they want.”

“I’m gonna be a middle schooler in the fall,” Christopher had pointed out, just serious enough that no one had quite known how to react. Then he’d grinned, and the kitchen had exploded into laughter.

“Good thing the wedding is in the summer, then,” Maddie said with a conspiratorial smile. “No assigned seats for you just yet.”

So when they get to the reception venue, instead of being exiled to the high table Buck is by their side almost immediately. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it, but Buck always seems to be able to find them in any crowd, effortless like gravity.

“I vote we find a table and set up camp,” Buck says.

Eddie nods, because Buck and his suit are in very close proximity and he isn’t entirely sure he’s capable of forming words right now.

He really needs to get a grip, or this is about to be a very long night.

“What do you think?” Buck asks Christopher, pointing at a table along one wall. “That one?”

Christopher agrees and they set off, carefully weaving through all of the dearly beloved who have gathered to witness and rejoice in Maddie and Chimney’s marriage.

“I figured you’d want to be by the wall,” Buck says, hanging back so Christopher doesn’t overhear. “You usually are.”

“I—yeah,” Eddie says, a little bewildered. He doesn’t remember ever actually talking to Buck about this. About the way that ever since the shooting, he can’t seem to make himself turn his back on crowds. He sits with his back to the wall whenever he can, and when he can’t—like in a church watching his friends get married—he sits as far back as he can, and glances over his shoulder every three seconds like his head is mounted on a swivel.

He’s never talked to Buck about it, but apparently Buck noticed anyway.

Their table, Eddie discovers, is also close to the open bar. He debates taking generous advantage of this fact in order to deal with the continued proximity of Buck and his suit, but—getting drunk would probably make it worse, actually. Drunk Eddie isn’t very good at filtering his thoughts.

Buck, however, doesn’t seem to have similar qualms, and by the time they’ve gotten through dinner, he’s bright-eyed and a little flushed.

Eddie loves Buck like this, tipsy and giggly and affectionate. He gets the feeling that Buck tries a little too hard to be taken seriously sometimes, but when he’s had a drink or three he lets his defences down.

“You should dance with me,” Buck says now, leaning so far into Eddie that his head is resting on his shoulder.

“It’s not dancing time yet,” Eddie says, fighting to ignore the thrill that runs through him at the idea of dancing with Buck. “There’s still speeches and cake first.” Buck, thankfully, had given his best man speech before any food or drinks were served, so Eddie doesn’t need to worry about Buck getting too drunk for it.

“Later, then,” Buck says, and makes no move to pick himself up off Eddie’s shoulder. “When it’s dancing time.”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees. “Later.” Then he wonders whether he can get out of it somehow, because there are a lot of people around and his self-control is already worn thin by Buck practically draping himself over him.

Buck puts a hand out, fumbling around like he’s looking for something until he finally lands on his wine glass. When Eddie looks down, Buck’s eyes are closed.

“Hey,” Eddie says, poking at Buck until he sits up straight again. “Have you been drinking enough water?”

Buck opens his eyes and squints at him. “I’m not that drunk, you know,” he informs Eddie.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and touches his nose with alternating forefingers like a field sobriety test. “See? I’m just lazy.” Then he puts his head back on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a warm rush of affection running through him. “You wanna do me a favour and drink this water anyway?”

“If you insist,” Buck says with a put-upon sigh, but he grins at Eddie so widely that water almost spills out around the edges of the glass.

It takes almost another hour for it to get to dancing time, and as soon as dancing starts, Buck is whisked away by partner after partner. It’s Maddie first, for the slightly altered tradition of the sister-brother dance, then it’s Hen, and then Chimney wants a turn, too. And Eddie can see why: Buck on the dance floor is joyous and carefree. He looks like he’s having fun, genuinely from the bottom of his heart, and like he’ll spread that joy to anyone who dances with him. It’s no wonder everyone wants a whirl.

Eddie desperately wants one, too, but something stops him every time he tries to get up and walk over to Buck. He’s worried that five seconds of dancing with Buck will give everything away, that everyone around them will be able to see exactly what he feels. That Buck will be able to see. He’s worried that if he dances with Buck he’ll read something into it that isn’t there, and then when Buck turns to the next partner with a grin and a little bow he’ll crush Eddie’s heart under his heel as he goes.

It’s a lot to put on just one dance, but Eddie’s always been good at overthinking.

So he stays at his table. The first time someone tries to get him to join the dancing he makes a vague gesture at Christopher, like the reason he isn’t dancing is that he has to stay and watch his kid. But then Hen and Denny come over to get Christopher to join the kids' dance circle they’ve got going on and Chris goes without a look back, taking Eddie’s only real excuse with him.

He manages to dodge the dancing for almost half an hour until Karen materialises at the end of their table and holds out her hand. It’s not a question so much as it is a declaration of what’s going to happen next. “Come on,” she says. “Can’t have you sitting here looking so gloomy at a wedding, people will start thinking you’re secretly in love with the bride.”

“I’m not—” Eddie starts, and Karen gives him a look that feels like it goes right through him.

“I know,” she says. “Wrong Buckley. Now come on.”

Eddie goes, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

He doesn’t know the song that’s playing, but it’s the kind of easy-listening music that always gets played at weddings, inoffensive and easy to dance to. It’s easy to take Karen’s hand and rest his other hand loosely on her waist, to sway around vaguely in time and in tune with the music.

It’s less easy to look at her after what she’d said, because looking at her means acknowledging it. But he looks anyway, and finds nothing but understanding in her eyes.

“Why don’t you just dance with him?” Karen asks. She doesn’t ask if she’d gotten it right, which Eddie takes to mean that he’s probably not as subtle as he’d hoped.

Eddie doesn’t say anything because he can’t quite put it into words, this certainty that dancing with Buck will be the beginning of the end, somehow. He doesn’t know how to explain that he wants to, more than anything, but the idea terrifies him because it feels too close to a confession for comfort.

“Okay,” Karen says. “What level of crisis are we talking about here? Is this a gay crisis? Or—bi crisis?”

“Bi crisis,” Eddie confirms. “I mean—it’s not that, but if it was. It would be a bi crisis.”

“Copy that. Okay, so what’s the crisis?”

“The crisis is that I’m in love with my best friend, and he’s—not,” Eddie mutters. It strikes him then that he’s never said it out loud before.

“What makes you think that?”

“Wouldn’t he have said something by now?” Eddie asks, and Karen looks at him like he’s a little slow.

“Have you said anything?” she asks.

“I—” Eddie starts, and finds he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence.

Karen smiles. “Just dance with him, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t end up dancing with Buck. He keeps trying to talk himself into it, but before he can get all the way there suddenly the banquet hall is emptying out. It’s just him and Buck, now—and Christopher, sleeping in a corner on a pile of spare tablecloths, because he’d insisted he was old enough to stay until the end and proved himself spectacularly wrong.

Buck is going from table to table, making sure none of the guests left anything behind. There’s still music playing—the DJ had gone home an hour ago, but she’d left a playlist on.

Just dance with him, Eddie.

Eddie takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.

Buck looks up when Eddie walks over to him, smiling the soft smile Eddie has only ever seen directed at himself or Christopher.

“Never got that dance,” Eddie says, hoping his voice doesn’t give away the fact that he has spent the past several hours thinking about it.

