Based on this request: Hi, thank you very much for writing my requests I have one more for you, one in which Buck and Eddie prepare a romantic and sensual bathroom bath for the reader, and the three of them enjoy the moment together, with smut if you're comfortable with that please
The bathroom had been a non-negotiable when you were all looking for a new place to live.
Chris had had his own list of demands for a new digs, but for you, a large bathroom with incredible water pressure, a giant tub, and a double sink vanity had been a must.
(Some of these requirements may or may not have stemmed from you knowing that Buck and Eddie liked to join in on your longer showers, which had been a tight fit - pun intended - with two beefy firefighters and you in the bathroom at Bedford Street. So really, you were thinking practically).
Today? You're not thinking about the bathroom. In fact, you're pretty sure you drive back home from work on autopilot with nothing on your mind.
You were exhausted - sleep had not come easily to you last night, and you had been bombarded with calls and appointments all day. The afternoon bottleneck traffic had just been the cherry on top of a pretty crappy cake.
You couldn't wait to face-plant onto the wonderfully comfortable yet sturdy bed that Buck had invested in for the three of you.
(Lord only knows how many bed frames an enthusiastic night has ruined.)
When you eventually pull into the driveway and enter the house, it's pretty quiet. You don't hear Chris' video games, nor do you hear your Buck and Eddie's playful bickering.
Despite previously wanting to sleep for hours, you pout a little, going from room to room in search of your family.
Finally, you creak open your favourite room of the house: the bathroom. You find Buck and Eddie in there, clothes rumpled and mouths pink with clear signs of a makeout, but then you're taken aback by the setup behind them.
The bathroom was dim with an appropriate amount of flickering candles (they were firefighters, first and foremost) as well as a tray with flute glasses, a bottle of champagne, and a bath bomb.
"What's all this?" You ask softly.
Buck responds by pouring you a glass of champagne, and pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Wanted to do something nice for you. Get undressed, baby."
You take a sip of the bubbly, grateful that you had such considerate boyfriends, and do as he said. You shed off your clothes, kicking it to the side, while you waited for them to join you in the same state of undress as you.
"Did you want us to join you?" Eddie questions.
"Yes, please." While there were a few days where you wanted your own time in the bath, today was not one of those days.
The two men nod and get naked slowly. You bite your lip as you see them bare, heat spreading throughout your body.
You drop the bath bomb into the water, swirls of pink, purple, and red painting the liquid. You dip a toe in the warm water, sensing two pairs of eyes on your back.
You sink into the bath, resting your head against the lip of the tub, lolling your head to the side so you could watch Buck and Eddie.
Eddie slips in behind you, bracketing your legs with his and allowing your back to rest against his chest instead of the chilly porcelain. Buck sits on the edge of the tub, watching with pupils so dark the blue of his eyes were barely visible.
Eddie lathers your shoulders and arms with body wash, the touch a sensual glide. After the soap is washed away, he proceeds to pepper kisses onto the clean skin, while Buck from his position, takes your face in his hands, capturing your lips with his.
Your eyes flutter closed in pleasure, feeling both of them overwhelmingly and beautifully everywhere.
Your bad day quickly evolves into one of your favourite nights, and you couldn't help but feel grateful that you had invested in this bathroom.
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.
Credits: PSD colouring by gloomglimmer. Template inspired by louestat. Textures by cavalierfou.
Read tags list for trigger warnings.
Due to tumblr's 1000 blocks restrictions, the fic has been posted in parts. You can read the whole fic on AO3.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 [COMPLETE]
Instead of focusing on the shit show that was the party at the Grant-Nash residence, your mind is preoccupied with whatever Hen and Karen were telling you to think about.
The three of you.
It’s somehow a weird notion, and somehow not.
Evidently, Buck, Eddie, and you have been a unit—you hang out; you’re all friends. That makes sense. The way that Hen and Karen were talking about it, though, made it seem like there was more to it.
And there can’t be.
Because it doesn’t make sense.
Maybe for Buck and Eddie.
But Buck’s under the notion that Eddie is straight, and you think it would be wholly unfair if Buck had entered a relationship with you if he had pre-existing feelings for Eddie.
Which. Well. You can’t really say he doesn’t. All you know is that Buck prioritises Eddie in a way that he doesn’t do for anyone else. Except maybe you. But you’re sure, when it comes to priorities, you exchange places with Eddie a lot.
It changes thing—the idea that someone else notices these things makes you think that they’re not just happening in your head. It’s not just an insecurity that festers inside of you, making you believe that you’ll always be the odd one out. You’re not quite a part of the family unit that Buck created for himself. Not really.
“What’s happening in that head of yours?” Eddie asks, sliding into the seat across from you.
You chuckle, knowing that the truth isn’t something that he’ll ever be privy to. “Was just wondering what’s taking you guys so long.”
“Got caught up by the bar. Sorry.”
You wave away the apology. “S’okay.”
“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice says. A woman walks up to your booth. “I noticed the two of you from my table.” She gestures to a corner of the room, where her friends are trying not to make it obvious that they’re watching, ready to hype up their friend. “I was wondering if you were looking for a third.”
You try not to laugh—or smile. You’re sure it took her a lot of courage to ask, but you kind of never expected to be propositioned like this in real life. It’s something you see in memes, sure. But not in real life.
Your gaze flickers between Eddie and the woman. As far as you know, Eddie is single, so maybe this is something that he wants on his own.
The beat of silence that ensues starts to prolong itself—it’s entering awkward silence territory.
The woman shuffles on her feet, feeling the weight of her blunder. Her mouth opens for what you’re sure is apologies.
“We’re not actually—” you start.
“We’re good,” Eddie interrupts.
You shoot him a look, but he smiles politely at the woman.
“We’re not interested,” Eddie says. He’s kind, but firm about it.
“No, of course not. I just—figured I’d ask. Have a nice night, you two.” She scampers away to her friends.
You turn your attention to Eddie, raising your eyebrow when he re-meets your gaze.
“What?” he asks.
“You didn’t want to hook up with her?”
He shrugs. “Not really my type. And she doesn’t seem interested in me. Not alone, at least.”
You shake your head. You pick up the salt shaker on the table, fidgeting with it. “Yeah, but we’re not together in the way that she thinks we are.”
“I’m sure Buck wouldn’t mind if it stops you from getting hit on.”
“That’s—kind of the problem.” You can’t help but think of Ben. It was one innocuous thing, that spiralled into this. Into paranoia; into an inability to be alone; to frequently checking in with Eddie to ensure he and Chris are safe; to being on a call with Buck or Athena or Maddie to make sure you felt safe enough to head into work and come home at night; to Buck sleeping over at yours, or you sleeping over at his.
Eddie sighs, nodding. He knows what your mind is occupied with. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. You shouldn’t even be involved. And Chris—” The salt shaker clatters out of your hands, rolling onto the table.
Eddie grabs it before you can reach for it.
“If something happens to Chris because of—him, then. I just—he doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this stupid thing.”
“Neither do you.”
You nod, but you’re not sure you believe it. You’re sure that Eddie knows that, too.
When Buck comes back with your drinks, you shuffle over to make room for him.
Sometime into the night, a few—a lot of—drinks in, you’re curled against Buck’s shoulder. His arm is a comforting warmth around you, body vibrating with a laugh.
Eddie’s sober—he’s designated driver for you and Buck. His eyes are still bright, flicking between you and Buck, a soft smile on his face.
Buck accidentally knocks a bottle off the table whilst gesticulating in his storytelling.
Eddie catches it, beer sloshing over his hand.
