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Oct 21, 2025

5+1 times you embarrass yourself | Part 1

5 times you embarrass yourself in front of Eddie, and 1 time it bites you in the ass. Somehow, it ends with you, Buck, and Eddie in a relationship? (featuring established Buck X Reader, eventual Buddie X Reader).

Word count: 28k+ Whole work tags: established Buck x Reader; Buddie x Reader; reader’s parent death; reader has dysfunctional parents; NSFW content (fingering, penetration); injuries; offscreen fire emergency; stalking; kidnapping; sexual assault; hospitalisation. Timeline: Vague season 6ish. Buck still lives in the loft. Read tags list for trigger warnings.

Due to tumblr’s 1000 blocks restrictions, the fic will be posted in parts. You can read the whole fic on AO3, or wait for updates on tumblr.

Somehow, it happens at the same time.

You stumble, and the door opens. Your eyes are closed, curled into yourself, prepared for the fall, but it doesn’t happen.

Strong arms catch you.

“Oh!” you squeak out.

“Um…” an unfamiliar, deep voice hedges.

You blink your eyes open, seeing a handsome, dark haired man stare at you, confusion clearly painted on his face.

“Um. Buck’s just—gone to get more drinks. Something stronger than champagne,” you say. It’s obvious—you’re at Buck’s place. This man probably came looking for him, evidently looking for the man in question, and wholeheartedly confused at the sight of a you that’s almost naked, save for your undergarments.

“Are you… okay?” he asks. His eyes roam around the entryway, gently guiding you into the apartment so he can close the door.

That’s fair. You had been getting cold, goosebumps breaking out on your arms. You inch a little closer to him, trying to relish in the warmth radiating from his body. “Yep! We’re celebrating! Kinda. He should be back soon.”

“What are you kind of celebrating?” the stranger seems amused, echoing your words.

“My mom died. I feel bad for thinking she deserves it, and I also feel bad because I miss my mom. Parents are—they’re complicated.”

“Yeah, they—”

The door opens again.

“Eddie? I saw your car—”

“Buck!” you cheer.

“Buck,” Eddie greets.

You let out a loud gasp, interrupting them. “Wait, you’re Eddie?!” You turn back to the man who still has warm hands on your bare arms. You throw yourself against him, embracing him like you’re long-lost friends and not strangers who have just met five seconds ago. “Aw, you are as pretty as Buck says you are. How’s Chris?”

Eddie hesitates. “Chris is—”

“Oooookay.” Buck, face beginning to redden, scoops you away from Eddie. “Let’s get you in some clothes.”

“And more drinks.”

“Yeah, I got that too.”

“Thanks, Buck. You’re the best,” you say. You pad upstairs to his bedroom. Or, try to. Somehow, again, you trip.

“Whoa, okay—!” This time, Buck is the one that catches you before you face-plant onto the stairs.

“The stairs hate me,” you whine, sullen. Your mood’s tanked, a complete 180 from the joy you had expressed not five seconds ago.

“No. No, they don't, honey.”

“Yes, they do. They don’t want me. No one wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Buck cups your face, leaning down to face you. Even drunk, he doesn’t want you to entertain that possibility.

“Uh.” Eddie clears his throat.

When you both look up from your drunken pity party, you see Eddie holding out his jacket in your direction.

“Since the stairs hate you,” he offers.

You sniffle as Buck takes the jacket, wrapping it around your body. “Thank you,” you say wetly.

Eddie nods in acknowledgement.

“Thanks,” Buck says. He rubs your arms, then leads you to the couch, depositing you on it.

“Drink,” you call out in reminder.

“Yeah, I’ll get them.” He meets Eddie’s eyes, chin gesturing towards the kitchen.

They head off, and you promptly fall asleep on the couch.

The second time you meet Eddie Diaz, you’re a little more clear-headed, though nursing a nauseating hangover. You groan before pasting on a smile. “Hi.”

“We’ve met,” Eddie says, thoroughly entertained by the turn of events. Not that he thinks you deserve what is sure to be a hangover of titanic proportions, but he’s tickled by your unlucky demise.

“So I’ve heard,” you say, scratching your nose in embarrassment. “Buck told me. Anyway, I promise, I’m a lot more composed than that. That was—humiliating. And I don’t really remember anything, so I do apologise if I said or did anything that might have offended you—”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t say anything.”

“At least there’s that.” You take a sip of your coffee, grimacing. You definitely need it to remain awake, but you’re sure it’s going to go through you in an unpleasant way.

