thinking about buddie stick&poke tattoo again. they're deciding on the design and because neither of them can draw they're throwing out suggestions and buck says that if eddie didn't already have it christopher's birthday would've been a good choice and eddie pauses for a moment then goes 'huh. that's not a bad idea.' and buck squints at him and says 'i thought you already had chris' birthday tattooed?' and eddie's like 'no not that,' and scribbles down another date. and buck looks at it and it looks familiar and his heart skips because it can't actually BE that, right?? and he forces a light voice as he says 'what's this?' and eddie gives him an incredulous look and says 'are you saying you don't remember the day we met, buck?' and buck tries very hard not to pass out.
they could’ve had way more fun with the eddie uber driver thing post return to la if everything else didn’t happen. the whole team are on a night out and when it’s time to leave buck is like i think i’ll just book an uber home and gets his phone out smiling to himself. two minutes later eddie’s phone goes off and it’s a venmo notification from buck for $5 and a note with his address on and an obnoxious smiley face :))))). eddie’s just like get in the damn car. he drives buck to bedford street though. obviously.
imagining chris also being a hangry lil guy and eddie one day looking at him sulking and him and buck trying to coax him into eating something and afterwards going 'man that was like pulling teeth, i don't know where he gets that' with zero irony and buck just stares at him incredulously for like a full minute.
Eddie has never flipped his phone over so fast. Chris looks up, eyebrows raised.
“Did Buck send you another snake picture?” he asks.
He can't say no, because Buck… Buck did. But not of a rattlesnake mid-strike this time. He sent an entirely different sort of snake. He nods, his throat too dry to speak.
They're nearly done with dinner, Chris pushing a few peas around on his plate like they'll disappear if he just believes hard enough. “Can I see?”
Eddie should've said it wasn't a snake. Of course his kid would want to take a look at whatever freaked him out.
His phone buzzes again.
Buck: I'M SO SORRY
Eddie: Send an actual snake
Eddie: Hurry
His phone vibrates. Buck's sent a picture.
Eddie blanches. It's awful. But he clicks it so Chris won't see any of the surrounding messages or accidentally scroll and flips his phone.
Chris takes it to study it. He zooms in. Tilts his head. Brings the phone up close to his face.
“Do you need new glasses?”
Chris ignores this. He consults his own phone.
Eddie stares desperately at his, because for the first time in his life, it's potentially a bomb. He's never gotten one of… one of those before. Once, in high school, Shannon joked about it, but then she'd peed on a stick, and that was the end of any fun of that sort.
The sound of Chris's phone ringing snaps Eddie out of his reverie. He flinches, which makes Chris laugh. Chris is holding his phone between them on speaker, waiting for Buck to pick up.
He does. Buck never disappoints. “H-hey, Chris.”
“You sent Dad the third result for scary rattlesnake on Google images,” Chris says, his tone deeply accusatory. Eddie is so fond of his kid.
He also takes the opportunity to steal his phone back and shove it in his pocket. Far, far away from a teenager who occasionally decides Eddie's privacy is worth less than nothing. The only reason he doesn't snoop more, Eddie is almost certain, is because he doesn't really care about what his boring old dad has going on.
“Y-yeah,” Buck agrees.
“You and I both know you can be more creative than that.”
“Oh, he's plenty creative.” Eddie stabs one of his own peas.
It's a mistake, because he's chewing when Buck says, “He’s only afraid of big snakes.”
I was tagged by my lovelies @eddiesstabwound and @soupfic so have a few more words of barbossa wedding fic
Eddie caught his eye as they crossed paths to grab their gear and his face lit up, the crease between his brow smoothing out only for the corners of his eyes to crinkle.
"Hey," he said, and Buck heard 'I love you.' "What were you and Chim talking about?"
"You," said Buck, which wasn't technically a lie. "What were you and Hen talking about?"
"You," said Eddie, which, Buck supposed, also wasn't a lie.
They knocked shoulders as they clambered into the engine together and sat across from each other, legs mingling. The others filed in, Hen and Ravi and Harry, while Buck and Eddie sat, gazes locked, lips flirting with smiling.