“Whoa,” Buck says, literal stars in his eyes. “That was so cool, Eddie. You’re so cool, Eddie.”
Eddie laughs, wiping his hand with a paper towel. “I think it’s time for us to go, bud.”
Buck starts to whine, clearly not an idea that he likes.
You pat Buck’s shoulder. “We have more drinks at home,” you say. You haven’t had as much as Buck, but you’re definitely not sober. Home will probably be Buck’s place, but you and Eddie both know that Buck will crash once he’s laid out on the bed. “Come on, let’s go, baby.”
Buck allows you to herd him out of the booth seat, and Eddie tucks his arm under Buck, the three of you heading to Eddie’s car. Buck passes out as soon as he’s strapped into the backseat.
In the time that he spends trying to corral Buck, you’ve been scanning the parking lot and surrounding areas. It’s dark, but you’re convinced that if you keep an eye out, you’ll be able to protect them, or you’ll be able to see—him.
“You alright?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” you say, distracted. Your eyes remain affixed to a clump of trees. Shadows in the streetlights.
“Hey.” You hear the door of his car close, and Eddie bumps your shoulder, drawing your attention. “Come on. Let’s get you home too.”
You nod, eyes flickering to Buck in the backseat, already fast asleep.
Despite your drunken paranoia, the drive to Buck’s loft is uneventful. Eddie helps get Buck into bed—Buck’s half-asleep and dragging long limbs around. “You’re the best, Eddie. Love you,” Buck mumbles into the pillow.
Eddie snorts. “Love you too, buddy.” Eddie smooths out Buck’s hair, heading down into the kitchen with you. “You planning on sleeping?”
You shrug. “If I get tired.”
Eddie grabs two glasses, filling them with water. He places them on the table. Like he belongs. Like this is home as much as his place is; as much as the firehouse is.
“The nightmares will go,” Eddie says.
You blink, trying to compose yourself with a laugh. “I never said anything about nightmares.”
“You didn’t have to. ’S okay, you know? I get them. Buck gets them too.”
“I know.” You’ve been woken up by Buck before; made calls to Eddie when you weren’t sure what to do. Eddie taught you how to calm Buck down from a nightmare. You wonder how you’ve never realised that you’ve learned how to be Buck’s partner through Eddie.
“Get some rest. You look beat.”
“Gee, thank you so much. You always make me feel special.” You flip him off, and he grins. But you listen, turning off the kitchen light and heading for the stairs.
“You need help getting up there?” Eddie trails after you.
“No,” you say, indignant, before promptly tripping over your own feet on the second step.
Eddie catches you, chuckling. “Mm, wanna try that again?” He’s a step below you, making your height level. And he’s close. And you’re drunk, head still fuzzy. You’re warmed by his arm around your waist, the soft glow of his eyes in the moonlight.
Something blares in your head; something rabbiting in your chest. You lean into him, lips brushing.
Eddie clears his throat, taking a step back. His warmth absent. “I should go,” he says.
“Okay,” you whisper.
“I’ll lock up. You head up.”
And you do.
And Eddie doesn’t move until he hears the bedsheets rustling upstairs.
“Eddie’s avoiding me,” is the first thing Buck says when you pick up the phone.
You hear him first, and then his image loads in. You’re both lucky that your lunch break and his down time at the station has synced up.
“What do you mean?” You’re 15 minutes into a 45 minute lunch break, so you settle down, earbuds tucked into your ears.
“He’s not talking to me. Like this morning, in the kitchen. It was a normal breakfast, but he dipped out as soon as I sat next to him. And! And, he volunteered to go with Ravi when Cap was assigning us! Not that there’s anything wrong with Ravi, but Eddie always goes with me. He never asks to go with anyone else.” Buck’s definitely put out. Whining, even.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. Working out, maybe? He’s avoiding me, so I decided to give him space.”
“That’s actually mature of you, baby.”
“Did I do anything embarrassing when I was drunk?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t remember anything embarrassing.”
“Yeah. That’s usually a you thing.”
“Hey. Careful, Buckley.”
Buck grins. “D’you think I should try and talk to him?”
“Maybe. I don’t think you should push him, but you could let him know that if he needs to say something to you, you’ll be there to listen.”
“Oh, that’s smart. I’ll do that. You’re the best.”
“You know it, babe. Anyway, I need to head back. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
After his shift and yours, Buck ends up at your place, making dinner for the two of you. “Hey,” you say, walking into the kitchen. “That smells nice.”
“Hey. Missed you.” He wraps you into a hug, pressing a kiss on your forehead.
Throughout dinner, you notice his attention on you more than usual, like he has something he wants to say.
“Is everything okay?” you ask. You’re not sure how to approach him.
“Hm? Yeah, yes, everything’s fine,” Buck says, in that voice that lets you know that everything is not fine.
“Okay,” you cede, even though his suspicious behaviour is making you curious.
You focus on your dinner again, even though you still notice his attention on you. The sighing, the opening and closing of his mouth like he’s trying to give himself the courage to say something.
“Did you end up talking to Eddie?” you ask him instead. If he won’t talk, then you will.
“What?” Buck’s voice is unnaturally high-pitched. “Why would I—what about Eddie? Did you talk to Eddie?”
You blink, putting down your fork. This is getting into weird territory. Arms crossed atop the table. “Outside of the usual texts, not really. Was I meant to talk to Eddie about something?”
“No? I don’t think so. Why would you ask me if I talked to him?” He’s definitely cagey about something.
“You said he was avoiding you.”
“Oh.” The steam seems to leave Buck—whatever had him flustered is now leaving him embarrassed by his reaction. “I—yeah, I talked to him. He said it wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Okay. Did he say why he was avoiding you if you didn’t do anything wrong, then? That doesn’t really seem fair.”
“Um.” Buck clears his throat, taking a sip of his water. Puts his glass down, then takes another sip.
Uh oh, you think. Alarm bells ringing in your head. “Buck,” you say, because clearly, there’s something that’s bothering him.
“I uh—how much do you remember from when we went to the bar?”
You think about it. “Not much. I was kind of tipsy. We went out, got drunk, Eddie drove us home.”
“Nothing sticks out to you?”
“I don’t—oh, actually, there was that one girl! She thought Eddie and I were a couple and asked us if we were interested in a third. It was weird—but also kind of flattering, in a way? I tried to tell her that we weren’t actually together, but Eddie just said that we weren’t interested. She was pretty, though. I thought Eddie might have been interested in her for himself, but he kind of just brushed her off. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood.”
Buck blinks. It’s clearly new information to him. “Oh. What—what did Eddie say?”
You purse your lips, trying to parse through your already foggy memories of that night. “He just said ‘we’re not interested’, or something like that. When I tried to ask him about hooking up with her solo, he just said she wasn’t his type.” You shrug.
“Yeah, apparently his type is people he shouldn’t be with.”
You tilt your head, a furrow between your brows. This is unusual shade aimed towards his best friend. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did something happen?”
“He said he almost kissed you.”
You feel your stomach drop, mouth drying up. “I don’t remember that. Buck—I wouldn’t. If I—”
“I know,” he says. “I believe you. I also believe him.”
You swallow thickly. You remember being in Buck’s shoes—of finding out about a partner’s disloyalty to someone that’s supposed to care enough about you to not do that. “I—what should I—what do you need?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking.”
“About?” your voice trembles, and you clear your throat. If he breaks up with you over this—you’d understand, but you know it would hurt.
“Do you like Eddie?”
You’re already shaking your head. “No. Not in that way. He’s our friend. He’s your best friend.”