“So, how’d you two meet?”

“Library,” you say. Both your gazes gravitate to Buck—he’s chatting to the cashier by the register, ordering food for the three of you. “I was working. He wanted some help on some parenting books,” you say absently.

“Oh,” Eddie says. There’s something swarming in his stomach at the thought of Buck in the library, lost, looking for books on how to raise a kid. For Chris.

You gasp, jolting in your seat.

Eddie startles, looking around the café wildly, uncertain of your reaction.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” you say, covering your mouth.

He visibly relaxes, sinking against his seat again. “No? He tell you to keep it a secret from me?”

“No. It’s library privacy policy. Patrons are entitled to privacy when it comes to their borrowing history. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

You nod, but your hand remains over your mouth. “Thank you.”

When Buck comes back, he sits beside you, one arm across the back of your chair. “They said it should only take another 20.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassures.

“But Chris—”

“Carla has him. And she’s sticking around for dinner if you two want to join.”

“I get to meet Chris?” you ask, uncertain. You didn’t think Eddie would be so willing to let strangers meet his son. Sure, you’re the partner of his best friend, but you’re essentially strangers. Hell, the first time you’ve met the guy, you were so drunk you didn’t remember. You think you behaviour screams irresponsible adult.

“Yeah. Any friend of Buck’s is a friend of Chris. He loves the guy.”

Buck ducks his head when you turn to look at him.

“You guys are so sweet,” you say.

Just as your food arrives, you feel your stomach gurgle. And not in the I’m starving way that you had been before you downed your coffee. It’s heavy, and you feel yourself begin to sweat.

“I… need to go,” you say quietly.

“What?” Buck furrows his brows, fork midway to his plate. “But the food just got here.”

“I know. You guys can have it. Or I can take it home. I just… I really need to go. I think it’s the hangover, I’m not really feeling well, and I—”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Eddie pipes in.

When you look at him, there’s genuine concern on his face, like he’s afraid he overstepped.

“What? No, you—” you start.

“I know Chris is my kid, and he’s technically Buck’s too, but it doesn’t have to mean anything if you’re not—”

“No, oh my God, that’s not—”

“I promise, I didn’t mean—”

“Guys, I think—”

“I need to use the bathroom!” you interrupt. Your face is hot. Your stomach is twisting. You avoid looking at either of the two men. And anyone else at the cafe. Just in case you were louder than necessary. You can’t really tell—your head is pounding. “I think mixing coffee with the hangover isn’t agreeing with my stomach, so I really need to use the bathroom. For a while. I was trying to make a tactful exit. It’s got nothing to do with meeting Chris, but I would love to. I’m so sorry.” Then you scamper off to the bathroom.

You’re sure he’s an incredibly kind man, but you never want to see Eddie Diaz again.

“Baby,” Buck coos, bundling you up. He drops onto your couch, you situated on top of him. He’s facing the muted TV screen, while your legs are sprawled atop the seat cushions. His hand rub your legs.

“Noooooo,” you bemoan. “Dinner can’t happen. I’m going to combust into flames if I see him again.”

“Well, it’s lucky we’re both firefighters,” Buck teases, kissing your cheek.

You groan even louder. “I can never show my face in public again.”

“That’s a shame. It’s a really pretty face.”

“We’ll have to be hermits for the rest of our lives. I’m not going back out there.”

Buck feels something flutter in his stomach at the mention of rest of our lives. “Yeah?” He clears his throat when it comes out hoarser than he'd like. “And rob the world of two pretty faces?”

You tuck your face into his neck. Lips against soft skin, kissing him; you feel him shiver against you. “My baby’s head is so, so big. We’re lucky you’ve got a good heart, and you’re not some weird narcissist with an ego and an ugly personality.”

“You can thank Maddie for that.”

You hum, not wanting to verbally disagree. You’re sure his sister did a great job raising Buck, but you know he’s who he is due to himself. Maybe Maddie planted the seed, but Buck watered and bloomed the flower in spite of everything.

“Eddie says it’s okay, you know. That you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Oh my God, you talked to him?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

You hadn’t seen him after you had run for the bathroom. When you were done in the cubicles, you stayed by the sinks, texting Buck, demanding that he send Eddie away with his share of the food before you came out again. And if Eddie hadn’t left, you would have stayed in the café’s bathroom until closing time.

Eddie, obviously, had other commitments with Chris, so left easily. No hard feelings, according to what Buck relayed.