"Okay you two," Hen said, taking her place next to Eddie. "I know you're excited but it is past midnight and nobody wants to deal with workplace PDA today."
"What did we do?" Buck said, and Eddie added, "We're just sitting here."
np tagging @zinnydark @damnit-buck @iwasraisedfromperdition and @sinnabonka
man probie buck is so precious to me. this half-feral kid who's overly competent at some things (ready for calls in any weather, can identify every insect species native to LA and then some, drives the rig at the end of long shifts when everyone else is dead on their feet) and sometimes slinks into the loft with wide eyes asking if someone can explain what their health benefits are and what star trek is and if you can put your address on record if you technically haven't signed a lease but a guy you met at the bar when you first came to LA totally said that you could crash at his bros' place for as long as you want. this kid who looks at all of you like you're the coolest people ever and who deflects any question about himself into getting your life story somehow and gets his first ever credit card four months into his placement and insists on getting the entire station coffee on him, so proud of himself. who lives and breathes this job but also doesn't seem to have any concept of what it takes to actually stay here, who gets his shield with a kind of startled delight, like he never actually thought he'd make it.
buck pouts as chim and hen both look at him incredulously. chim is leaning back in his seat with a smirk already painting over his face, all easy teasing. hen has that mix of fond exasperation and worry that she sometimes gets around him, the one that bobby shares, sometimes. it's weird, being worried about. he hasn't really had anyone worry about him this much since maddie, and he hasn't decided if he likes it yet. sometimes, it's nice. other times, it feels like ants crawling under his skin.
right now, he shrugs. "i just never needed one, i guess."
hen tilts her head. "how the hell did you manage to get to LA without a credit card?" she asks.
buck looks at her for a moment, figuring out if she's actually asking. she's not, probably. most people aren't.
"how the hell are you living in LA without a credit card?" chim asks, which is a question that he probably does mean. "you can't get a fuckin' closet around here without having to show your credit score."
buck shrugs again, not really knowing what they're expecting. "derek said it was fine," he says. "like, it's not like i signed anything."
that gets him more incredulous looks. "you didn't sign-" chim's smirk has been replaced by something more concerned, which buck decides he does not like. "buck. where the hell are you even living?"
"derek's couch," the duh is implicit.
"his couch?"
"it's fine, it's a pullout."
hen has taken her glasses off, and buck watches her and chim share a Look with something uncomfortable churning in his stomach. they look at him like he's a kid, and he doesn't know how to tell them that it's not like he doesn't know that you're supposed to rent a proper place, with a contract and stuff, in theory. it's just that-- well. he didn't know if he was gonna make it through the academy, and what's the point of signing a lease when you might just blow off into the next state in a few weeks anyways?
he doesn't say that, because that would be a bummer. he used to think that his parents' whole don't complain so much, evan and why do you insist on being so negative stuff was bullshit, but he found out pretty quickly on the road that they were actually right -- nobody likes a bummer.
instead, he just tilts his chair back, bounces his knee a little. "do i need a credit card?" he asks.
chim looks like he's about to make another snarky remark, but hen thinks about it seriously, which is why she's buck's favorite. "i think it's a good idea, buckaroo," she says, earnestly enough that buck takes her seriously. "always a good idea to build up your credit score as early as you can, if you ever want to rent somewhere, or make a big purchase."
"not that you're gonna get an actual landlord not named derek to accept any applications anytime soon," chim adds, all casual teasing again. "you know, with your baby credit score and your probie salary. better hope your boy doesn't kick you off his couch."
buck flutters his eyelashes at him. "are you saying that you wouldn't let me crash on your couch, howard?" he asks, sugar sweet. chimney kicks the legs of his chair, and buck yelps and windmills to grab the edge of the table, kicking at chimney's ankle as he does.
"if either of you hits me, i'm going to tell bobby," hen threatens.
"what did you want to tell me?" bobby asks, coming out of his office. chimney and buck both freeze, tilting their chairs down to sit like adults. bobby looks over the three of them, raises an eyebrow. buck makes his eyes as big as possible.