“But could you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t—maybe in the same way that you could like someone else if you weren’t dating me.”
“Yeah, that’s fair.” Buck nods. Now that he’s talking, he’s unusually calm. Maybe he already processed his anger or panic.
“But I wouldn’t know Eddie if it wasn’t for you,” you add.
Buck smiles, and it’s soft, despite the situation. “I guess so.”
You swallow, tongue wetting your lips. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“Are you sure? I can—if you need space—”
Buck shakes his head, getting up from his chair. He crowds into your space, tugging you into hug. “No. I don’t need space. I’m just thinking. Eddie kind of—he was beating himself up over it. Like he was making himself out to be a bad guy because you were drunk. But also because I’m his best friend and he didn’t think he was that kind of friend.”
“He’s not a bad guy.”
“That’s what I said to him.”
You look up at him, something soft and bittersweet. “You’re a good man, Evan Buckley.”
Buck leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” he says. “Nothing changes that.”
“I love you too. And I’m sorry that it happened.”
You both finish with dinner after. You clean up, and neither of you speak about it anymore. You feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop—for Buck to speak up and verbalise the need for space, for a break; for something. But everything is smooth sailing.
You’re both in bed, Buck’s arm hooked around your waist, facing each other.
“What if you did?” Buck asks.
Your face screws up in confusion. “Did what?”
“Like Eddie?”
It does nothing to clarify your confusion, but you’re reminded, somehow, of Hen and Karen at the Christmas party. “Is that—is that what you’re thinking of?”
“Maybe.”
“It’d have to be a parallel universe.”
“Right. Because you wouldn’t know him if it wasn’t for me. What if there was a universe where you knew me through Eddie?”
“I guess,” you hedge, still confused by his thoughts. “If you believe in multiverses, yeah, there’s a lot of ‘what if’ potentials out there.”
“What if I—” Buck stops, licks his lips. Tries to start again. “What if I liked Eddie?”
Again, you feel that plummet in your stomach, but you swallow everything down, trying to keep your face composed. “Do you?”
“I don’t know. It—” Then he scoffs humorously, shaking his head against the pillow. “It wouldn’t be so crazy,” Buck whispers.
It sounds more like he’s repeating words that someone else said, than something that he’s saying to himself.
“Nothing changes for us.” Reaching out, Buck strokes his thumb across your cheek. “I promise.”
You try to believe him.
It takes a long time for you to fall asleep. And when you do, you only remember snippets of a dream—of standing in the moonlight in Buck’s loft, on the stairs leading up to his bedroom. Of leaning in close to Eddie’s lips. Of his arm around your waist.
You wake up feeling immensely guilty.
You can’t tell if this is a fabrication or a lost memory.
One night when you’re at Buck’s place, there’s an envelope addressed to you. Your name etched on it in blue ink. Something other than paper clearly inside it. From the shape of it, you think it’s a USB.
“Do we open it?” you ask Buck.
“No.”
You snap a picture on your phone, and text it to Athena.
Athena calls less than ten minutes later. “Do not touch it,” is the first thing she says.
“Okay. No touching it.” You put the phone on speaker.
“It was in your mail?” Athena asks, clarifying.
“Buck’s mail. I’m at his right now.”
“We’ll check the cameras around the building.”
“We know who did it,” Buck says, voice sharp. Angry.
“I know, Buck,” Athena says. “But we need evidence.”
When Athena comes by to take the envelope away, she suggests that you and Buck pack a bag for now. Accommodations can be sorted later.
At the station, they find out that it was, indeed a USB. Loaded on it were images. Images inside your apartment. Images of you, and Buck, and sometimes Eddie. Mostly you, alone. Your kitchen, your living room, your bathroom, your bedroom.
You feel sick.
Buck grips your hand tight.
“The break-in,” you hear yourself say. It feels like your heart’s in your head, thudding. “He put the cameras in during the break-in.” Nothing had been taken. You thought it was just to scare you. To play mind games.
“We’ll do a sweep of your apartment. In the meantime, you need to be somewhere else. Both of you do.”
Buck’s loft is compromised. With no address on the envelope, Ben obviously had to have personally dropped his present into Buck’s mailbox.
“I’m—”
“Don’t,” Buck says. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”
“None of this wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for—”
“Him,” Athena finishes. “You’re not the one that’s gone off the bender. He is.”
After you leave the station, you end up at Eddie’s. While you were against it, Buck had reasoned that if Ben knew were Eddie lived, he would have done something already. Based on the karaoke machine, the Grant-Nash residence was out, even though Athena had offered her place as a safe haven.
“I’ll be at Maddie’s,” Buck says.
Both of them only have one couch. Eddie already said that he doesn’t mind you crashing at his. And Buck says that outside of Eddie, it makes sense that he stays at her’s.
Buck presses a kiss to your temple. He turns his attention to Eddie. Licks his lips. “Listen…”
“I know,” Eddie says, when it seems like Buck can’t summon the words he wants to say. “I got it.”
Buck nods, pulling Eddie into a hug.
“Alright. Thanks, man,” Buck says.
“Take care, dude,” Eddie responds.
You both watch Buck get into his car before closing the door.
Eddie bustles around the house, heading into his room.
“Don’t do that,” you say, stopping Eddie from removing the sheets from his bed.
“I don’t mind. I can take the couch.”
You grab the pillow from his hands. Or—try to. He holds fast, and it catches between both of your hands. “No,” you say. “I’m taking the couch. You’re already doing me a favour by letting me stay. Just keep the bed.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Come on. You would let Buck take the couch.”
Eddie wavers.
“Eddie. Please.”
He relents, letting go of the pillow. “Fine,” he says.
You put the pillow back onto his bed. “Thank you.”
“I’ll show you where the spare sheets are.”
“Thank you,” you say again.
The first time they realise that they both need to go in for their shifts at the 118, Buck volunteers to take the day off. You say it’s a stupid idea, and that they can both work. Obviously, only if Eddie’s okay with leaving you in his house by yourself.
“Yeah, course,” Eddie says, like it’s nothing. Save for giving you a spare key like he did with Buck, you feel like he somehow trusts you the same amount.
Your library shifts are shorter than their ones, so after work, you have more than enough time to sort out dinner for you and Chris, and then meal prep for the next few days. Eddie, like Buck, rarely has time to cook. Apparently, Eddie can cook if he had the time to practice.
“I’m sorry for intruding, Chris,” you say.
“If you keep cooking this, you’ll be forgiven,” Chris says. His snark is almost parallel to Eddie’s.
“Deal.” You hold out a fist.
Chris bumps it with his own. “Does that mean you and Dad are dating now?”
You almost choke on your food. “Wh—no. No. I’m—I’m dating Buck, remember?”
“Oh.”
“I’m friends with your dad. Like Buck is friends with your dad. And I’m friends with him, because we hang out together.”
“Denny’s mom is friends with Dad.”
“Yes. Yes she is.” You’re not quite sure where this is leading.
“But she doesn’t come over. Or hang out with Dad as much as you and Buck.”
“We’re—um. Well, Buck and your dad are best friends.”
“So you’re best friends with Dad too?”
“Um. Maybe? By association, maybe.”
Chris chews on his food, thoughtful. “You know, Buck told me that I shouldn’t make more than one girl feel special at the same time.”
You blink. Then again. “I—is that what you think I’m doing? That I’m making Buck and your dad feel special?”
Chris shrugs, like he isn’t the one that introduced the idea. “Outside of Buck, the only people that stayed over were Carla and people that Dad dated. And you’re not Carla. It’s not your job to take care of me.”