But still. You’re mortified. You may not remember what happened the first time you met him, but you distinctly recall prancing around Buck’s apartment, practically naked, getting drunker and drunker as the night went on. If Eddie came after that, well. Wasted you is something you typically try to avoid, but finding out your mother had passed away brought up complicated and ugly feelings you would have rather forgotten.

“I don’t want you moping around by yourself.”

“I don’t mope.”

Buck says your name warningly. He’s serious, and he rarely is.

You sniff. You know his heart is in the right place. “Okay.”

Dinner passes without incident, surprisingly for you. Christopher Diaz in an angel that absolutely adores his father and worships Buck. Carla is a gorgeous soul that loves her boys so much. But not once do they make you feel like an outsider.

The adults are a little more tactful, but Chris tugging you over to the couch to play games to help “cheer you up” clues you into the real reason for the dinner. You know that Buck didn’t want you moping alone, but surmise that Buck managed to rope Eddie, Christopher, and Carla into this too.

But it’s fine. You look over Chris’ head, watching the three of them converse as they clean up the kitchen. And as if Buck notices your gaze, he looks up from the plate he’s clearing, sending you a smile.

You smile back, feeling warm.

A week later, and another one of Buck’s days off brings you grocery shopping with him. And Eddie. Running errands with Buck is a usual occurrence. Completing errands with your boyfriend and his best friend, however, is not. They’d been trying to re-sync their grocery runs for a while, apparently.

Buck presses a kiss to your forehead, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he trudges through the pantry aisle, leaving you with the other half of the list. And Eddie.

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “If I knew you were spending the day together, I wouldn’t have tried to do this with Buck.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure. “Though, it seems like this is your thing to do together, and I’m the one intruding.”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. “Not sure I want to know what that means.”

“It means, Diaz, one of us is third-wheeling and I’m pretty sure it’s not you.”

“No, c’mon—”

He’s interrupted by your name being called out. You whirl towards the voice, seeing—

“Oh no,” you let out.

“What?”

“My ex.”

“Oh. Awkward.”

“Extremely.” This is not your regular grocery store. You’re here because this is the one that Buck likes going with Eddie. Your local haunt did not include your ex, which was partly why you had chosen it when you first moved away from him.

“Hey!” Your ex, Ben, looms over you, pulling you into a hug that you make no effort to return.

“Hey,” you greet flatly.

“Did you move again? I don’t remember ever seeing you around here.”

“Um, no. I’m grocery shopping with my—boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Ben’s gaze slides toward Eddie, who’s awkwardly hovering near you. Ben sticks his hand out. “Ben.”

You’re quickly realising your mistake.

Eddie shakes his offered hand. “Eddie.”

You turn your head to meet Eddie’s gaze, mouthing please. You just need him to go along with it. The last thing you want is for Ben to overstay the chance meeting any further. Especially if Buck is going to come back with his share of the shopping and you’ve not started on your half.

Eddie has a tight smile on his face as he lets go of Ben’s hand.

You surreptitiously inch closer to Eddie’s side, and his arm easily slings over your shoulders. You definitely owe him one.

“How’s your mom?” Ben asks.

“She’s dead.” You paste on a smile.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. I figured. You weren’t at the funeral.”

“I thought—I mean, no one told me,” he says, defensively.

“Yeah. That tends to happen when no one wants to tell you things.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Ben asks, like he’s the poor victim of a wrongful grudge; like you should have forgiven him by now.

You blink at him. “Uh—yeah, dude. That’s what happens when you sleep with someone’s mom.”

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters under his breath. His hand squeezes your shoulder. There’s a concerned furrow between his brows. Parents are complicated, you had said. There’s complicated, and then there’s this, he thinks. A ‘kind of celebration’ seems ill-fitting and apt, all at once.

Ben’s eyes narrow at Eddie, attention drawn onto him. It makes something in you flare up—Eddie doesn’t need it, but you want to protect him from Ben and what experience tells you can be sharp, harsh words. “How long have you been seeing him for? Is he why you didn’t return my calls?”

“Are you stu—serious? Are you serious?” you ask.

Eddie ducks his head, clearing his throat to cover what you think sounds suspiciously like a laugh. His face is smoothed out when he looks up at Ben. “Come on, dude. I’m pretty sure your calls haven’t been going through for a different reason.” Eddie wouldn’t blame you if you were either ignoring them, or had already blocked Ben’s number.