"nothing, cap," all of them say in unison, chim half-snickering, hen hiding a smile beneath a palm, buck blinking innocently at him.
bobby stares at them for another moment, but before he can say anything, the alarms ring. they blink at him, he blinks back, sighs, then starts towards the rig.
buck follows, reveling in the sound of footsteps around him, all of them in unison. as he pulls on his turnouts and shoves himself into the engine, he turns to chim and hen.
"hey," he says a little hesitantly, as the engine begins to shake and move out of the station. "if i bring my stuff..."
chimney bumps their shoulders together. hen pats his knee.
"sure, probie," chim says, easy as anything, easier than anything buck's asked for, in a while. "we can help you get baby's first credit card."
Tagged by the lovely @soupfic (and their hothotHOT snippet of the day), so here's some more of Buck's Personal Saw Trap™️:)
Buck can't say there's much he missed about his childhood, but her pot pie is one of the few things his mom can cook with Bobby-level quality. He's just about to ask her for the recipe when his father speaks up first.
"I really will miss your cooking, Margaret. You've outdone yourself tonight."
Buck's spoon scrapes against his near-empty bowl. Right. With all the worry about the reunion, Buck had forgotten his parents were doing the opposite. He thinks maybe Maddie did, too, judging by the way she freezes while ripping up more chicken for Nash.
"Oh, Phillip," Margaret sighs, not angry, just...sad.
The rest of the table finds great interest in the bottom of their bowls. But Buck's never been one to leave well enough alone. "S-So, um. When is...when's that happening? Officially?" Buck stutters out. He can't look at either of his parents when he asks. Across the table, Chris gives him a grim sort of look. At the same time, Eddie's knee bumps against his.
"Soon, I think," Margaret says quietly. "Once we can sell the RV, it will be easier for the lawyers to split our assets."
"Does the rest of the family know?" Maddie's ask is much less tentative, but Buck can hear the tremor in her voice.
"Not yet." Phillip answers. "We thought it might be better if we waited until after this week to break the news."
"Why?" The question leaves Buck's mouth before he can think better of it. "Sorry. It's just...does it really matter? When you've hardly heard from any of them since Daniel?"
Both of his parents flinch at the name, and Eddie's leg presses against his more insistently.
"Why would you think that, Evan?" Margaret's thin eyebrows crease together. "They're your fathers' family. Of course we hear from them. Usually just around birthdays and Christmases, but—"
"Oh," Buck swallows. "I didn't know."
The only family members Buck remembers seeing as a child come from two small branches. His grandparents came around every other Christmas until they died when he was eight. Then, all that was left was an aunt, uncle, and an older cousin that lived a few streets away. Aunt Barbara and Uncle Jimmy died a few years back, too, but he didn't make it to either funeral, due to the ladder truck bombing and Eddie's shooting, respectively. They weren't super close, but they were always polite enough to him.
Polite, but not familial.
"Yes, well." Margaret says, clearing her throat and the remnants of her bowl. "They kept their distance after..."
"Mom," Maddie accuses, devastated. Her voice and eyes are watery. None of Buck's born family can bear to look at him.
All at once, it clicks. "They wanted to hear from you, and not from me." Buck states, and knows it's a fact. "Right." He sniffs. "And they feel how, exactly, about me coming to this reunion thing?"
under-discussed opportunity for off-screen development is the fact that they tell us buck called their parents to inform them of doug's passing because it raises so many more questions than it answers... when was the last time buck or maddie talked to them.... did they know she was living in LA.... that she left doug.... did she have to ask them at some point in her trip across country to not tell doug where she was if he came looking for her.... how much did buck have to explain and how hard did he work to keep as much of it as close to his chest as possible because maddie was still in the hospital and he didn't want to take her story out of her control.... do you think that the conversation crosses a line past tense and buck blames himself in the aftermath for why they don't show up to check on maddie and help her in her recovery.... does the case reach national news and if so how do the people who hid a son from the world for 30 years cope with the people in their community getting this window into a different major family trauma... literally the possibilities here are endless for buckley family weirdness and i am chewing on all of it....