“No, I guess not. But I’m not dating your dad. I’m dating Buck.”
“I know,” Chris says, cryptically. It feels too much like the conversation you had with Hen and Karen—like he knows something that you don’t. “Have you seen Gossip Girl?”
“Uh—yes?” You’re bewildered by the non sequitur. “It’s kind of a staple.”
“The new one. The reboot.”
“Oh. Then, no, I haven’t. I heard about it, though.”
“You should. There’s a ship in there you should look at.”
“Yeah? Which characters?” Because you’re sure there’s going to be a lot of them with messy ships and plots.
“You’ll know,” Chris says. Again, he’s cryptic.
“Are you even old enough to be watching that? Is there an age restriction on that?” You grab your phone, intending to search up the rating for it, at least.
“I have to go.” Chris scrambles away, and you tut, shaking your head fondly.
You clear up the table and do the dishes after dinner. When you’re done, you fall onto the couch, sighing as you, indeed, search up the Gossip Girl reboot. You don’t have the wherewithal to get into a new show, but it should be enough to search it on socials and see what the ships are.
And… okay.
You’re not sure what Chris was intending, and you don’t know if you want him to mean the three people ship or not.
You think about Buck saying that it wouldn’t be so crazy for him to like Eddie.
When he asked about you potentially liking Eddie, is this what he meant?
It’s—complicated. Essentially living with Eddie after the conversation, and that dream about kissing him is weird.
The USB situation seems to have put whatever awkwardness Eddie felt on the back burner. He no longer skirts around Buck, and doesn’t seem phased by you. You, however, are not in that boat, as much as you want to be.
On their shared days off, Buck tends to either hang out at the Diaz residence, or is utilised as a free babysitter for Maddie and Chim, not that Buck minds. On those days, you take yourself to the Buckley-Han house.
“So,” Buck starts, almost breathless as he opens the door for you. There’s something excitable in his energy.
“Hi to you too,” you say. “Is Jee here?”
“She’s in the bathroom,” Buck says. He’s—eager about something. “Anyway, I was making cookies. And I asked if she wanted choc chip, peanut butter, or snickerdoodle. And she said all of them. All of them, in one cookie dough batch.”
You nod indulgently, heading towards the kitchen. “Did you bake them yet?” If he’s on a sugar high, that would explain his energy.
“No, not yet. She said to wait until after she got herself cleaned up. She’s also said she’s a big girl and doesn’t want my help, by the way. She’s growing up really fast.”
You can’t help the smile, incredibly endeared. “You might want to check on her, though. Just—be sneaky about it.”
“The cookies.”
“I can preheat the oven for you.”
“No. The cookies,” Buck says emphatically. “Us. Cookies.”
Again, you’re bemused. “Buck—”
“What if we don’t have to choose? What if there’s a universe—and it’s this universe—where, where it’s you, me, and Eddie in one…”
“Cookie,” you finish.
“Exactly.” Buck presses a kiss to your forehead. “Think about it, but no pressure, okay? I’m going to check in with Jee.”
Buck disappears down the hall. You busy yourself with preheating the oven to distract from the fact that Buck definitely opened up—something on you. A can of worms; Pandora’s box. Whatever it is, you’re left flummoxed. You haven’t thought about Eddie in that way because you were with Buck. But if this is something Buck wants, you have no idea how to navigate it.
Not to mention, you think Chris was trying to point you down the same path by talking to you about the Gossip Girl reboot.
The three of you.
Like Hen and Karen said.
You’re distracted by your thoughts when Jee-Yun calls your name. Her footsteps are fast approaching.
You swing her up into a hug. “Hey, Jee,” you coo. You’ve haven’t met her in person yet, but more often than not, every time Buck video calls when he’s here and you’re at Eddie’s place, Jee is always attached to Buck, piping into the conversation with you.
“Buck and I made cookies!” Jee says.
“Yeah? What’s in them?”
“Chocolate chip, and peanut butter, and snickerdoodle! It was my idea.”
You entertain Jee in the kitchen as Buck bustles around, placing balled up cookie dough on the trays to be placed into the oven.
You’re done around the time Maddie and Chim come back.
“Hey,” Chim greets you.
“Hey, Chim.”
Chim takes Jee, who babbles about her babysitting adventures to him and Buck in the kitchen.
Maddie hugs you, corralling you into the living room to sit.
“How are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m—” You instinctively want to say that you’re okay, but you both know that you’d be lying. “Hanging in there.”
Maddie nods, sympathetic. “Are you sleeping okay?”
You shrug. “As well as Buck is, I think.” Too many times the two of you have stayed up, texting each other, then getting on call to keep each other company, long after the other occupants of the house have fallen asleep. You know it’s bad for Buck—working a 24 hour shift, and then not sleeping well after.
Maddie frowns, pulling you into another hug. “Athena’s working on it.”
You nod, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. It’s not her fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, except for Ben’s. “I know. Anyway, I should head out before it gets too dark.”
“Okay.” Maddie stands with you, joining Chim and Jee.
You head towards the entry of the house, Buck following after you.
“Hey,” Buck starts. He seems to have come down from the excitement he greeted you with, nervous. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it onto you like that. And I—I love you. I don’t want you to think that I don’t, just because I’m saying…”
“I’ll think about it,” you offer, when he trails off. You pull him down to kiss him, soft and gentle. You bump your nose against his jaw. “I love you, too, Evan Buckley.”
Buck hugs you, kissing the side of your neck.
“No canoodling in my house!” Chim calls out.
“We’re not canoodling!” Buck calls back as you laugh.
“I don’t trust you!”
“Alright, time for me to go,” you say. You peck Buck’s cheek and call out your goodbyes to the rest of the house before you leave.
A week later, you’re settled on the couch, your phone glowing dimly on the lowest brightness setting. You can’t sleep, again. Buck stopped responding to your texts, so you assume that he fell asleep sometime past midnight. Your best bet is to stay up until your eyes droop and you sleep. It’s not much, but lying here, keenly aware of every noise the house creates makes you paranoid.
So, obviously, when you hear noise on the porch, you think it’s your active imagination.
But you hear shuffling outside.
You sit up, heart thudding away in your chest.
Checking the time on your phone, you see that it’s 1:01 AM. You know Eddie and Chris are asleep—there’s been no other sounds of movement in the house.
You stand, creeping into the kitchen to find the knives. You’re not stupid—someone’s breaking in. And whether it’s a random stranger, or Ben, you’ll be prepared.
You sneak out of the kitchen, hiding on the other wall.
The front door opens. Whoever is out there must have picked the lock. They open the door, footsteps coming in, then close the door behind them softly.
The tall, hulking figure walks further into the entryway.
You spring out, brandishing the knife. “Stay where you are!”
“Whoa! Whoa, hey, it’s me!”
“Buck?!”
Your wrist is locked in Buck’s grip, turning the knife away from him.
“Okay,” Buck says. “I can see this was a stupid idea.”
“Jesus, Buck.”
“I’m going to take the knife.”
The light flicks on, and you jump again.
“What’s going on?” Eddie’s voice.
Buck takes the knife out of your hand as you turn, seeing Eddie blink blearily at you. Sleep mussed, a furrow between his brows.
“It’s my fault,” Buck says. “I couldn’t sleep. Made a last minute decision to come over, but didn’t think to tell anyone since it’s late.”
“’S early, Buck. Really early,” Eddie says around a yawn.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says. “I’m going to put this back.” He strides into the kitchen, and you hear him jostle utensils before he comes back, empty handed.
“Are you okay?” Eddie nods towards you.