Ben scowls at him. “Butt out, Edward. Mind your fucking business.”

“It’s Eddie. And it is my business. I’m literally the boyfriend.”

You suck in a breath, covering up your reaction by stepping forward. Eddie’s hand grazes against your arm as the weight slides off. “I think you should leave us alone. I don’t really want to talk to you.”

“You and your grudges.” Ben rolls his eyes. “You don’t even like your mom. Even before all of that happened. But no—everything always happens to you, and you’re always the victim, and it’s always someone else’s fault.”

“Go to Hell, Ben.”

“What happened to needing me? What happened to being desperate for me? You used to be all over me—” He grabs your arm when you try to walk away from his tirade.

“Get off—”

“Back off.” Eddie wrenches the guy away from you, standing between you and Ben.

Your heart thuds in your chest.

Ben’s gaze flickers between Eddie, and you behind him. “Enjoy the sloppy seconds. You’ll get bored, sooner than later.”

Eddie reaches behind him, his hand taking a hold of your wrist, taking a step backwards towards you. “Go fuck yourself, actually.” Without waiting for a response, he marches you both through the aisles, wounding through them until you lose sight of Ben.

“Sorry,” you finally say. “Sorry about saying you were my boyfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence as he lets go of your wrist. You pretend to investigate the shelves.

“Does Buck know about him?” Eddie asks.

“That he’s here? Probably not. That I have an ex that slept with my mom? Yeah. That was a third date story. Lucky you for finding out now.”

“Seems like a piece of work.”

You snort. “Yeah. Eight months of him on his best behaviour, until I got comfortable enough to let him meet my parents. It was like a flip switched, and I had no idea who this new person was.”

“How long ago was that?”

Taking a bottle of condiment of the shelf, your eyes scan over the ingredients on the back. “Two years ago, maybe? Really did a number on my ability to trust in potential partners.”

“At least you met Buck.”

You smile. “Yeah. It helps that my competition just died.”

He chokes on a sharp bark of laughter. “Jesus.”

Silence lapse between you two again.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s—yeah. I’m okay.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You look up at him, seeing concern in his eyes. You shake your head. “No. He—he was mean, sometimes, but he never got physical like that before.”

“That’s the first time?”

“Yeah. He’s—mad, probably. I don’t know. I was fine forgetting about him.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Hey, there you guys are.” Buck’s voice pops in. His basket jostles, one of his arms resting on Eddie’s shoulders. “Did you even look for anything?” He eyes both your empty baskets.

“We got distracted. Funny story, actually,” you say. “You remember Ben?”

Buck frowns. “The one that slept with your mom?”

You nod. “He’s here, by the way. I may have told him Eddie was my boyfriend to get away from him.”

The only response is Buck laughing.

“Stop that. Stop laughing.” You, yourself, are trying not to laugh, attempting indignation at the situation. Trying to find solidarity in Eddie proves futile. Eddie has his lips pressed together, looking everywhere but you and Buck.

You feign stomping away, but really, you just need to get the grocery shopping done and get out of here. Hopefully without ever seeing Ben again.

“You’re always in situations,” Buck says between chuckles. He easily catches up to you with long strides.

“Me? Says the firefighter that’s always in situations.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you and Eddie say at the same time.

“Hah! See?” You share a fist bump with Eddie. “Situations. Eddie works with you and he still agrees with me.”

“That’s not fair.”

You look down at your list as Buck and Eddie continue bickering. Lettuce. Cucumbers. “Did you get the juice?” You start rifling through Buck’s basket.

“No, that was on yours.”

“Oh. It’s not written here, but I can get it.” You write out orange juice before you can forget.

“You’re in as many situations as I am, though,” Buck explains to Eddie. “We have the same calls.”

“I handle them better than you do,” Eddie says.

“He does,” you agree.

“You’re not even there,” Buck exclaims. How did he turn into the one being made fun of when it started with you?

“No, but I get enough texts about it.” You clear your throat, doing your best Buck impression. “Oh my God, Eddie lifted me up the wall today. The harness was so slack—he did all of the work. Some girls were flirting with Eddie and—”

“Ooookay!” Buck encircles his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your lips to silence you. He snatches the list from between your fingers. “I’m going to do the rest of the shopping. See you. Love you.” He kisses your cheek and runs off.

You turn to Eddie, still grinning. His cheeks are red. “I told you I was third-wheeling you guys.”