To his surprise, a blush spreads along Buck’s cheekbones. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

Wouldn’t he have said something by now?

Have you said anything?

There’s a moment where neither of them speaks. Like they’re weighing the options, like they know this isn’t the kind of dancing Buck meant—he’d been talking about a dance floor full of people, safety in numbers, jumping around to something more upbeat.

Then Buck raises an eyebrow and holds out his hand. “You did promise,” he says.

Technically, Eddie thinks, he hadn’t promised. All he’d said was sure. But as he takes Buck’s hand and steps closer, arguing the semantics couldn’t be further from his mind.

Buck is in his shirtsleeves, his jacket long since sacrificed to be Christopher’s blanket. Eddie spreads his fingers along the small of Buck’s back, and his shirt feels exactly like Eddie had imagined back in the church.

The music shifts just as they settle together, going from a soft pop ballad to something closer to a waltz. Buck takes a few halting steps, but it’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Eddie huffs a soft laugh under his breath. “Here, just follow my lead,” he says. He steers Buck, gentle pressure on his back, and counts steps out loud until Buck gets the hang of it.

Then they’re waltzing around the empty room, and once Eddie stops murmuring one-two-three one-two-three there’s nothing left between them but a couple of inches of air. It feels like nothing, and it feels like the Grand Canyon.

Buck looks up from where he’d been watching Eddie’s feet. “How come you know how to waltz?” he asks, whisper-quiet even though there’s no one else in the room to disturb.

“There are still things you don’t know about me,” Eddie says, equally quiet.

Buck narrows his eyes like he’s going to challenge that, but they’re interrupted by a door clanging open. It’s a teenager in a catering uniform, one Eddie vaguely recognises from throughout the night.

“Uh, sorry,” she says as Buck and Eddie spring apart, looking anywhere but at each other. “Just, we’re about to close up?”

“Sorry,” Buck says. “We’ll get out of your hair.” The girl disappears back through the door, and Buck turns to Eddie. “You get the kid, I’ll get our stuff?”

“Meet you at the car?”

“Race you,” Buck says, and Eddie grins.

Christopher is sleeping soundly enough that he barely stirs when Eddie picks him up, careful to keep him wrapped up in Buck’s jacket. He makes it to the car just as Buck approaches from the other direction, and they work together to get Christopher settled and buckled in without waking him up.

Eddie doesn’t have to ask if Buck is coming home with them. They don’t talk on the drive, mindful of the sleeping child in the back seat, but there’s a tension humming in the air, the feeling of something unfinished and unresolved.

Christopher doesn’t react when Eddie extracts him from the car and carries him to his room. Briefly, Eddie debates whether he should wake Christopher to brush his teeth, but—the kid’s already asleep, and pretty deep, from the sounds of it. Chances are waking him up now would do more harm than missing one night of brushing teeth.

Besides, he doesn’t want to risk Christopher waking up wired and refusing to go back to sleep. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going to happen when he goes back into the living room, back to Buck, but based on the way Buck had been looking at him in the banquet hall before they were interrupted, and the way Buck kept stealing glances at him on the drive home, he’s pretty sure something is.

And he’d thought he’d be nervous, if this day ever came, but all he feels is excitement starting to build somewhere in his stomach.

Buck is waiting for him in the living room, something like determination blazing in his eyes. “Hey,” he says. “Is this one of those things you think I don’t know about you?” He cups Eddie’s face and pulls him in, closer, pressing his entire body along Eddie’s before finally fitting their lips together.

Eddie kisses back instinctively, wrapping his arms around Buck to pull him closer. He feels simultaneously like he’s drowning in Buck and like Buck is his only supply of oxygen; he wants to keep getting closer and closer until he’s crawling inside Buck’s ribcage.

The need for real oxygen pries them apart eventually but they don’t go far, foreheads pressed together and their heavy, panting breaths mingling.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks. “If you knew?”

“I didn’t for sure,” Buck says. “Not until today.”

“What about today?”

“I saw the way you looked at me in the suit,” Buck smirks.

Eddie groans.

“Hey, all’s well that ends well,” Buck says, and leans in to kiss him again. Eddie loses track of how long they stand there in the middle of the room, getting to know each other in this new way, exploring with hands and tongues, marking time in hitched breaths and soft sighs.

When Buck eventually starts steering them towards the sofa, Eddie goes willingly. They collapse in a tangle of limbs, and Buck lands mostly on top of Eddie. Buck’s weight presses him down in a delicious way, and Buck’s every movement sends sparks skidding down Eddie’s spine. Buck wastes no time in taking advantage of his new position, shifting his hips against Eddie’s and grinning when Eddie lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

“Buck,” he hisses. “I’m—it’s been a while, I’m not gonna last long if—”

But Buck just grins above him. “Who said I’m trying to make it last long right now?” he says, grinding his hips in a slow, deliberate move. “We have the rest of our lives for that.”

#buddie fic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #this is the buddie at a madney wedding fluff that i have been dreaming of for a month now #no this isn't what i said i'd write in september but the idea materialised in my head fully formed #what was i gonna do #not write it??#shush emma #emma writes

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thisissirius · 4 years

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Siri, wow, can I have Buddie with Royal AU and Soulmate AU? I love your writing!

this made me so happy! i am here for this combo ;)

blink and almost miss eddie/buck, soulmates, royalty au

Trying to escape from his bodyguards is becoming a full time job.

Lucky for Buck, he’s been doing it since he was a toddler. Bobby never learns, always puts bodyguards with too much spine on Buck duty, as if he doesn’t already know Buck hates those types.

“it’s for your protection,” Athena always says with raised eyebrows.

Buck gets crushed one time in a freak accident and suddenly everyone wants him kept in bubble wrap. Under wraps. Heh.

The pier is packed with people—Buck doesn’t pick his battles as well as he evades bodyguards and press—and Buck navigates them easily. Most people don’t pay him any notice, which works for him, and he manages to hover around a couple of stalls without getting his picture splashed onto social media.

Buck catches sight of a kid with crutches on his own, looking at the people around him. When he was a kid, fresh in the state, Buck remembers getting lost because his bodyguards have always sucked, and he knows how terrifying it can be. He can’t help himself; he jogs up to the kid. “Hey, you alright?”

The kid immediately looks up, face shifting between emotions quickly. “My dad says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“And he is absolutely correct,” Buck says, trying to think of something that will help him get this kid found.

The boy’s eyes widened. “You’re the prince.”

“Ssh,” Buck says, pressing a finger to his lips and crouching down. He doesn’t think anyone around them has heard; nobody’s immediately stopping and demanding his attention. “Let’s keep that a secret for now, okay? Think we can catch up with your school?”

There’s a moment’s hesitation. “I’m not here with my school. Ms. Ingrid takes care of me when my Daddy works. She gets mad I can’t keep up.”

Buck feels a momentary flash of anger but covers it with a grin. “Do you know if Ms. Ingrid has a phone number we can call?”

“No,” the boy says. “She doesn’t give it to me. She says I’m too stupid to remember but my dad says I’m smart.”

Buck’s chest tightens further with anger but he crouches down, gives Chris the brightest smile he can. “I think I believe your dad, buddy. Do you know if he has a number?”