"You make it sound like something out of a soap opera, Evan. Like your sister was in hiding from her husband."
"She was," Buck says. He doesn't have to lift a hand to cover his face against the grimace deepening the tension headache he's been suffering from for what feels like days, now. He's already on the floor, an elbow propped on a knee, and his face half buried in a palm so he doesn't have to look around at Maddie's apartment-- everything carrying the faint aura of having been searched over by cops. "She wasn't safe with Doug, that's what I said. That's why this happened."
"I just…" she makes a sound that sends him reeling back in time, makes him smaller, makes him young, "I wish you would just be more clear. You're being so vague-- Maddie is safe and Doug is dead, but what actually happened?"
"I already explained," he grits out, presses the heel of his hand more firmly into his left eye where a steady, sharp pain just won't quit. "Maddie filed for divorce so Doug was able to find her. He kidnapped her, Mom."
"I think what your mother means," Phillip speaks up, his voice steady through the phone, just with slightly more distance between him and the receiver, "is that we don't understand how it ended with Maddie okay and Doug dead. We're confused about what happened in between. How does something like that happen if he was-- Well, he took her somewhere I presume, but--"
"He took her somewhere secluded," Buck says, "specifically to kill her."
He's blunt, perhaps too much so, but he's been on the phone with his parents for longer than he's spent on the phone with his parents maybe ever, and he has this stabbing headache and he still hasn't gotten enough sleep, even though he had the place to himself last night.
Eddie had to pick Buck up from the hospital after he finally got Maddie settled, after she made it clear that dragging her away from Chimney would do more harm than good for both of them. Eddie had to pick Buck up because not only was his car not there, but also by that point his vision was tilting and his level of exhaustion would have made him a drunk driver in all but name.
Buck's insistence on coming back here to where his car is parked and he could pack some of Maddie's things up for her rather than taking the offer of Eddie's couch, however, means that he has to be here. In this place. Blood on the concrete just beyond the door.
"Evan," she says his name in the tone of an admonishment, an old familiar adage on the lips of Margaret Buckley.
"He did. That's what happened. I don't know what you want me to say."
"Don't-- You don't have to be angry," she sounds weepier, now, with a thickness to her voice. "My daughter was almost-- You could be kinder, how you explain it."
"Well, you didn't like when I was being vague," Buck mutters. He's not sure whether they hear him or not, a murmur of their own just barely audible on the other end of the line.
They've always been like that, to a certain extent. The tendency to lean on each other, to rely on each other, even when doing so meant neglecting being there for their children. Buck has never quite been able to wrap his head around it, given the fact that they can be good with kids when they want to be. They're teachers, so it must be something about their kids specifically.
"How did it get this bad?" Margaret pleads. "We knew he wasn't right for her, but to be that violent? To actually hurt her?"
"We couldn't have known," Phillip says, clearly for her benefit, once again, rather than Buck's.
Buck who was the one Maddie came to when she finally got out. Buck who chased her halfway across the state when it all went wrong. Buck who watched Chimney nearly bleed out beneath his hands one minute and held Maddie's own collapsing body in his arms the next.
They couldn't have known? They couldn't have seen it? This is the thing that really breaks him, on the floor of the kitchen so he doesn't have to look at the living room where he found her abandoned phone and wallet, where he realized what had happened, when he recognized that it was coming to pass, the very thing he knew-- the whole damn time-- was the greatest thing to fear.
"You could have," he tells his parents. "You should have. You should have known."
"You blame us?" Margaret, still crying, asks. "We didn't even know she was in California. With you. Our own children, not bothering to keep us in the loop--"
"You took yourself out of the loop!" Buck exclaims, something like bitter laughter coloring his breath. "You cut her off the second she got engaged! I mean, I know-- I-- I know that Doug was a master manipulator. Men like him always are, right? It's the reason I didn't get to talk to my sister for three years. But he didn't even--" another bark of laughter, "have to lift a finger with you two! You took yourselves out of the equation without any interference. He would've killed her. He almost did. She was-- she was bleeding so much--"
"Stop! Stop it," she cries. "Why must you make everything so much-- so much scarier? Why do you have to embellish like that? With the violence of it?"