“Yeah. Yeah—I’m just… um, adrenaline, I think.”
“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. He inches closer, wrapping an arm around you. “That was really stupid of me.”
Eddie steps out further into the living room. “You guys can take the bed.”
You send Buck a look. Disapproving, almost. “Eddie, don’t do that. It’s your house.”
“You can’t both fit on the couch.”
“I was planning on taking the couch. It’s fine, Eddie.” Buck says, realising the predicament.
“No. Don’t be silly,” Eddie argues.
You adjust Buck’s arm, taking a hold of his hand in yours. You step closer to Eddie. “Hey, look—we’re—it’s late. We’re all tired,” you say, and you squeeze Buck’s hand. “We’ll all sleep better on a bed. We’ll share.”
Eddie blinks, mouth automatically opening to disagree. “It’s not a big bed.”
“We’ll make it work.”
“Eddie,” Buck says. He’s close behind you, but you don’t turn around; you don’t see what his face looks like.
Whatever it is, it makes Eddie’s lips thin, gaze dragging between you two. After what feels like a heavy pause, he finally nods. “Okay.”
You gently press your free hand against Eddie’s chest, ushering him back through the hallway to his bedroom. Every step you take, you feel Buck take them with you, your hands still linked.
You duck into the bathroom, letting them settle in first. Somehow, you’re doing this. You’ve decided to share a bed with your boyfriend and his best friend. Your boyfriend agreed to it—wanted this. You want it, you think. True to your word, you’ve spent the past week thinking about it.
When you leave the bathroom, you see Eddie and Buck uncomfortably laid out on either sides of the bed, as much space as possible between them. Buck briefly talked about sharing the bed during the lockdowns, and while you hadn’t known them then, you’re sure it wasn’t this awkward.
You trudge to Eddie’s side of the bed, yawning. “Move in, Eddie.”
“What—?” Eddie startles.
“Move in.” You grab the corner of the blanket, knee depressing into the mattress.
You know you haven’t left Eddie much of a choice. He can move, or you climb into bed on top of him. Eddie shuffles aside, allowing you space.
You briefly meet Buck’s gaze, nodding. Buck nods back, a soft smile on his face.
You tuck yourself under the blankets, turning onto your side, back turned towards them. “Good night, boys,” you say.
They answer in unison.
You’re a late riser, comparative to the two firefighters. You have no idea how they woke up, but you know that they’re being awkward about it.
“Buck, can you lock up?” Eddie asks. He’s not looking directly at Buck when he asks.
“Yeah, of course,” Buck says. On the other hand, Buck is trying to maintain eye contact with him.
“Thanks, bud. I’m going to drop Chris off at school first. See you both,” Eddie says. He barely looks at you, either, before he guides Chris out of the house.
“Well,” Buck says into the silence after they’ve left.
“What happened?” you ask.
“We were cuddling. All of us. I think he freaked out.”
“Yeah. I think we should talk to him. Properly.”
“Is it—is this something you want? Something you really want?”
You nod. You know Buck and Eddie would fall together seamlessly. You love Buck, and you can see that they care for each other, even if they’re not ready to wholly admit the extent of their feelings. You and Eddie, however—you’re not sure. You think you were honest when you said that you could like him. But you don’t know how he feels about you, maybe drunken almost kiss notwithstanding.
If your dream was a real memory, then it seemed like you were the one that tried to initiate it. And even if the dream wasn’t a memory, there’s no way you could platonically dream about kissing someone.
“We’ll make it work,” you say. “You’re going to have to talk to him, though. He might try and avoid you the whole day, again.”
Buck groans, rubbing at his face. “Yeah, okay, I’ll talk to him. I don’t think I can go through another 24 hour shift of that.”
You press a kiss onto Buck’s cheek and head out together, waiting for him to lock up. Even though you’ll find yourself back here when you’re done with work, you haven’t been given a spare key. Eddie keeps his one hidden in a flower pot out the front for you to use. It’s not the most secure system, but it works—it hasn’t gotten stolen yet.
You have a short shift—a few hours today, and a longer day tomorrow. You’re already done, and you’ve sent a text to Chris to try and see what he wants for dinner. He sends you two burger emojis, the eyes, and a question mark.
You quickly send back only if you don’t tell your dad.
That means no need to gather supplies to cook. Your phone is relatively quiet—you assume that Buck is busy. You’re not sure if Eddie is still intent on avoiding you, but you assume that he’ll be as busy as Buck. The TV is playing as background noise, trying to fill in the place. Usually, you would spend your downtime outside running errands, but you’ve been less keen on doing so since Ben.
The TV is the only reason you know about the fire.
There’s a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach as the news anchor details the fire that started in the fire station.
You call Buck. It goes to voicemail.
Then Eddie. Voicemail, again.
Then Maddie.
“Hey.” Her voice sounds a little breathy—stressed, or panicked. “I was going to call you.”
“Is—I saw on the news. Is it them?”
“We’re sending other units to them now. The station’s on fire, but the unit’s accounted for. Everyone’s alive.”
“They’re alive,” you repeat to yourself. They’re alive.
“I can’t stay on the phone long, but Athena’s sending a unit to you. Go with them. Stay with them.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s Ben.”
There’s a ringing in your ears.
“He set the fire, but they’ll get him. He’s not getting away this time,” Maddie continues.
You swallow thickly, hearing her hang up as she apologises, citing that she needs to return to work.
There’s nothing you can do for the fire. The other station puts them out. The 118 suffered some burns, some smoke inhalation. On your request, the unit with Officer Williams takes you to the hospital that the 118 are taken to.
You send a few texts to Maddie and Chris, letting them know where you’ll be, and that you’ll be checking in with Buck and Eddie.
“Hey.” Athena inserts herself by you, tugging you away from the foyer. “You looking for Buck?”
“Yeah. What room?”
Athena nods down the hall. “Third room to the right. Listen—hey, they’re all alive, okay?”
Your attention drifts towards the commotion at the front. A cot is dragged through, paramedics rushing in, nurses meeting them halfway.
“Hey, look at me,” Athena says. She cups your face, turning you towards her. “We got him. He’s not getting away.”
“Is—was that him?”
“Yes. He set the fire at the station. Got caught in it. Eddie got him out.”
“Eddie got—” you let out a stuttered breath. “Did he get hurt?”
Athena nods. “Yes. But it’s okay—he’s going to be okay.”
“Okay. I—thank you, Athena.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she squeezes you back.
“Buck’s probably going to be awake sooner rather than later. He’ll probably want to see you,” Athena says when you part.
“I—can I just ask for one favour?”
Athena raises an eyebrow.
“I just want to see Ben. Just once. Just to know he’s actually… caught,” you say. “You can literally stay with me the whole time. I just need to see it for myself.”
With a sigh, Athena leads you to Ben’s room. There’s an officer stationed at the door that exchanges acknowledging nods with Athena. You don’t go in—you stay by the window, watching as the doctors and nurses work on his burns.
Even though half his face is covered by seeping bandages, you know that it’s him.
You feel—you can’t quite put into words how you feel. Seeing him here like this, it’s abundantly clear that he’s just a man. Despite your fears, the paranoia, the nightmares, the mess that was created in his wake, he’s just a man. Hurt, burned—facing the consequences of his actions.
“Good enough for you?” Athena asks after a moment.
“Yes,” you say honestly, and you feel something in your chest lighten. He’s caught. You know once he wakes up, he’ll have nowhere to run. Between the police presence and his injuries, he’s stuck. “Good enough for me.”