“Yes,” the kid says brightly, then his face falls. “It’s in my coat and Ms. Ingrid left it in the car.”

Ms. Ingrid is definitely Buck’s least favourite person. “Well, I’m gonna call some people myself, alright? Wanna find somewhere to sit until they get here and help us find your dad?”

“Okay,” the kid says. “He’s a firefighter but I don’t know where.”

Filing the knowledge away where he’ll probably never use it, Buck finds a nearby bench and directs the kid to it. He doesn’t know the protocol for this kind of thing, and if anyone sees, they might think he’s kidnapping the kid or something. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. “My name’s Buck.”

“I thought it was Evan,” the kid says, tilting his head back.

“My friends call me Buck,” Buck says carefully.

The boy’s smile is blinding. “My friends call me Chris! My name’s Chris. Except when my dad’s mad or worried.”

Buck laughs gently; yeah, he knows those kinds of problems. “My dad gets like that too.”

Chris nods. “My dad says King Bobby is awesome.”

“That he is,” Buck says. He can’t wait to use that particular adjective on Bobby. “Right, let me just call for help, okay?”

Chris seems content to sit next to him on the bench, watching people go by. Buck pulls out his phone and bypasses his bodyguards, going straight for Hen. She’s managed to dig him out of several scrapes and he kinda needs her advice.

“—Why I even bother!” Hen’s yelling decreases and Buck gives Chris a funny look. Chris giggles and Buck hears Hen’s sigh. “That the kid?”

“Yep,” Buck says. “I don’t know where his chaperone is and I know people are starting to notice me. Any chance we can find this kid’s parents?”

“Just dad,” Chris adds helpfully. “Eddie Diaz, and he’s a firefighter. Mom’s dead.”

Buck’s heart lurches painfully. “I’m sorry to hear that, buddy.”

“It’s okay a lot of the time,” Chris says, though he looks a little sad. “Dad makes it more okay.”

There’s clacking from the other end of the phone and Buck tunes back into the conversation, keeping a hand on Chris’ shoulders. “Found him. I’ll call him and the cops. Please stay where you are.”

That means bodyguards. Buck rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told and waits.

It takes about ten minutes for help to arrive in the form of Buck’s bodyguards. Bobby’s gonna be having people fired at the end of this, but Buck’s glad to have some friendly faces around. Thankfully, they don’t try to hustle him off the pier, and Buck assumes Hen’s contacted them and managed to get things under control.

Not long after, the cops arrive with an unimpressed Chim.

“What the hell?”

“Look,” Buck starts.

“No, I don’t wanna hear it,” Chim says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Cops, Buck, really?”

“It’s fine,” Buck stresses. “Whoever’s chaperoning Chris—”

“That would be me,” an unimpressed voice says.

Chris shifts closer to Buck and whispers, “That’s Ms. Ingrid.”

“Christopher,” Ingrid says, and Buck hates her on sight. “What have I said about wandering off?”

“I didn’t,” Chris starts.

“And lying,” Ms. Ingrid stresses. She looks at Buck—and he sees the flicker that she recognizes him—but immediately turns to the cops. “This man is kidnapping!”

“Hey now,” Buck says.

“No he isn’t!” Chris cries.

“I highly doubt that,” a new voice puts in.

Buck looks up and fuck, that is one handsome man. He’s striding through the crowd, anger clear on his face, and Chris immediately perks up from behind Buck.

“Dad!”

The man sweeps in, hugs Christopher tightly, and Buck’s heart hammers against his chest for reasons he can’t explain. “Christopher.”

“Told you,” Chris says, looking up at Buck, and Buck can’t help laughing. He stops as soon as Chris’ dad stands, eyes narrowing. It takes a beat, two for him to realize who he’s staring at.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Uh, I mean, your Highness.”

“Oh god, don’t,” Buck groans. “Listen, it’s—”

“Dad,” Chris says, smiling widely, “this is Buck! He stopped me getting lost when Ms. Ingrid went ahead and—”

“I did not,” Ingrid stresses.

Chris’ dad—Eddie, apparently—looks thunderous. “This isn’t the first time.”

Ingrid bristles, and Buck ignores Chim’s warning look to interject. “Chris was by himself,” he says, quietly when Eddie turns the full force of his gaze on him. It sends a shiver up Buck’s spine and makes him want to do whatever it’ll take to get Eddie to stay. What. The fuck. Ignoring it, Buck continues. “I didn’t know what else to do but have someone call you.”

“I appreciate it,” Eddie says.

“Bo—your father is going to kill you,” Hen says, coming up behind Chim. Buck groans internally. Now that they’re both here, Buck’s in a world of trouble.

“It wasn’t Buck’s fault,” Chris says immediately. “He was helping me!”

Hen looks amused more than irritated, and Buck grins, knows Chris is winning her over already. Maybe she won’t eviscerate him once this is over. “Is that right?”

Chris nods. “Please don’t be mad, Ma’am. Dad says we should be grateful to people who help us.”

“Should we?” Hen says.

Chris’ dad flushes, hands on Christopher’s shoulders. “Buddy, I think we should—”

“Please don’t go,” Buck says immediately. He knows how it sounds and can feel his own cheeks heat up. “Let me sort things with the cops and then we can talk or something, I just want—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hen and Christopher’s dad say at the same time.

Buck deflates, crouching down in front of Chris. “I’m glad we met, buddy.”

“Me too,” Chris says, looking sad. “Am I allowed to hug a prince?”

Though his bodyguards might throw a fit, Buck doesn’t give a fuck. “You absolutely are.”

Chris moves forward a step, wrapping his arms around Buck’s shoulders. Buck squeezes him gently, breathing in a scent that’s oddly familiar, though he can’t pinpoint how. When he pulls back, he gives Chris a bright smile.

“I’m glad I met you, Christopher.”

“Me too.” Chris says. “I wish we could be friends for longer.”

Buck feels something settle in his chest, an uncomfortably tight feeling. “Yeah. But you have to do something, alright? Make sure you always keep smiling and definitely make sure to take care of your dad.”

Chris nods and Buck doesn’t know what to make of the indecipherable look on Eddie’s face.

“This is ridiculous,” Ingrid snaps. “He doesn’t get accused of kidnapping because he’s a prince?”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Buck puts in.

“Hey,” Eddie says, stepping between Buck and Ingrid. “I left Chris in your care and you abused it. I won’t be paying for today’s session and you can guarantee I won’t be sending Chris to you again.”

“We have a contract,” Ingrid starts.

“Voided,” Hen cuts in. “If you like, we can talk about it with the cops.” Placing a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder, Hen steers her away and Buck lets out a slow breath.

Eddie’s still standing in front of him looking angry and Buck wants to wipe the expression off his face.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Eddie asks, genuinely surprised.

“You didn’t have to step in. For all you know, I could have kidnapped your kid.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie says immediately.

Buck doesn’t want to argue, he doesn’t, but his mouth is already saying, “how do you know,” before he can stop it.

There’s a strange expression on Eddie’s face, like he’s not sure himself, but he’s shaking it off. “Chris says you didn’t. I trust my son.”

“Then I’m glad I met Chris,” Buck says, smiling down at Chris, who grins. “You have a pretty awesome kid, Mr. Diaz.”