Your hips move against his hand, his fingers buried inside you. Bitten off gasps as you curl forwards, your forehead against his shoulder.

Buck hums, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “There you go.”

“Buck,” you whine.

He shushes you, even though he shifts, fingers moving in the exact right way that hits your—

“Ah, Buck, yes yes, there.”

“There?”

Even though you can’t see his face, you’re so sure there’s that smug little smirk on his face.

“Oh, please,” you beg. Your arms encircle his broad shoulders, trying to give yourself more leverage to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Please what, baby?”

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“I am inside you.”

You whine, shaking your head. “I need your cock. Please.”

“You will, sweetheart. Just want you to come on my fingers, first. Get you all nice and ready for me.”

You let out something between a moan and another noise of protest. He had been quick to realise you liked coming even before he even got his cock in you. And who was he to say no to that, even with your impatience?

“That’s it. I got you.”

You know you’re straddling the line, hips moving at their own pace. Buck uses his other hand to lift your head, lips against your neck, kissing, sucking. You moan, feeling yourself clench around his fingers.

“C’mon, beautiful. I know you want to. I know you’ve been thinking about me filling you up all day.”

“Ohhh, Buck, yes, please. Please please.”

“Just come for me first, baby. Then I’ll give you what you want.”

There’s a sound in your throat, high and reedy and you feel it build in your stomach. You reach down, providing additional stimulation.

Buck nips at your neck, and you moan, grinding down into both yours and his fingers.

“That’s it, baby.”

You clench tightly around his fingers as you come. “Buck, Buck, yes yes, yes, oh my God, I’m coming.”

“There you go. God, you’re so beautiful,” Buck murmurs against your neck, his fingers still pumping inside you. An arm secured around your waist, weighing you down into his fingers. Your hips rolling, drawing out your orgasm.

You whine, gasping. You’re not sure who moves first, but your lips are crushed together. Wet, open-mouthed kisses. Your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. You’re boneless with his fingers crooked inside, repetitive motion of fingers curling back and forth, rubbing that spot inside you.

“Buck,” you whimper. You bite at his neck, your form of retaliation to how sensitive he’s making you feel.

“I got you,” he says, chuckling at your defiance. It’s cute.

“Need you. Please.”

Buck removes his fingers from inside you, and you blindly reach down to jerk his cock. Once, twice.

Buck moans into another kiss, feeling a small semblance of relief. He’s so desperate to be inside you. His hands on your waist, effortlessly lifting you. Your hand guiding his length to your opening, slick and warm.

A slow, tortuous slide. You’re both moaning again—it feels heavenly, to finally have him inside you. He bottoms out. You rest your forehead against his cheek, slowly rolling your hips against him.

“Baby.” Buck’s fingers dig into your skin.

You need him, you want him to leave imprints of himself across your flesh. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too.”

“Fuck me, Buck.”

And he does. Arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as he fucks up into your tight, warm heat. You’re gasping, breathless and so, so full of him. The only thing you can do is hold on.

Gasps, higher pitched noises released between you. He loves every one. He groans, low in his throat, forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“Hey, Buck—oh shit—”

“Eddie—!”

“Oh my—”

You didn’t even hear the door open. You instinctively turn towards the new voice—Eddie’s voice—but Buck’s hands grip your waist, rolling you both until your back meets the couch cushions. He’s looming over you, hiding you from view.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—!” Eddie immediately pivots, ducking behind the wall of the entryway.

You and Buck are left staring at each other with wide-eyes. He climbs off of you as you harmlessly slap at Buck’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, do you guys have keys to each other’s places?” you hiss.

“Well, yeah.” Buck scrambles to get his clothes on. “One minute, Eddie!” he calls out.

“No!” Eddie yells back. “It’s okay! It can wait until tomorrow!”

“Too late for that, buddy!” you pipe in. You pick up a shirt, slipping it on before finding your underwear. You tuck yourself under the lone blanket on the couch. Buck had suggested taking your activities upstairs. You, however… are now regretting not listening to him.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, again, loud enough for both of you to hear.

Buck presses a kiss to your forehead before he darts out from behind the floating stairs.

“I’m sorry, I should have called,” you hear Eddie say in a low voice.

Your head thumps against the couch.

You could suffocate yourself under the blanket. That would save you from the embarrassment. Excellent plan.

“What are you doing here?” you frown, jaw clenching, swallowing thickly.

“The hospital called me,” your dad says. He hovers near the door, having only taken a couple steps into the room. He doesn’t come any nearer; always distant.