"Did you think it wasn't violent?" Buck questions in disbelief. "He wouldn't be dead if she hadn't had to protect herself like that. He made it so that only one of them was going to walk away and all that matters is that it was her. How would you prefer I explain that?"
"Oh, oh, I just can't. I can't with you. Not right now. You take bad situations and you make them so big, Evan. You make everything so much bigger than I know how to carry and I just can't-- Phillip will you--"
The fumbling of the receiver, crackling with movement, and their voices are less hushed this time but he can't make out what they're saying all the same. She's walking away, which he should have expected, but his chest clenches with a searing guilt to match that in his head.
They'll never come, now, even if Maddie were to ask. He's ruined it for her, for all of them, because there's no chance that their mother is getting herself together quickly enough to be here and be a support system. That's just not how Margaret Buckley works. She breaks down easily and builds back up with so much effort, so much time.
Give me time, she always begged of him when he got on her nerves and drove her to crawl back into bed in the middle of the day. Give me space, Evan, please.
"I wasn't trying to make it…" he trails off, when he hears Phillip raise the phone to his ear, the noise shifting and changing now that he's no longer on speakerphone. "I just didn't want you guys to find out from-- the news, or something. I thought it would be better coming from me."
Phillip hums out a sound of understanding, or maybe just acknowledgment. The room is spinning again and Buck should go back to sleep. He really shouldn't drive himself to the hospital like he was planning, but maybe Eddie would be willing… if he asked…
"I thought it would be better," he repeats, "coming from me."
"Well, son," his father sighs, "I suppose I can appreciate that you believed that."
we talk a lot about a version of buddie who are so married, right? how they’re basically husbands and once they get together, it’ll be a race to buy the ring and pop the question first. but what about a version of eddie who is terrified of that? an eddie who loves buck, more than anything in the world, but who has married his best friend once before. he knows how this goes and it doesn’t end well.
sure, they’ve lived together before. they’ve worked together for years. they know each other sometimes better than they know themselves, but they’ve only been dating a month—maybe two. buck doesn’t want to waste any more time, he wants to make it official. they’re best friends and they’re in love and buck wants that last name already. but eddie has been in love with his best friend before and it ruined them. there were extenuating circumstances back then, pressure from a teen pregnancy and a deeply catholic community, but who’s to say that marrying eddie—tying their lives together in the face of God and the law—won’t push buck away?
he knows it won’t. realistically, eddie doesn’t think there’s anything he can do that would push buck away. they’ve been through too much, already taken so long to get here, but that what if still hangs over eddie’s head. he just doesn’t want to rush. doesn’t want them to get ahead of themselves, even though he’s so sure of buck, the two of them together. he wants to enjoy the dating part. wants to take it slow and bask in the now before they commit to the forever.
so when buck asks, eddie doesn’t say no, exactly, but he still panics. throat still closes up, heart racing, and he can’t look at buck as he tells him not yet. he is so, so scared that buck will hear it as a no anyway, because he knows buck’s past and he knows buck’s fears and eddie doesn’t want to lose him. losing buck would kill eddie, now that he has him. and that’s what he’s trying to prevent! so he says not yet, as delicately as he can and he waits to see if he’s just ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him. then buck kisses him, tells him the ring isn’t going anywhere and neither is he. that buck can wait as long as eddie needs because he knows—they both know—in the end, it’s them.
hen tilts her head at him, putting down the child-sized slide in his backyard. "a bit late for that, buckaroo," she says. "you can't return a kid the same way you can return backyard toys."
buck looks at her with a kind of wild look in his eyes, a sort of how the hell did i get myself into this that makes hen's heart twinge, just a little.
"no, i--" he hesitates, looking around. the backyard, with the weights taken off to the side, replaced with an inflatable pool and a swing set and all manner of children's toys. "i mean, i just-- it feels unfair, that it's me."
hen leans her hip on the fence, watching him. there's a sort of frantic energy to him that has clung to the edges of his eyes ever since the hospital, the elevator, his pants soaked in eddie's blood as he held his hand. or maybe before that, when hen had shaken her head at eddie over a set of crumpled bodies and then followed his gaze to buck's hands wrapped around a small figure, holding him like he doesn't know what else to do.