“Eddie.” Making a face, Eddie’s lips quirk up into a soft smile. “I’m only Mr. Diaz when I have to be.”

Buck laughs at that, though he doesn’t know why; it’s not particularly funny. Something about Eddie puts him instantly at ease. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“You too,” Eddie says, holding his hand.

It’s easy enough for Buck to place his hand in Eddie’s with every intent to shake it. As soon as their palms touch, Buck feels hot, his body burning from head to foot. He can’t stop staring at Eddie, who’s watching him back, mouth open, eyes wide. Buck wants to get lost in them, can’t help but move forward. Eddie meets him halfway, free hand coming up to touch Buck’s cheek. Every place they touch has Buck tingling and he breathes out a soft noise.

Eddie moves forward, crashing his lips to Buck’s. It’s instantaneous, the build up of emotion and it rushes in, fills every part of Buck’s head until he’s dizzy with it. He’s accepting the bond, he knows, letting Eddie consume him, and Eddie’s doing the same otherwise it wouldn’t work and he—

“Uh,” he says when he wakes up.

“Idiot,” a familiar voice replies. Chim, Buck thinks, cracking open one eye. “Wake up, Princess.”

“Prince, actually,” Buck says, and his head is pounding. “What happened?”

There’s enough of a silence that Buck opens his eyes. He’s laying on the ground. Wood. Sounds of the pier rush in at the same time the memories do and he jerks up, frantically looking for Eddie.

“I’m right here,” Eddie assures him, and there’s a hand on the back of his head. “You passed out.”

“Oops,” Buck says, and closes his eyes again. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

There’s a soft press of lips to his head. Buck tingles. Eddie breathes. “Is that normal?”

“I don’t know,” Chim says, sounding put-out. “Hen’s the soulbond expert.”

“Oh,” Buck says. “We bonded.”

Another silence.

“I don’t mind,” Buck says, groping around, satisfied when Eddie’s fingers tangle with his.

“I’m a widower,” Eddie says gently, his voice low. When Buck opens his eyes again, trying to ignore the swirl of anxiety deep in his chest that he knows doesn’t belong to him, he can see the fear on Eddie’s face. Eddie swallows, looks over to Chris, who’s being looked after by an attentive Hen. “I have a kid and a shit ton of baggage.”

Buck knows what this is and he doesn’t like it. He leans in, forehead against Eddie’s shoulder and thankfully, Chim leaves them to it. “I don’t care.”

“Evan—”

“Buck,” Buck says helplessly.

Eddie sounds worried, but Buck can feel his heart pounding beneath his cheek, an emotion strong in Eddie’s mind that Buck doesn’t dare name. “Buck.”

“I get it’s a lot,” Buck says quietly. “I’m a prince and I’m—well I’m sure you know.”

“I read things,” Eddie admits, hand resting on the back of Buck’s head. He starts stroking, gently, and Buck wants it forever. “I don’t know you.”

“We can learn.” Buck doesn’t want to pull back, but he needs to look Eddie in the eye. “If you want.”

Eddie’s smile could light a thousand dark days. “Alright.”

“Good,” Buck says and leans in, kisses Eddie again. It’ll never get old, he thinks, and then looks up as the clatter of crutches on wood drags his attention away from what Eddie tastes like.

“Buck!” Chris pauses. “Are you okay?”

“I am now, Chris,” Buck assures him.

Chris looks at Eddie, then Buck, then back to Eddie. “Is Buck your friend, Dad?”

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that,” Hen says, looking at Buck pointedly.

“Bobby’s going to kill me,” Buck groans.

“As in King Bobby?” Eddie says, going instantly pale.

Buck nods.

“Oh, shit, you’re a prince,” Eddie says.

“Yeah.” Buck speaks slowly. “You know this.”

“Does this make Dad a prince too?”

Oh. Oh shit, Buck’s going to die.

Chim raises his eyebrows. “Oh no, neither of you are going anywhere. We’re going back to the palace to explain this.”

“Yay,” Chris cheers.

“Awesome,” Buck says, heavy with sarcasm.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Eddie replies.

Buck stares at him, feels the thrum of fear from Eddie. Beneath it is a rush of warmth, pride, and adoration. Love, Buck thinks. It’s love. “We’re gonna be fine,” he blurts, hopeful.

It takes a moment, but Eddie nods, touching Buck’s face again. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

#buddie fic #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #911 #otp: i forgive you #fic by me #Anonymous

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detectivecarlosreyes · 4 years

Text

Pain of a Different Kind

Also on Ao3 | Word Count: 1k | Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Day 6: Buddie + “Just breathe, okay?” + hurt/comfort

@buddieweek2020

Eddie thought he knew what pain was when he was younger, but it wasn’t until he joined the army when he learned what it really was.

Before the army he thought that pain was just physical, the kind you get when you fall out of a tree and get cuts and bruises from the branches. The kind that your mum picks you up from and kisses what hurts to make it better. He used to think that over time pain goes away, forgotten once healed.

Now he knows that isn’t true.

He learned from his second tour that pain can be a memory, one of loss and grief of losing a team member, a friend, someone who he trusted with his life. A memory that reminds you of how close you could have lost your own life, one that leaves an invisible wound on your heart and your head, that will fade but never be forgotten.

Yeah, he learned that memory could also leave you reminders, ones that you will never truly be able to forget because these ones are scars, old wounds marring your skin as raised white marks that ache years after they had been inflicted.

Eddie has mementos of the worst time of his life, bullet wounds from his last tour, one in the shoulder and wrist, and a white streak on his leg that was once a graze. Constant reminders of a time of his life that he wishes he could forget.

Most of the time these days he doesn’t notice them, the knowledge that they exist and what their presence represents shoved down in the deep recess of his mind as he goes about his day; doing his job, being a dad, being a boyfriend. He gives them his complete focus because it means that he’s moved forward and hasn’t let his past hold him back.

The problem is when he sleeps, he can’t control what his mind decides to show him. Generally, when he sleeps he doesn’t dream, the depths of a deep sleep claim him after each exhausting day. This particular night, however, had his bullet wounds aching, thrumming with pulses of their own and reminding him of that day.

He’s not sure what brought it on but has his suspicions that his near-death experience underground had left that door to his mind ajar which he had long since locked.

The ache started mid-shift, slowly reclaiming his attention to the point where he couldn’t ignore it. He kept it to himself and he’s certain no one caught on to his disquieted mind, no one except Buck. His boyfriend has somehow always been attuned to the emotions of everyone in the team and it seems he’d picked up on whatever energy Eddie has been mask throughout the rest of the shift.

Thankfully, Buck had kept it to himself, instead choosing to keep close in silent comfort and maintaining his presence until they clocked out and went home together. As if he knew Eddie wasn’t ready to talk about or explain what was going on, Buck didn’t ask any questions on their way home and carried most of the conversation when they got home to Chris.

When it was time for bed, Eddie didn’t think he would actually sleep, unable to calm his mind, not when the old injuries had his undivided attention. Nevertheless, with his back pressed against Buck’s chest and arm held comfortably he found himself being lulled by the sense of comfort Buck’s presence provided.

But as he said, he couldn’t control what his mind decided to show him when he was asleep, and now with the door ajar, and his wounds aching anew it was the perfect environment for those memories to come flooding back and he could do nothing in his unconscious state but relive them.