You drop your head into a nod. “Emergency contact.”

“You forgot to update it.”

“Yeah. I did.” But you don’t even know who it would have been updated to. Your only other family is your father, even if he lives out of state.

The way he looks at you radiates disapproval.

“I didn’t end up here on purpose.” This time goes unspoken. You recall a previous hospital visitation from him in your teenage years, your mother oscillating between crying and screaming at you for your stupidity. How could you do this to me? You ungrateful child.

Your dad looks at you, weighing the world against what he sees. “I can’t tell with you, sometimes.”

Your eyes well with tears. You wonder what he sees. If he sees the same thing you do when you wake every morning, maybe that explains why he’s constantly disappointed.

You look away, staring at the blanket. “The doctors said I’ll be good to go tomorrow morning.”

“Good. I need to get back home. I travelled far to get here, you know?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“And you need to be more careful. Your mother is gone, now.”

“I know.”

“She wouldn’t like seeing you this way.”

“She wouldn’t care.”

And he doesn’t dispute it.

You let out a shuddering breath the same time the door closes behind him as he leaves. You lean into the pillows behind you, your good hand shakily covering your face as you cry.

You’re alone.

Tomorrow morning comes, and you’re released by the hospital. They sent you away with a sling for your fractured clavicle, and some ointment and additional dressing for the small burns on your side.

You know Buck’s a phone call away.

He’s triple texted you, and had attempted to call you once during the time of the incident, and another time whilst you were in the hospital. He still doesn’t know what happened. You hadn’t had a chance to call him, and no one else knew he existed in your life.

The phone’s pressed to your ear, the dial tone ringing.

“Hey.” He picks up after the third ring, voice breathless. “Are you okay? You disappeared.” There’s something cautious in his tone. You know you put it there.

Your last text to him was yesterday at the start of your lunch break. It wasn’t even a text—you laugh reacted to something that he had sent in the morning, intending to reply after getting your food. For all intents and purposes, you’ve ghosted him for 22 hours. You feel something in your chest squeeze.

“Can you come over? Or—or I can come over?”

“Are you okay?” he asks again, because you’re avoiding his question.

“I—no.” You suck in a breath. “Yes. Yes and no. There was a fire at work. I think the 133 got to us.”

“What? What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I just—I don’t know know if I want to be alone. My dad came by, in the hospital. He’s my emergency contact, so he’s the only person that knows what happened, and I just—”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll be there. Just sit tight.”

It simultaneously feels like the longest and shortest wait time. The drive between you isn’t a long one. Especially out of peak hour traffic, which it is, given that it’s almost 10 in the morning.

When you open the door, Buck cups your face between his palms, fingers ghosting over the bruises on your face. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you croak out. You tuck yourself against his chest, and his arms gingerly wrap around you. He’s scared to hurt you.

“I got you.” And it sounds like a promise.

You get deposited on the couch, and Buck tries not to, you know he tries not to, but he can’t help but hover. He’s essentially waiting on you, hand and foot.

“Babe,” you say, slotting a palm against his cheek. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I want to.”

“I know. But you don’t need to. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t hear from you,” he whispers, a soft confession.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I just… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if you were…”

“Running away?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m right here.” You place your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sometime later, he asks if Eddie can come by. “Chris is doing dinner with friends, apparently. Eddie wanted to hang but if we’re here, then maybe he can come here instead.”

This wouldn’t be the first time Eddie visited your apartment. Or Chris. Since the grocery store incident, you’ve started hanging out as the weeks went on. Most of the time, it’s the three of you. Buck, somehow, and yet predictably, doesn’t know how to separate his time off between his best friend and partner.

Grocery shopping remains a Buck and Eddie adventure, since you didn’t want risk running into Ben. But you still did other things—lazy movie nights, pizza parties, board games; one accidental sleepover at Eddie’s place. The crick in your neck told you that couch was not made for two people to fall asleep on.

You find your social circle is incredibly small outside of coworkers and work acquaintances. The camaraderie at your work doesn’t quite hold a flame to the bonds between the 118, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the occasional outing.

“Yeah. Two birds, one stone. I don’t want you to use your day off to babysit me.”

“Hey, no, I’m not babysitting. I would have wanted to be with you, anyway.” He crowds into your space, kissing your forehead. “Okay?”

“You’re sweet.”

Buck hums before he pecks your lips. “I’ll do dinner for you guys.”