Athena walks you to Buck’s room. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, when she notices that he’s already awake.
“Thanks, Athena,” both you and Buck chorus.
You enter the room, the door closing behind you as you beeline to Buck’s side. You cup his face between your hands. “I was so worried,” you say.
Buck shakes his head, a hand enclosing around your wrist. He presses a kiss to your palm. “I didn’t know it was him,” Buck says.
“It’s okay—” you start.
“No, listen. I didn’t know it was him when he came to the station. It was in the middle of the morning. I thought he was some civilian. I didn’t—and, and, then Eddie went in back in to save him and recognised him.”
“You would have saved him anyway. Both of you would have. Even if you knew it was him.” You kiss his forehead. “It’s okay. Athena’s not letting him get away. It’s—” Your voice stumbles a little. “It’s over.”
Buck nods. “It’s over. You’re going to be okay.”
“And so are you.”
Buck shuffles aside, pulling you into the cot with him. It’s not exactly comfortable, but you curl up next to him. “I gotta text Maddie,” you say. “And Chris.” You take out your phone from your back pocket, sending updates to them again.
Chris responds to you.
“Carla’s going to take Chris here,” you summarise for Buck.
“I think Eddie’s in the next room.” Buck presses a kiss to your forehead.
“I can check to see if he’s awake,” you say.
“You should sit with him.”
You frown, twisting to face him. “What about you?”
“I’ll be okay. Promise,” he adds, when he sees that you’re about to say something else. “We’re figuring it out, right? With him too?”
“Okay,” you respond, after a hefty pause where you’re scrutinising Buck’s face.
He seems so sure.
“I’ll be okay,” he repeats.
You kiss his cheek before you climb off the cot, heading into Eddie’s room. Like Buck said, he’s in the next room. You settle into the seat next to his bed—Eddie’s unconscious, bandages wrapped around his arm. You’re sure there’s more on the rest of his body.
It takes almost an hour for him to wake up. By that point, Chris and Carla had arrived, and you had relinquished your seat to Chris, opting for one of the seats along the wall.
Carla leaves after the first hour after you promise that you’ll get Chris home after visiting hours are over.
“Dad!” Chris ambles towards the bed.
“Hey,” Eddie croaks out, wincing a little as his arm wraps around Chris. “How long was I out?”
“A while,” Chris says.
Eddie looks around the room, almost like he’s expecting another presence. You think he’s expecting Buck. Eddie stills when he sees you, swallowing thickly.
Your lips press together into a smile, nodding at him.
Eddie nods in response.
“I’ll get the nurses for you,” you say, heading out.
Eddie ends up needing to stay at the hospital overnight for observation. They release Buck, though, and you take it upon yourself to chauffeur him and Chris.
“Hey,” Eddie says, and his hand catches around your wrist. A part of you knows that there’s something he wants to say—something he’s been meaning to say, probably since he realised it was Ben that he rescued.
You pass your keys to Buck. “Get settled in first, okay?”
Buck nods, grabbing them from you. He strides over to the bed, squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, leaning into him for a hug. “See you, man.”
“See you, bud.”
Then Chris sneaks in to say his goodbye. They both file out, Buck kissing your forehead.
You drag the seat closer. “It’s okay, you know,” you start. “I don’t really expect any less from you.”
“But it was… Ben.”
You shrug. “And you get to sleep knowing that you saved him. That you’re a good person. You save people, Eddie. It’s what you do.”
Eddie shakes his head, and you know that he, too, has demons that he struggles to keep at bay. “That doesn’t make me a good person.”
“You are.”
“No. I—” He shakes his head. “It’s—I almost kissed you. You were drunk, and I almost kissed you. And that’s just as bad—”
“Eddie, no. Hey, Eddie.” You lean forward in your chair, catching his face between your palms. “Don’t say that.”
“You were drunk,” Eddie emphasises.
“Maybe so. But we didn’t. And you would never hurt me.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” you say. Your thumb smooths across his cheek, and he blinks rapidly. “It’s okay. I trust you. Buck trusts you. We’ll wait for you, and then we’ll figure things out.”
Eddie seems at a loss for words.
You smile reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, just as Buck did for you when he left.
“Good night, Eddie.”
“Good night,” Eddie whispers as you leave.
The drive home is relatively silent. Chris falls asleep, and even then, you still wait until you’re at the Diaz residence and Buck carries Chris into his bedroom before you tell him that you kissed Eddie’s forehead.
“Cheater,” Buck teases, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I was meant to talk to him first.”
“You were taking too long,” you say around the fast beating in your chest. This isn’t a wrong thing. You’re allowed to have this.
“Hey.” Buck nudges your cheek with his nose. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And we also like Eddie.”
“And we also like Eddie,” you repeat. It’s a wild thing to admit aloud. In Eddie’s house, while he’s not even here.
“We’re going to make it work.” Buck tucks his face against the side of your neck, breathing.
“We should call it a night,” you say, abruptly remembering that Buck only just got released from the hospital. He needs rest. You rummage through the bags for the medication they sent him home with.
“I love you,” he whispers drowsily, after he’s had some leftovers and had gotten ready for bed.
“I love you too,” you say, tucking him into Eddie’s bed. It was an unspoken agreement that Buck would stay here with Chris since Eddie couldn’t.
Athena’s already claimed that your apartment is habitable again, but you convince yourself that Buck needs company from an uninjured party.
You both fall asleep.
The day that Eddie is released from the hospital is one of Buck’s days off, so he’s the one that picks him up to take him home.
Home is somehow synonymous to Eddie’s place, as much as Buck’s. You ended your lease at your apartment after the station’s fire. With the station out of commission, they temporarily split up and relocated the 118 to other branches, and you know that Buck isn’t taking it well—more often than not, he’s calling to voice his displeasure about how the 129 doesn’t work as well. You know he misses seeing his family.
Buck sends you a picture of Eddie on the couch, captioned with The eagle has landed. From how far it is, you can tell that Buck is in the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t appear to notice that Buck has taken the photo.
When you finish your shift at the library, you head to Eddie’s place—Buck has sent you many updates about Eddie’s slow recovery process, pictures of burns and changed dressing included.
“We’re matching,” you point out, gesturing towards the bandage on Eddie’s arm. You’re all in the kitchen, having just finished dinner. You took it on yourself to do the dishes despite Eddie’s protests. Buck’s drying them, while Chris finishes up his homework.
“It doesn’t count as matching if it’s not in the same place,” Buck says.
“I think someone’s jealous that he doesn’t have a badass burn,” Eddie muses.
You grin.
“What? Jealous? Why would I be?” Buck exclaims.
“Because we’re matching,” you say.
“You’re not matching!”
You meet Eddie’s gaze. “Sounds jealous to me.”
“Yeah, sounds like it to me too,” Eddie says.
“If you’re not going to help,” Chris pipes up, “can you all move along?”
“What d’you need help with?” Buck abandons the task of drying dishes to sit next to Chris.
“Careful, Buck,” Eddie says. They had already instated a ‘help, not cheat’ homework rule that Chris didn’t hesitate to take advantage of when Buck was around.
“I got it,” Buck reassures.
They don’t, but it’s entertaining chatter that you let wash over you. You finish up the dishes while Eddie rests at the table, watching you all.
By the time Chris is done, you’ve relocated to the couch since it’s more comfortable for Eddie. “You alright?” you ask. You know the burn wasn’t the worst of it—Eddie’s injuries included a sprained ankle and a bruised rib.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You didn’t have to come.”
“You literally did the same for me.”
Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then he nods his head, agreeing.