Eddie doesn’t remember waking up, all he knows is pain fresh from the battlefield when he thought he would never see Christopher again.

At some point he becomes aware of a voice, one he now knows by heart. “Eddie, It’s me, its Buck. You’re not wherever you think you are, you’re with me, in LA.”

Buck manages to get him talking, asking him things he could see, touch, and smell, and with each question he answered he returned to the present, scars still aching.

He falls sideways into Buck and feels his arms automatically wrapping around him, one hand rubbing soothing patterns into his back while the other held his head gently against his chest by his heart. “Just breathe, okay?”

And so he did, doing his best to match his breaths to the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. It took some time, but he finally got there and found himself circling his arms around Buck’s waist and drinking in his steady, comforting presence.

He knows he being uncharacteristically vulnerable, but it doesn’t bother him because he knows Buck understands, having had them be in a reversed situation in the past.

Eventually, Buck draws Eddie back down against the pillows, keeping him cradled against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, feeling slightly guilty for waking Buck up.

“What? Eddie, no. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for.” Eddie feels him press a kiss into his hair, “Did you want to talk about it?”

And Eddie finds that he does, so he tells Buck everything and Buck listens as he explains it all, humming every so often to make sure he knew that he was still listening through the darkness of their bedroom.

It helps. He didn’t expect it to, but it does even if it was only a little bit. Maybe it had something to do with being able to share it with someone who understood, who could relate to it even if came from a different kind of experience. Or maybe it's just because he completely and utterly trusted Buck enough that he could be completely open without fear of being invalidated.

In any case, the ache felt more bearable, it was still there lurking, but he knew that it would eventually pass. And in the meantime, he had Buck there to help alleviate whatever he could in the most Buck-way possible.

Time may not heal all wounds but with the right person by your side, they can be made much more manageable and that’s all Eddie could ask for.

#buddieweek2020 #Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #mentions of Christopher #nightmare #memory #physical pain #physical ache #emotional pain #911 fic #911 fox #buddie fic #userkourt #userkimmy #jess writes #my fic

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buckleysjareau · 4 years

Text

you feel like the sun on my face

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile.

Eddie's view on Buck's Wikipedia spirals and the beginning of the brilliant idea it inspires.

part 1/3 in my series ‘cause i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place on ao3

cw; non-graphic description of anxiety, scary facts about tsunamis (they’re freaky so this is just to be safe)

One thing Eddie noticed about Buck in the time they’d become friends was that Buck loved to research. He was full of obscure knowledge and useless academic insight and he never let people forget that.

The longer they were friends, the more Eddie realized it was used as a coping mechanism. After bad calls, he’d sit on his laptop and fall down a Wikipedia rabbit hole that, according to Buck, is extremely difficult to get out of.

After the train derailment, and as Buck put it ever so dramatically, the derailment of his sanity, he’d taken Buck back to his house. After the exhausting night they had, he figured Buck would fall right to sleep as soon as he hit the couch. He offered his bed, they were two adults, they didn’t have to make sharing a bed weird; but no, Buck insisted he sleep on the couch.

Which would have been fine with Eddie if Buck had actually slept.

“How did you know my laptop password?” He snorts when he realizes Buck is using his laptop.

When Buck turns to look at him with a smirk, Eddie’s eyes widen as he notices Buck’s bloodshot eyes and the bags under them. “Chris’ birthday, dude? Really?”

“Have you slept a wink?” He leans up against the wall, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“Probably not.” He shrugs. “Too busy reading about the evolution of cameras.”

“The what?” Eddie’s mouth drops. “Why would you need to know about the evolution of cameras? And why my laptop? Don’t you have a phone?”

“Why wouldn’t I need to know about the evolution of cameras? The history of the camera began even before the introduction of photography. It evolved from the camera obscura through so many generations of photographic technology like daguerreotypes, calotypes, dry plates, and film. Now we’ve got cameras on our phones, and not to mention cameras and phones didn’t used to exist, which is crazy.” Buck sounded exhausted but enthused at the same time and Eddie curses himself for finding his coping mechanism adorable. “Speaking of phones, to answer your question, it died somewhere around three.”

Eddie nods. “So that’s why Maddie’s called me six times.”

Buck looks at him sheepishly. “Sorry?”

The next time Eddie catches him during one of his Wikipedia binges, it happens a month after they get together.

During family dinner at the station, Bobby mentioned that Harry begged to have a beach day and proceeded to invite the rest of the one-eighteen on their next day off. Eddie looked over to his boyfriend at the mention of it but Buck wasn’t showing any signs that he wasn’t okay with going.

But he was always good at putting on a mask. Spectacularly good at it.

When he wakes up on the day they’re supposed to go, he sends Buck a quick text before he goes about his usual routine. He gets Chris up, brushes his teeth, attempts to make a nice breakfast for them, and gets Christopher ready for the day.

When Buck doesn’t text him back by the time he checks his phone again, he starts to worry. He feels foolish for worrying about not getting a text back, especially when it’s possible that Buck could be going through his morning routine as well, but his reason for worrying is justified.

He gives it another hour before he stops torturing himself waiting for Buck to call or text just to let him know he is on his way.

“Chris, buddy, change of plans! We’re gonna pick up Buck on the way.”

“I thought he was picking us up?”

Eddie smiles through his worry. “I think he overslept, bud. We’re gonna go wake him up.”

Christopher grins. “Surprise attack?”

Eddie snorts. “Surprise attack.”

He lets himself in with his key after knocking fails to work. He automatically sees Buck slumped over the island in his kitchen, just barely sitting on the white stool. His laptop is open and next to it, Buck is dozed off.

Eddie squints to see where Buck landed in his Wikipedia spiral and when he sees what it is, his heart squeezes in his chest.

The tsunami with the highest runup was the 1958 Lituya Bay megatsunami, which had a record height of 524 m (1,719 ft).

He skims through enough of the page to know he’s looking through Wikipedia’s page on tsunamis. He looks at the top to see the tabs he has open which only makes him feel worse.

How To Survive a Tsunami, According to Science

2019 Santa Monica Tsunami

Tsunamis In History

Dealing with Aquaphobia

There’s a lot of tabs open and all of them have to do with tsunamis. He knew this would be upsetting for him, he knew Buck was pushing his limits by even saying yes to going. He should have seen this coming.

“Hey, buddy, I’m gonna wake up Buck and we’re gonna have a little talk. Do you mind going to the couch? I’ll put the T.V. on once he’s awake, yeah?”

“Is Bucky okay?”

“Do you remember how nervous you were to go back to the beach after the tsunami? I think he’s going through the same thing right now, but he’ll be just fine. You know why?”

“Because he has us?”

“Because he has us.” Eddie smiles softly.

Once he gets Chris set up on the couch, he quietly walks over to where Buck is still drooling onto the island. He can’t stop the snort that escapes him. He reaches over to his shoulder and shakes gently, realizing how deep in sleep he is when that doesn’t wake up. He shakes his shoulder a little harder.

“Buck, hey, honey… wake up.”

That does the trick. Buck bolts upright too fast, falling completely off of the island stool and just misses completely hitting the floor when Eddie catches him with two arms.