“Check the fridge. You might need to buy extra stuff.”

“Alright. I’ll handle it. You sit here and look pretty. Hey, look, you’re doing great already.”

You can’t help the grin, pulling him in for another kiss. “Says the pretty boy.”

“We can both be pretty. Okay—when Eddie gets here, you stay. I’ll get the door.”

“But—”

“You. Stay.” He takes the remote from the coffee table and places it in your hand.

You drop it onto your lap and flip him off. You hear his delighted laughter in response as he busies himself.

Eddie gets here late afternoon, after he drops off Chris with his friends for dinner. True to Buck’s words, you remain on the couch as he gets the door.

You hear them murmur out greetings before Eddie walks over. He squeezes your good shoulder, depositing himself next to you. “You feeling okay?”

“Getting restless.” You hand the remote over to Eddie, setting down the book that you started reading after deciding that you were losing interest in staring at a screen for a few hours.

“Collarbone?”

“Mm. And a few burns. Racking up the scars count.”

“Might be catching up to us.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“I just want to say—if I was a betting man, I would be winning,” Eddie whispers, conspiratorially.

“What?” You perk up. It sounds like gossip—Buck gossip, to be specific.

“He just got a bit mopey about you suddenly ghosted him. I, of course, had your back. Said you wouldn’t do that to him. Something probably happened to keep you away. I was thinking work related, though, not ‘get yourself into hospital’ related.”

“Aw, Eddie. That’s—thank you for not thinking I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Hey. It’s my job to keep him in check for you.”

You lounge on on the couch for until Buck remembers that they need to change your dressing.

“Bath first, and then we’ll get it changed.” He inspects it, lifting up your shirt. Specks of blood and pus seep through. It’s still sore.

Despite your protests that you have working legs (you have a limp. It’s not terrible—you’ve sprained your ankle before), they get you to the bathroom. Your bedroom sits opposite it.

Eddie walks in first, perched on the edge of the tub. He turns the taps on, waiting for the tub to fill. “C’mon. Get your clothes off and get in the bathtub.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Are you propositioning me, Diaz?” Deflection. You’ve learned its the 118’s greatest tactic against traumatic, life-altering events. “While my boyfriend’s in the other room?”

“No—”

“Yes,” Buck calls out. He hovers by the entryway to the bathroom, arms full of laundry he rummaged through your room for. Apparently, you can’t do them yourself. “If it gets you in the tub and cleaned up, then yes. Eddie has my permission to do what he needs.”

You roll your eyes, but it carries no heat. “Fuck you, Buckley.”

“In six to 12 weeks. When you’re recovered.” That Goddamn impish grin takes over his face.

A beat. “You asked my doctor?!”

“So did you.”

“You freak.”

“You like it.”

“Guys.” Eddie clears his throat, busying himself with the taps. He feels warm. It’s probably the steam curling up from the water. And definitely not because he’s thinking about that time he accidentally walked into Buck’s loft when you two were on the couch. Doing… Nope, no sir. He’s not going there today.

“Sorry,” you say, biting down on the smile that seems to take over your face every time you see Buck smile like that.

“Bathtub,” Buck says, and his tone brooks no arguments. Again, his voice is unusually serious and you find that you can never really disagree when he’s in this mood. Maybe he’s picked up on it, and he’s doing it purposefully just to watch you fold. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“I can do it myself. You don’t—thank you, but you don’t really need to be in here, Eddie.” You turn to where Eddie’s perched on the edge of the tub, turning the taps off.

Eddie’s gaze flits from you, to Buck.

You follow his attention, and see the tail end of a nod.

“Fine,” Eddie relents.

“Are you serious?” you demand, gobsmacked. Your eyes are darting between Buck and Eddie. “Why are you acting like he’s the boss of me? You don’t need to check with him to see if I can take a bath by myself—”

“We’re just worried about you.” Buck tries to calm you down.

“Oh, like the both of you’ve never done something this before?”

“That’s why we know you’re being incredibly stubborn when you don’t need to be.”

“We’re going to be outside,” Eddie interjects, before it can turn into another childish bickering match. To be fair, he finds it wholly entertaining, but he came here to help. You quarrelling with each other isn’t helping. “And periodically checking in on you.”

You let out a weighted sigh, while maintaining eye contact with Eddie. Then very obviously roll your eyes, just to let him know of your displeasure. “Fine.”

Eddie shakes his head exasperatedly, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

Without further prompting, you unbutton your pants with one hand.