"it's unfair that it's not them," hen acknowledges. "but they mentioned you in their will, didn't they? they trusted you."
buck snorts. "yeah," he says, then, in a lower voice-- "if i had a nickel for every time..." hen, wisely, decides not to pursue that. "but they weren't actually gonna let me-- if it weren't for the fact that there was nobody else--"
"but there was nobody else," hen interrupts him, because she can see the spiral beginning in his throat. "so it's you."
"how did you and karen know?" buck asks her. "that you could-- that you were ready?"
hen thinks about her baby, her babies, both the ones that are with her now and the ones that aren't. the long nights, the research, the talks that ended in tears or furious whispers or distances that felt too far to breach, sometimes. sometimes she looks at denny and thinks about what a miracle it is that he's here. sometimes she looks at mara and wonders at her own selfishness, for being so glad to have her, even though it meant so much suffering had to happen.
she looks at buck, and says: "we didn't. we decided that we wanted to build this life, that's all. the ready part comes afterwards."
buck absorbs that, and she can see the little furrow of his brows that means that he's carving her words onto his heart. he comes over next to her, leaning on the fence close, shoes knocking together. he leans his curls on her shoulder, shuffling down to fit. she lets him, because he was once this lanky kid who watched her put an iv in like she was pure magic, and the awe has never quite left his eyes when he looks at her.
"i feel like-- i was ready to let go, you know?" he murmurs, voice soft between them. "like you said: donor, not dad."
hen nods, cheek brushing against his curls. she remembers that conversation, the satisfaction of being able to focus on his problems, to provide a solution that she didn't have in her life, back then. she should've known that life would turn out far stranger and more complicated than her pithy phrase.
"and now you might be both," she finishes his thought.
a long exhale. "and now i might be both."
when harry had called buck theo's dad, hen had been the only one to correct him-- his biological father. she had remembered that conversation, then. how hesitant buck had been. her own reservations.
"do you want to be both?" she asks, because that part is important, too.
"yes-- no--" buck shakes his head. "i don't know."
hen thinks about buck bringing theo down from the electrical tower. he'd been charmed by theo, but only in the same way all of them were, only in the easy way buck connected to any kid on a call. it wasn't an instant connection or a biological imperative, just buck being buck, empathizing with a kid a little too hard, loving a little too easily.
love, for hen, has always been series of choices. sometimes easy, sometimes difficult. it's the nature of existing the way she does, in the world that she has to navigate. she's had years to come to terms with it. buck doesn't quite have that kind of time.
"that's okay," she says, still. "you don't have to know right now. this isn't-- it doesn't have to be permanent."
"i don't want to make the wrong choice," buck says, quietly. "i don't want him to ever-- feel like i did. unchosen."
hen nudges him with her elbow, making him wiggle a little. "you won't," she says, confident. "you know why?"
buck raises his head a little to look at her, all little-kid curiosity. she smiles.
"because there's only one thing you have to do to not mess this up," she says. "and you're there already."
buck blinks at her. "doing all the paperwork properly?"
hen laughs. shoves him a little, looks over all the things that buck has prepared for a little boy he'd been ready to let go of, if that's what he needed.
Fuck it Friday Some Words Saturday Several Sentence Sunday My God it's Monday
Tagged by @mihidecet @sunflowerbuckleys @soupfic and @eddiesstabwound sorry guys I've been busy and didn't really have anything new to post anyway, but I got a bit down today before I lock in on my plant families report this evening, so here's. Something! From my I Know The End sequel. Eddie's in El Paso and he's not having a good time.
"Can I ask something?” Hen adds eventually.
“Shoot,” Eddie says.
“Why didn't you call Buck?” she asks, and Eddie's heart starts racing again. “I mean, I'm happy to help you out any time, but usually… he's your guy, you know?”
“Um, yeah, he– he is. But you're a parent, so–”
“Eddie,” she says again. “We’re done lying, right?”