Buck’s eyes widen at the sight of Eddie. “Eddie? Shit, what time is it?”

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just passed twelve.”

“Shit, Eds, we’re late! I’m so sorry, dude. Give me-”

Eddie stops him from frantically running to get ready by tightening his grip on Buck’s shoulders. “Slow your roll, babe. I think we should talk first.”

He feels Buck’s entire body tense at those words. “Talk about what?”

Eddie ducks down to get Buck to meet his eyes, smiling softly when he does to hopefully ease whatever spiraling thoughts going through his head. “Have you been anywhere near the beach since the tsunami?”

Buck looked unsettled, almost embarrassed as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Eddie sucks in a breath. “Buck, it’s been over a year…”

“I know, I know, I’m pathetic. It’s just-”

“You’re not pathetic, babe. After what you went through out there, no one could ever blame you for not wanting to go. Clearly this whole day out has you on edge if your searches have anything to say, so why did you say yes?”

“I can’t avoid it forever, Eds.” Eddie’s heart cracks along with Buck’s voice.

“No, you can’t. But you have me, Buck, you didn’t have to deal with all of this anxiety alone…”

“I just… hate that I’m a grown man that cowers at even the thought of going near open water. This is something that I should just be able to do without someone holding my hand.” He swallows. “I said yes because I thought I would be ready. I guess there really is no ready, though, is there? I’m always just going to be like this.”

Eddie frowns. “Trauma knows no age, you know that. You went through a trauma and being scared does not make you less of an adult, doesn’t make you a coward. Let me tell you this. I wasn’t ready in any way, shape, or form to be a dad when Christopher was born, but the second I got over the initial terror that I’d fuck it all up, being that wonderful kid’s dad in end of that fear was pretty damn rewarding. So, what I’m trying to say is, we don’t have to go, we can just sit here the whole day and play video games and stuff our faces. But, really the only way to conquer a fear is to face it, right? I’ll be right by your side the entire time, we only have to go as far as you can make yourself.”

“And I’ll be there!” Christopher shouts from the couch and Buck’s face lights up as his eyes fill with new tears.

“Superman!”

Eddie can’t stop the enormous grin that comes from the sight of his son and his boyfriend meeting for a hug in the middle for a room. Buck is kneeling down to Christopher’s height and has his arms tightly wrapped around him.

“I was scared the first time at the beach too, but I was okay because I had my dad. You’ll have both of us, Bucky. It’s going to be okay, kid.” Eddie watches through his own tears as Buck’s shoulders shake with sobs.

“You’re such a good kid, buddy, you know that?” Buck is gleaming and though filled with tears, his eyes are full of love.

“Please don’t leave my side,” Buck’s plea is desperate but Eddie wants to laugh.

“Never.”

Buck never stops shaking the entire drive to the beach.

“A tsunami can travel at 500 miles an hour, a wall of water can travel at you full force until it hits.” He’s whispering so he can’t scare Christopher but it does nothing to help himself.

“Buck…”

“If a large magnitude earthquake hit Alaska, it could trigger a tsunami in California. An earthquake can happen 2,000 miles away and cause 700 million dollars worth of property damage, not to mention the death toll that would cause.”

Eddie tries to stop him another time, but only gets cut off by another fact about tsunamis.

“A smaller tsunami could be triggered by an offshore earthquake and we’d only have ten minutes to evacuate and that’s if we even knew we had to evacuate-”

“Evan, stop. You’re only freaking yourself out more, okay? It’s going to be okay whatever happens. I’m by your side, I have you, baby.”

Eddie feels like he’s in Heaven just watching Buck blush and look down at the pet name, but then the tiny smile drops and he looks away.

He’s quiet after that but Eddie can feel the car vibrate even after it’s turned off with the force of Buck’s shaking. “You ready?”

Buck’s eyes squeeze shut the second his eyes see the ocean. “As I’ll ever be.”

The grip Buck has on Eddie’s hand is bordering too tight but he’s walking on the sand and towards where everyone was set up, closer to the water, and he finds himself emotional that Buck has gotten this far.

“Just keep swimming, Bucky.” Christopher cheers on from next to Eddie. “Just like Dory.”

He’s almost certain he hears a whimper from Buck at the expression.

“Just like Dory.” Buck repeats.

The second they reach everyone, Buck spins to face Eddie and quickly pulls him into arms, seeking comfort. He wastes no time in returning the hug, cradles the back of Buck’s head in his hand and uses the other to rub his back.

“You made it, babe. You did so fucking good, I’m so proud of you.”

He knows their family is watching, he hears Maddie distantly explain that this is the first time he’s stepped foot on a beach in a year and a half. His only focus is telling his boyfriend how damned proud he is.

“I love you,” is muffled by Eddie’s shirt but he doesn’t need it to be comprehensible because he feels it loud and clear.

“Forever.”

The next time he really thinks of Buck’s obscure knowledge and his coping mechanism, it really comes in handy.

Eddie felt as though he was vibrating out of his own skin the entire shift. His hands were shaking by the time he finally got home. He finds Christopher asleep in Buck’s arms on the couch. The sight of his favorite people lessens the tightness in his chest in the slightest.

“Hey, how was work?” Buck whispers when he lays his eyes on him.

“Nothing too crazy happened, so I guess good.” He shrugs. “Thanks for watching him today, seriously.”

“You okay?” Buck shoots him a look when Eddie goes to lie. “Eds, your hands are shaking. What’s wrong?”

Eddie sighs. “I just feel… weird.”

“Let me get him to bed seeing as we both fell asleep here and then we can talk, okay? Sit down, take a breath.”

He tears up at the sight of Buck carrying Christopher to bed. He couldn’t believe he found someone that loved his son like their own and he couldn’t believe that person was Buck. His best friend.

“Talk to me, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“You seem to be in a good mood,” He tries to get the attention away from himself, even though he knows it’s pointless. After the lawsuit, before they even got together, they both promised to communicate better. They both definitely failed at that far more than they should have, but no one should have expected any less. They were trying, that’s all that mattered.

If they brought a call home with them, they talked it out.

“What can I say, your kid is a ray of sunshine.” He grins. “Nice try though, Eds. You didn’t let me get away with it last week and your shaking is kind of scaring me. Come sit.”

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile. Eddie lazily threw himself onto the couch next to Buck.

“What do you want me to even say? It’s not like I brought a call home with me. Nothing bad happened. I’m just, uh, in a mood.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Buck is cupping his face in his hand. The soft concern behind his blue eyes makes more tears build behind his own.

“Come here,” Buck whispers, guiding Eddie’s head down to where it’s laying just above his heart. “Anxiety?”

He doesn’t know why that word draws a reaction as strong as sobbing but Buck pointing out it’s not just a weird mood has him breathless and emotional.

Buck tightens his arms around him. “Hey, take a deep breath with me alright?”

He nods and takes in a breath just after Buck and to know that he can breathe is enough to calm some of his bubbling anxiety.

“You hear my heartbeat?” Buck is so unbelievably good at taking care of him when he feels this way. God, how did he get so lucky?

When Eddie nods he feels Buck’s chest rise just a little with quiet laughter. “Did you know you can hear a blue whale’s heartbeat from two miles away?”