“Oop—that’s my cue.” Eddie pivots on his feet and beelines for the door immediately.

Buck drapes a fresh towel on the towel rack. “We’re right outside, okay?” And his voice is softer. Quieter.

“Okay.”

“Let us know if you need help.” His blue eyes are imploring as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Please.”

“Okay.” Your resistance deflates, thumping your head against his chest. He’s worried. He has every right to be, you think. If the roles were reversed, you’d want to do the same for him.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, with three check-ins from them, you’re done. It was like clockwork, and of course it was, because Eddie has a military background. It’s in the name that he’s militant about this kind of stuff.

“Buck, can you change my dressing?” You wander into the kitchen where you can smell him cooking.

He turns from where he’s stationed at the stove. “Eddie, can you take over?”

Eddie, who’s sitting at the counter space on his phone, looks up. “Uh—for the cooking?”

“No, don’t touch my cooking. For the dressing, Mr Medic.”

“Yeah, I can do that. C’mere.”

You draw closer to where he’s sitting, holding out the bag that you had been given on release, the ointment and dressing in there. When he takes it from you, you use your free hand to lift up your shirt. It sucks that you broke your clavicle on your dominant side. You think about trying to eat; you’d probably make a mess.

“Does it hurt?” Eddie asks, focused as he works.

“Kind of. Probably a four out of ten. Was at seven, before.”

“That’s good that it’s gone down. But you know it usually means you’re probably at a five or six?”

“But I said four.”

“People tend to downplay the pain chart.”

“Because it doesn’t really make sense. I don’t have a reference point for a 10.”

Quiet settles between you, and you focus on breathing, staring at a singular point on the wall as Eddie works. You can hear Buck clattering in the kitchen, and something soothes inside. You’re usually alone, but at this moment—right now, you’re not.

“Alright,” Eddie says. “Done.”

You lower your shirt. “Wow. You’re good at that.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Insane idea, but have you considered becoming a medic for the LAFD?”

Buck laughs from the stove.

“Funny. Real funny. I didn’t know you were dating a comedian, Buck,” Eddie says, shaking his head good-naturedly.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? One of the best.” Buck sounds smug. And happy.

“Thanks,” you say softly, and Eddie nods at you in response.

“Food’s ready.” Buck carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders, and one hand on Eddie’s where he’s sitting down.

“I can set up.” Eddie tries to rise from the chair.

“No,” you say, stopping him. “You’re a guest. My mom will probably haunt me if she found out I let guests do anything in my house.”

“Hey,” Buck interjects. “I’m a guest.”

“Eh. Debatable, darling.”

“See if I ever cook for you again.”

“You will. He will,” Eddie says. “It’s the same at mine.”

“How come I’m always exempt from the house guest rule?” Still, he ushers you away when you try to get the utensils from the drawers.

“It’s what you get for being a token white man,” you say.

Eddie snorts out a laugh while Buck lets out a faux wounded noise.

You open the fridge, getting the jug of water.

“Oh, hey, let me get that.”

“I still have one good working arm. And I’m not weak.”

“Of course not.” Eddie takes the jug from you anyway.

Buck pulls out a chair. “Sit,” he says pointedly to you.

“Yeah, yeah.”

After dinner and your painkillers, you’re knocked out on the couch. The painkillers probably made you drowsy. You wake to Buck crouching in front of you, gently stroking your hair as you get your bearings.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You make a sleepy noise.

Buck thinks it’s adorable. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

You’re about to ask him to stay, but it registers—we, he said. And if Buck is in front of you. Then.

You jerk up. “Sorry—” You let out a sharp hiss as pain shoots through your side and collarbone.

“Whoa, hey—”

“Careful—”

Eddie. You fell asleep on Eddie. Your head was in his lap. You let out a groan as both Eddie and Buck help you sit up. Eddie repositions your sling as Buck checks the dressing.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You needed it,” is all Eddie says.

Buck checks your ankle as well. “Alright. See you in 24 hours.”

Eddie gently pats your shoulder before he gets up. “See you. Look after yourself.”

“Bye, Eddie,” both you and Buck chorus.

Buck takes Eddie’s spot, letting you lean against him.

“You can’t stay?” you whisper, even though you know the answer.

“My stuff’s at home, baby. I’ll bring some over after my shift. That way I can stay next time.”

You snuggle against him, his lips pressed to your temple.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Read the completed fic on AO3.