Eddie takes a shaky breath. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “We… we're not really talking right now.”
“I figured. He's been all mopey since he got back. More so even than during the whole beagle incident. You wanna tell me why?”
“Has he… said anything about it?”
“Nothing. Didn't even tell us why he came back early.”
Of course he didn't. He wouldn't. Because it would be revealing that Eddie is… he still hasn't put the word to it. Hasn't felt like he had time to focus on all that. Regardless, Buck wouldn't do that to him. Which means he's sitting there in LA, in Eddie's house, dealing with it all completely alone. The thought makes him sick. Sick enough to–
“We slept together.” He blurts it out before he has time to second guess himself. “Uh, my first night here. We– he kissed me and– and I kissed him back and then we… and I don't know, I think I'm… well, but then when I woke up, he was gone and now he won't talk to me, so… I don't know.”
“Oh,” Hen says. “That's big. Have you… have you told anyone else?”
“No.”
“Well, thank you,” Hen says. “For trusting me enough to tell me.”
“I don't even… like I don't have a word yet.”
“That's okay. You'll find one eventually,” she assures him. “Or you won't. And that's okay too.”
“Thanks,” he breathes. Swallows hard. He doesn't feel better, really. But different maybe. Lighter. Just a bit. “Can you check on him for me?” He asks thinly. “Let him know I told you, so he… he doesn't have to protect me anymore. He should have someone to lean on.”
“Of course,” she says, warm and gentle. “And you can call me any time, okay? You need someone to lean on too.”
“Thanks, Hen.”
“It's gonna be okay,” she says again. “It is. Just keep letting people in, alright? Keep just… letting yourself be a person.”
I'm not. Ugh, I'm struggling with this one, so I don't love any of this, but I'm tryingggg.
Not tagging anyone bc it's not even the weekend anymore lmao and I think everyone's been tagged already. If you wanna share something, though, just say I tagged you! I wanna see it anyway :)
feeling tender about the way Buddie approach each other's relationship with their parents.
Eddie doesn't try to get mad on Buck's behalf when Buck was venting after the disastrous dinner in s4, he doesn't add fuel to the already frantic frustration that Buck was feeling, but he does stay grounded that Buck doesn't need to apologize for speaking his feelings and truth to his parents. then when the Daniel reveal is done, Eddie once again says it's not Buck's fault that his parents decided what they did, but only after Buck shares that it's how he feels. and when the Buckley parents do come to the firehouse, it's implied that he told them good things about Buck (along with the team) but also waited to give Buck a heads-up so he could take a minute to decide what he wanted to do next. it's all simple and clear, and it's important that at no point was Eddie stirring Buck up more because he didn't need that. Buck didn't need someone to get mad on his behalf, in this scenario, Maddie already had that handled against their parents. what he needed was a place safe where he could pour out his frustrations and feelings and have some perimeter so it didn't flow out in a way he could gather himself back. Eddie becomes the calm shore that reminds Buck that the only option isn't a stormy sea.
In contrast, Eddie didn't have anyone getting mad on his behalf in s8. he was accepting forced calm as the only option, and Buck reminded him of the courage he needed to swim back out. because Buck doesn't tell Eddie not to be scared when Eddie talks about not having the job secured or Chris finding out about the Uber or missing out the chess tournament or the doubt of his cooking matching his mom's. instead, he tells him to do what he went there to do, go after what he actually wants, because courage isn't the absence of fear after all. it's choosing something above it. whether it's telling Eddie to Dad Up, assuring that a slow cooker recipe won't fail, laying out the facts that being able to face the consequences is less of a nightmare than Chris leaving, or challenging Eddie's parents' notion of not wanting to disrupt. do the damage and take the risk, Buck says, because Buck believes in Eddie's ability to figure it out once he meets the fear head-on. he doesn't just listen and sigh alongside Eddie, doesn't nod along and say he understands the dilemma. he offers action, tangible and unavoidable truth like a line back onto the ship that Eddie was doubting he'd drag down. Buck becomes the unrelenting wave that reminds Eddie that his ship just needed him to steer again.
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