Eddie laughs wetly. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! And even though they’re the biggest animal that’s ever lived on Earth, blue whales feed on krill, they’re like tiny shrimp. They can eat up to 36,000 kilograms of krill a day. Lucky animals.”

This statement has a laugh erupting from him without time to muffle it, a smile spread from ear to ear as he looks up at his boyfriend.

“There he is!” He smiles down at him before he pecks his lips. “Anyone ever told you how dazzling your smile is, Diaz?”

“Dazzling?” He snorts.

“It’s one of the many words I would use to describe your smile. Dazzling, shiny, gleaming, beautiful, life ruining, you know.”

The anxiety is slowly leaving his body and it’s filling with love and warmth in its place. He snuggles closer in Buck’s arms and revels in the safety and comfort.

“You know? I never get to be the little spoon. This is nice.”

“Now you know how I feel in your arms.”

“Safe? Happy? Warm?”

Buck lips quiver with emotion. His eyes give away love, peace, light. “Yeah, exactly.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes before Eddie’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Hey, Buck?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something? It’s not a big deal, but my curiosity is getting the better of me.” He continues when Buck hums his response. “The Wikipedia spirals? The random knowledge about blue whales, the evolution of cameras, winning us trivia night at Frisco’s like it’s nothing every week with answers to questions Bobby didn’t even know. You just have a lot of knowledge in that smart brain of yours. Something I adore about you, don’t worry.”

He feels Buck let out a sigh before he snuggles Eddie closer to him, resting his head on top of Eddie’s.

“It’s just a thing, I guess. Random facts always, uh ground me, when you know-”

“I know.” He assures him.

“Yeah. It’s always been something to cope with anxiety, but it’s also just something that I just do. I like to learn, I like to read about things I didn’t know about before. I like learning for the sake of learning, I guess?”

“You’re so smart, you know? Don’t let anyone make you think differently.”

“You’re so much better than I deserve, please let anyone make you think differently.”

“Does anyone include you? Because babe? You’re so much better than I deserve but there’s no time for an argument right now.”

Buck yawns loudly. “Says who?”

“Says your sleep schedule. Close your eyes, use me as a pillow, I don’t care. Go to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Not like I have a choice here, seeing as you’re holding onto me for dear life, but I’ll always be here when you wake up. Now, and every day in the future, okay? Now sleep.”

Buck snorts and mumbles sleepily, “Love you, Eds.”

Jesus, Eddie really wants to marry him.

“I love you, too, Evan.”

To Hen;

Help me propose to Buck? I need a bunch of Wikipedia knowledge on proposals, marriage, all that good and sappy stuff. I’d ask the Wikipedia king himself, but you know…

From Hen;

WHATYSHDDJKSKJAHDKJDSKFKLK:LDK:K:DKSLDKEIWDJJSKDSKDKSJKDJSJDS

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #soft eddie #my writing #i love eddie diaz #my fics

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bookdancerfics · 4 years

Text

words like physics (an unstoppable force), a 9-1-1 fic

Summary: Hen and Buck end up dangling over a cliff, with Buck only holding onto Hen, but she can’t hold on to the cliff side forever. Buck thinks the solution is an easy one; Hen disagrees.

Series Summary: 5 times Buck prioritizes his family’s wellbeing over his own, and the 1 time they help him prioritize himself.

Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley & Henrietta “Hen” Wilson

also available on ao3 and ff.net

Series: checking vital signs, part one, part two (this fic), part three (yet to be posted) / six parts

The next time the 118 go out for “team bonding,” Hen is going to automatically veto anything Buck suggests. It’s the only thing, she figures, that will prevent situations like this one: where she and Buck are hanging over a cliff’s edge, no footholds in reach, with their team members waiting for them back at the trail’s parking lot and their phones sitting tantalizingly close by, where Hen had recommended putting them so they wouldn’t accidentally drop them over the edge. Little did she know that the edge of the trail would end up dropping out from under them, reminiscent of the hiker who Buck still insisted had a ghost call 911. The entire situation is so ridiculous that if she didn’t know any better, she’d think someone was making the whole thing up.

And yet, here they are.

She clutches Buck’s hand tighter when she feels it slip a little. She has one hand on the short chain that had served as a barrier between the trail and the cliff’s edge, although it hadn’t done much in keeping her and Buck from sliding when the whole thing went. Now it’s the only thing keeping them from dropping several hundred feet, although the loose dirt at the top doesn’t give Hen any confidence in its stability, especially not since the skinny stakes it’s connected to are now parallel to the earth. She doubts the stakes or chain had a good foundation to begin with, and her and Buck’s weight is only making it worse. Her hand not holding the chain grips Buck’s, and in return, his “free” hand grasps her wrist. Although the cliffside is close enough to Hen to press against her chest, it turns into an overhang at her ribs, and her legs and Buck’s whole body swing out in empty air.

She grunts, doing her best to tighten her grip on the chain in an attempt at establishing a more secure hold. It’s rusted, red dust flaking off under her palm, but it beats the alternative of a slippery new chain.

“Hen,” Buck says, his voice more serious than normal.

She shakes her head. “Sorry, Buckaroo, but it’s not happening.”

He’s silent, and then—“How’s the adoption process going?”

“What?” She risks moving just to stare at him, and he stares back up at her, his lips twitching.

“What’d you think I was going to say?”

Hen huffs and tightens her grip on his hand. “Nothing, just think this is a strange place to start a game of twenty questions.”

He grins, and if Hen doesn’t look above his nose she can pretend that it reaches his eyes. “It’s a beautiful day, Hen. Nice and peaceful, no one yelling at us to clean the truck. Even the sun is out. Where else would you want to talk about your future kid?”

Hen rests her cheek against the cliffside. It stings, and she knows that she scraped it up when they first fell, but it’s a reprieve from having to hold up her head in addition to Buck’s weight and hers.

“We met this little girl last week. She’s eight.”

“Eight, huh? Probably going through a creative phase if she’s anything like Chris.”

Hen manages a weak smile. “Her brother’s eight, too.”

For the first time since they fell, Buck frowns. “But Denny’s not—”

Hen grins at him as his jaw drops.

“Twins?!”

“Yeah,” Hen says. She readjusts her grip on the chain just a fraction and tightens her hold on Buck. “Crazy, right? Karen’s uh…” She clears her throat, then coughs. “Karen said she was going to go visit them again today, see if they’re ready to meet Denny.”

“Hen, that’s awesome,” Buck says, and even if Hen weren’t looking at him, she knows she’d hear him beaming through his voice.

“Thanks.”

Buck squeezes her hand and his smile finally drops. “Do you want to try again?”

As much as Hen wishes he were still talking about adoption, or even the IVF process, she knows he’s not. But she remembers the last time they tried, how Buck’s grip had transferred to her shirt and their combined weight had become more centered, more focused, as he tried to climb up her to reach the cliff’s edge. And even though she wants to reach her family, wants to at least go down fighting, she shakes her head. “Last time the shift in weight almost made the whole thing come down. I don’t think we can risk it.”

Buck nods, and they’re both silent for the next couple minutes.

“Try yelling again,” Hen says finally.

Buck glances up at her. “You have a good grip?”

She nods.