“We’re friends,” you say, even though the conversations you’ve had with Buck doesn’t seem to pertain to just friends.
Buck settles himself in between you two, being careful not to jostle Eddie too much. This mostly means that he encroaches in your space, and you adjust accordingly by half sitting on him.
“I’m not a seat,” Buck tuts, even though his arm snakes around your waist, not willing to let you go.
“Well, if it quacks like a duck,” you say.
Eddie shakes his head fondly. “You’re both impossible, you know that?”
“Lucky you,” Buck says.
Eddie inhales heavily, eyes flickering between the two of you. “So we’re finally talking about that?”
“Well,” Buck starts. He looks at you for help, even though he’s the one that started it.
“Not if you don’t want to,” you hedge.
“We gotta talk about it at some point,” Eddie says.
“Talk about what?” Buck says, playing dumb.
You elbow him. You turn to Eddie, feeling your heart beat wildly in your chest. “We like you, Eddie. As more than friends.”
Eddie opens his mouth, then sighs, hooking his arm over the back of the couch, turning towards the hallway that leads into the room. “Christopher Diaz!”
You watch as Chris ambles out of the hallway, sheepish—too immediate of a reaction to have come out of his room.
“What did we say about eavesdropping?” Eddie asks.
“C’mon,” Chris complains. “I’ve been waiting for you guys to get your shit together.”
“No swearing,” Eddie adds.
“Get it together, then,” Chris corrects himself.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Everyone knows, Dad.”
“Knows what?”
“The three of you!” Chris says, exasperated.
“Everyone who?”
“Hen,” you say, watching as Eddie’s attention turns to you. “Karen. Maybe Chim.”
“Maddie. So definitely Chim.” Buck adds.
“So it finally worked?” Chris asks you.
“I wouldn’t say it did. Yet. Maybe?” you answer.
“What worked?” Eddie asks. He’s confused.
“The Gossip Girl reboot,” you start to explain. “Chris told me about the show, and about a ship in there that I should look at.”
“Did you like it?” Chris asks.
“I didn’t watch it, buddy. I just searched it up.”
“Ship? What ship?” Buck asks. He feels like he’s fast losing the plot.
“There’s a three person polyamorous ship in the show.”
“Ship?” Eddie asks.
“A relationship. Ship for relationship,” Chris explains before you can.
“Oh,” both Buck and Eddie say.
You narrow your eyes at Buck. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t realise what ship meant.”
“I didn’t,” Buck says.
“You’re not that old to be acting like a grandpa.”
“Hey, Eddie didn’t know either!”
“Yeah, but we like Eddie, and he hates technology and therefore, TV shows.”
“I like telenovelas,” Eddie pipes in.
“You’re getting off track!” Chris interjects. “Have you worked it out—yes or no?”
“This isn’t really a conversation that you need to be present for, Chris.”
“I’ve suffered long enough.”
“Are you even old enough to be watching the Gossip Girl reboot?” Buck asks.
“It’s 14 plus,” you say. You had indeed searched it up when you last spoke about it with Chris.
“So that’s a no,” Eddie says, disapprovingly.
“You raised him on telenovelas,” you say. “Of course he’s drawn to the drama. Let him live a little.”
“Exactly! Thank you.” Chris gestures towards you.
“Don’t take his side,” Eddie says, playfully affronted.
“Someone has to. There’s three adults and only one me.” Chris looks between you and Buck. “Two and a half adults.”
Buck splutters as your mouth falls open. Eddie knows he shouldn’t encourage this from Chris, but he laughs.
“You meant him, right?” you say, pointing at Buck.
Buck tries to bite your finger.
Chris mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Actually, I gotta go.” He starts towards the hallway.
“And stay in there this time, yeah?” Eddie calls out.
“As long as you’re not being gross out there!”
You all wait until you hear the door to Chris’ room shut.
You cover your face to stop yourself from laughing.
“Okay,” Eddie starts. Then he shakes his head, attempting to start again. “This—I don’t—a three person relationship?”
Buck nods as you compose yourself.
“How does that work?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Buck says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“And you’re okay with this?” Eddie looks between the two of you. “Both of you?”
You nod. “We like you, Eddie. And if you have us, we want us to be a thing. All three of us.”
“All three of us,” Eddie repeats.
“If that’s what you want,” Buck says.
“You should think on it. It’s a big decision. We’re not going anywhere, no matter what your decision is.”
“What—so if I say no, we’re supposed to pretend like this conversation never happened? You’re still the two of you without me. You don’t need me,” Eddie says.
You get up from Buck. He inches closer to Eddie, and you perch on the arm of the couch, a hand squeezing his shoulder.
“I need you,” Buck says, as honestly and openly as possible. You know it to be the truth—in whatever way it is, Buck needs Eddie.
“Buck,” Eddie says.
“I do. I think I always have. I just didn’t know it. Until now.”
“I think,” you start, and Eddie angles his head to look at you, “ever since I met you, something changed. In a good way. I don’t think we were ever meant to be without you.” And, you think, if Eddie says no, you’re not sure how to get back what you had before, without this realisation. Without the idea of Eddie being a part of this too.
“Think on it,” Buck says. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
Eddie nods. “Alright.”
You both bid your goodbyes with Eddie before you leave.
The next few days—well. You’ve elected to give Eddie space. You’re still friendly, but the texts that you normally exchange throughout the day have dwindled outside of checking in on his recovery. Buck doesn’t see Eddie as often, on account of Eddie needing time off work, and Buck working at the 129.
You don’t want to push.
You and Buck are avoiding talking about it, and part of you thinks that you’re attempting to evade the natural consequence of Eddie’s rejection. That you won’t be able to navigate the relationship afterwards, despite promises that said otherwise.
It takes 10 days. The 118 is reopened in 10 days. Eddie returns to work in 10 days. You haven’t really seen Eddie outside of coming to his house after your shift for a meal and cleanup duty. You’ve already collected your things from when you were staying there.
They hold a reopening ceremony to celebrate the 118’s revival and everyone coming back to the station.
You arrive separately from Buck. It wasn’t a purposeful thing, but Buck had said that he wanted to drive Eddie, despite Eddie’s claims that his ankle was fine. And you said that you probably wouldn’t be ready by the time that Buck wanted to go, so you would take yourself later.
“Hey,” Buck says, a furrow between his brows. “Are we okay?” It took him a little longer to notice the gap between you, but he’s noticing it now.
“I don’t know,” you say, truthful. “I hope so.”
Buck nods, understanding. He pulls you into a hug. “I hope so too. I’ll see you in there.”
“See you in there.”
He kisses you before he leaves.
You’ll admit to yourself that you’re dressing up more than the occasion calls for. The outfit, the hair, the makeup. You’re not sure if it’s for Buck or Eddie’s benefit. Maybe both. The idea sends a thrill through you.
You take a moment to breathe after you park your car outside the 118’s house. You gather yourself, trying to force down the feelings of being silly and overdressed. Buck was in a suit when he left. You can only assume that Eddie will be too.
You recollect yourself and head into the firehouse. Hen is the first to meet you, folding you into a hug. “You look gorgeous,” she says.
“Thank you,” you say. “I feel overdressed.”
“Not at all.” She nods over to Athena, who’s wearing a backless silk dress. She’s stunning in it, mingling with Bobby, Chim, and Maddie.
Karen comes over to you both, handing Hen a champagne flute.
“You didn’t come with Buck?” Karen asks.
“No. I got ready later,” you say.
“Is everything okay with you two?” Hen asks. She rubs your upper arm.
You think about what Buck said before he left. “I hope so. I—we talked to Eddie.”