“Okay, then,” he says, and his own hold on her hand tightens as he raises his face to the cliff’s edge and screams for the rest of their team. He yells for Cap first, then Chimney, and finally Eddie, until they know for sure that no one else is in range.

“They’ll be here eventually,” Hen says. The thought is heavy, though, almost as heavy as her and Buck’s combined weight, and she tightens her hold on the chain so much that her fingernails dig into her palm.

“But not fast enough,” Buck replies, and Hen looks at him sharply. He stares up at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “We both know it, Hen. Just as we both know the only way out of this.”

“Sure,” Hen answers, ignoring what he obviously wants her to say. “Except physics doesn’t work that way when the contact point is so unstable. Swinging you up will only drop us both.”

“Hen,” Buck says, and it’s the same serious tone he’d used before asking her about the adoption process, back when they both knew what he was going to suggest until she shut him down.

“I mean it, Buck,” she says. “So don’t even think about it. I’ll never forgive you otherwise.”

“Henrietta,” he says, and she squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as best she can against a cliffside.

“No,” she insists.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

In the next moment she can feel him prying at her fingers, but she just tightens them more, digs and digs and digs until she has rust under the nails of one hand and blood under the nails of the other.

“Hen, please!” he says, begging, but she won’t let go of his hand and she’s proved it now.

“No!” she yells at him. “So help me, Buck, we’re both making it out of this or I swear I’ll—”

They both freeze at the same time, staring at each other. In the distance, there’s a bird squawking, the whistle of the wind over the cliff, and along the path—

“Did you hear that?” Hen whispers, and Buck nods, utterly still now.

“Hen?” The call is faint, coming from far away, and Buck’s mouth hasn’t moved. “Buck?”

“Here!” she yells. “Chimney, we’re here!”

A couple minutes later, she hears the pounding of boots along the trail, and she and Buck scream for them until Bobby, Chim, and Eddie’s faces pop over the edge.

“Hey,” she manages, breathless but still smiling at them. “We’d love some help.”

“No kidding,” Chimney says, his eyes wide. “What even happened?”

“Tell you after,” Buck calls.

Hen tightens her hold on him instinctively, feeling her hand start to slip in their combined sweat and literal blood.

“Hurrying would also be nice,” she says.

Buck’s own grip tightens around her wrist, and he shoots her a wry grin. “No worries, I’m not letting go.”

Hen just scowls at him. “Tell that to the you of five minutes ago.”

“Ok, Hen, how much longer do you think you can hold on?” Bobby asks, even as he and Chimney grab the chain to keep it from slipping.

Hen shakes her head. She’s been holding on for so long, now, her whole shoulder feels numb, and she knows her grasp on the chain only lasted till now because of sheer determination and the knowledge that if she fell, then Buck would, too.

“Alright, we don’t have time to get anything from the cars, then. Eddie, grab Hen’s hand. Buck, do you think you can climb up?”

Above her, Eddie lays on his stomach and then gets a good grip on her arm. And below her, Buck starts climbing.

He gets about halfway up before Hen feels her hold on the chain start to go.

“Eddie!” she warns, and the chain slips through her fingers.

“Crap,” Eddie gasps. Hen realizes that she’s involuntarily closed her eyes to everything, and she opens them to find that they’ve dropped further, her and Buck’s combined weight too much even for Eddie, who’s halfway over the cliff himself now. Above him, she can just make out Chimney and Bobby. The two are piled on Eddie, apparently using their own weight to keep him from budging.

“Holy shit,” Buck says, and a strangled laugh escapes Hen in response.

“Please hurry up,” Chimney says, his own voice tight with fear.

“Going,” Buck answers. “I’m going.”

He grabs Hen’s shoulder, heaving himself up just a little further until he can finally reach the hand that Bobby holds down to him. Together, with Buck scrambling for hand and footholds, and Bobby practically doing a one arm bicep curl to help pull him up, they manage to haul him onto solid ground.

“Okay,” Bobby pants, still sprawled on top of Chimney and Eddie. “Now Eddie and Hen.”

Hen somehow manages to hold on even tighter as they pull Eddie’s torso back onto the trail, and then they keep going, dragging Hen up until they’re all collapsed, panting, on solid ground.

“Oh, gosh,” she groans, staring up at the sky as she lays next to her team. “If it wasn’t dirt I’d kiss it.”

There’s silence, and then from a few feet away Buck speaks up, his voice quiet. “… yeah.”

Hen blinks, turns her head until she can look Chimney in the eye, and a beat later they’re all laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Buck says, even as he laughs with them. “Hen was the one who said it!”

Hen just shakes her head, positively cackling now, and clutches at her stomach as it starts to hurt.

“Oh, my abs,” she gasps, and their laughter, which had started to die down, turns into giggles. Hen tries to take a breath in an effort to stop, but they’ve all stumbled right into an infectious laugh-fest, and it’s hard to even breathe at this point, they’re laughing so hard.

“I can’t stop,” Eddie groans.

“Fuck,” Buck says. Someone pounds a fist against the dirt in response, and Hen stares at her team and loses herself to the bliss for a split second.

“We should get away from the edge,” Bobby manages, and in the end that’s what sobers them all up, silence echoing around them as sudden as they had started laughing.

Chimney moves first, getting to his knees and then his feet, and Hen grabs his hand when he offers it, letting him pull her up for the second time that day. Bobby follows, grunting as his knees crack, and normally Hen would laugh at him for it but the humor of the situation has completely fled the scene. All Hen can think about now is what almost happened, what would have happened if Buck had made his move a few minutes earlier, or the others had gotten there a few minutes later.

As soon as Eddie and Buck join them all on truly solid ground, Hen turns right around and pokes Buck in the chest as hard as she can. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

“What?” Chimney asks. “We were just joking around.”

But Buck stares at her, his mouth turned down and his eyes serious, and then nods.

“No,” Hen says, and pokes him in the chest again. “Say it out loud. Let ‘em all know what you were planning on doing.”

“Hen?” Eddie says cautiously. “What’s wrong? You’re both fine. It was just loose dirt, it wasn’t Buck’s fault.”

“Not that,” she says. “And not the joking around, either.” Buck’s gaze goes to the dirt, but she knuckles at his chin, forcing him to look at her again.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But there are records of people surviving twenty thousand foot plus falls, I figured as long as I landed right it’d be fine. Break my legs, sure, but we’d both live.”

Someone takes a sharp breath next to her, but Hen doesn’t bother to see if it was Bobby, Eddie, or Chimney. It doesn’t matter.

“You don’t know that.” Hen grabs Buck’s shoulder and gives it a small shake. “Buck, you don’t know that. Even if you did everything right, you still could’ve died. And if you lived, what? You wanted me to be responsible for you being off team again? I don’t think so. I was ready to hang there as long as it took, you understand me?”

“You couldn’t have supported both of our weight that long,” Buck protests.

Hen shakes her head. “What’d I say about the beat of my own drum?”

Buck finally cracks a smile at that, and Hen claps him on the shoulder in return.

“And hey, Buckaroo,” Hen levels a look at him, then smiles. “You ever call me Henrietta again, you won’t like what I’ll do to your locker.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Buck laughs.

#evan buckley #henrietta wilson #hen wilson #911 on fox #911 fic #911 fanfic #9-1-1 fanfiction #my fic #mine #checking vital signs

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