Both Hen and Karen perk up, rounding on you. “And?” They’re eager for more information.
You shrug. “Eddie needs time to think about it. I think… Buck and I are also feeling a little weird. We haven’t really talked about it, though.”
“Well, something’s definitely going to give tonight.”
“You think so?”
“When you’re dressed like that? Absolutely. You are going home with somebody tonight,” Karen says.
You laugh. “I already live with Buck,” you say.
“When did that happen?” Hen exclaims.
“After Ben. I know the cameras in my place are gone, but I just… didn’t see a point in the apartment anymore. Oh God, is this the moving in curse? Like—couples that move in and then are destined to break up?”
“No, of course not.” Karen plucks another champagne flute from the table, giving you one. “You need this.”
You down it.
“You’re fine. You guys will be fine. Eddie said he needed time, so give him time. There’s no way he’s going to say no,” Hen says.
“You don’t know that,” you say.
Hen only smiles gently. “It’ll be okay.”
You hug them both, making your rounds to say hi to everyone.
You feel eyes tracking you, following you around as the night progresses as you flitter between groups of people.
When you’ve secluded yourself by a table, Buck comes up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.
“You are beautiful,” he whispers.
“Thank you.” You adjust yourself so your front aligns with his.
He leans down towards you, but you block the trajectory of his lips on yours with your hand.
He makes a complaining noise.
“Makeup,” you say in lieu of explanation.
Buck assents, lips moving to kiss at the side of your neck instead.
“I haven’t seen you all night.”
“I’m sorry. I got into my own head about Eddie, us, and everything with work. We haven’t really talked about anything.”
“We haven’t,” you agree. “We should.”
“We should.” Buck kisses your neck again. “I’ll fix it.”
“How?”
“I’ll talk to Eddie.”
“He needed time to think. He’ll come to us when he’s ready.”
“I think he’s ready.”
“How do you—”
“Hey.” Eddie appears by you two. He’s wearing a dark suit, a turtleneck underneath. His gaze travels to you, eyes raking down, then up. “You look beautiful.” He takes your hand, lifting so your knuckles graze against his lips.
“Thank you,” you say, feeling breathless. You swallow, feeling like there’s something in your throat. “You do too.”
Eddie inclines his head, grinning. He lets go of your hand.
You clear your throat. “How was your first day back? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. First day was fine. Everything’s back to normal.”
“I’m glad.”
“You should’ve seen him,” Buck says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “He was amazing out there. It was like he never missed a beat.”
Eddie grins and ducks his head, shy. It’s cute, you think.
You feel like you can relax, now. The tenseness that you’ve felt for the past week or so has settled. Passed. Eddie’s talking to the two of you again; Buck’s here. You feel at ease, even if Eddie hasn’t said anything outright about his thoughts.
When the night wraps up, Eddie finds you two again, after having been waylaid into a conversation with Bobby and Athena.
“Hey.” He takes a hold of Buck’s elbow. “Can we—” He licks his lips, nervous in his hesitation. “Come back with me?”
“Yes,” Buck whispers as you nod.
Buck elects to leave his car at the station since he’ll be back here in due time; you’ll be the driver. You make another round to everyone to say that you’re turning in for the night.
Maddie, Hen, and Karen all shoot you knowing looks. They’re all definitely tipsy, if the giggles they share are of any indication.
“Have fun,” Hen coos, squeezing your cheeks. “Have sooo much fun.”
“I don’t need to know the details,” Maddie attempts to whisper, “but definitely update me because Buck sucks at that.”
“Okay. You guys have fun. I’m heading out.”
“One more for liquid courage.” Karen tries to pass over another champagne flute to you.
“I’m driving,” you decline.
They draw you into a hug before letting you leave.
The car ride errs on the side of quiet, but not awkwardly silent. Buck and Eddie murmur to each other during the ride. You don’t pay much attention, content to let their chatter fill the car as you drive. Eddie needing time to think meant that you didn’t get to see these two hang out as much. And seeing as Eddie had been housebound for the past ten days, Buck obviously hadn’t seen his best friend much either.
Once you’ve pulled up to Eddie’s place and get out, you all settle on the couch. Eddie grabs a few beers for you all, but they sit aside, condensation collecting on the outside of the glass surface.
Eddie’s eyes dart between you and Buck. “I’ve been doing some thinking. A lot of it, the past week.”
You’re patient, letting him speak.
“Whatever you’re offering, I’m in. As long as you’re both 100% about it too,” he says. His gaze flickers to Buck briefly, but it lands squarely on you.
“I’m in,” Buck says determinedly, before turning to you.
Eddie’s attention remains on you. He says your name.
“I’m in,” you say. You’re less sure than Buck, but you know that Buck’s feelings for Eddie is stronger than yours. They’ve known each other longer. Had years to build their friendship. You’ve barely started in comparison. You could love him, you think. With time. Maybe he feels the same way. You think he does.
Eddie shakes his head, not convinced. “This only works if you’re in it as well.”
“I am,” you say, trying to build the solidity in your voice. Your gaze flickers to Buck.
Eddie sighs. “Buck, can we have the room?”
“Y-yeah.” Despite his words, Buck hesitates before he heads into the hallway, ducking into the bathroom. The kitchen wouldn’t have provided much privacy.
“I get it, okay? It’s Buck; it’s hard to say no to him because you want to see him happy,” Eddie says. “But this isn’t something you have to do for him. It should be for you too.”
“It is,” you say. You think you’re the one that draws closer to him, closing the space that Buck had just vacated. You slot your palm against the side of his face, and Eddie leans into it, brown eyes wavering between yours. “I’m just—you’ve always been Buck and Eddie. I think the past few days, I’ve realised how much Buck needs you.”
“He needs you too,” Eddie says. “And I only want this if you want me too.”
Your lips part with a weighted exhale, and you notice his eyes track the movement. Oh. “I do,” you say, a whispered confession into the space between you. “Eddie, I do want you too. I just didn’t think you felt the same way about me.”
The space between you is nearly nonexistent. His lips mere millimetres from yours. Your breath catches in your throat. Your thumb smooths across the skin of his cheek.
You’re not sure when his hand moved towards your waist, but his fingers digs into the space there.
His head dips towards your shoulder, lips pressed there instead. “Okay,” he says, voice hoarse. When he stands, he takes you with him, knocking on the bathroom door as he moves into the hallway and past the bathroom.
“Bedroom,” Eddie says as Buck opens the door in a rush.
“Bedroom?” Buck repeats questioningly.
You reach out for Buck’s hand and tug him along.
You’ve barely made it past the threshold of the bedroom; the door barely closes before Eddie has you pushed up against the door, angling your face towards his. His lips are on yours, kissing you. It’s not a gentle thing, lips stealing your breaths. He kisses like a starved man meeting salvation. A hand against the side of your neck, thumb brushing against your jaw.
“Oh,” Buck breathes out, wondrous.
Eddie parts from you, drawing in a quick breath before he moves onto Buck. Fingers caught into the collar of Buck’s shirt, tugging him into a kiss that’s equally intense.
Oh indeed, you think. They’re beautiful.
Buck makes a whining noise in the back of his throat, drawing back to breathe. His forehead rests against Eddie’s, eyes closed. “I—,” he starts, then shakes his head. His palm rests against Eddie’s cheek, pulling him in for a gentler kiss, something that speaks to the years that they’ve spent dancing around whatever it is that they’ve only started to acknowledge.
Eddie’s arm snakes around you, tugging you close. You start to press kisses against his neck and along his jawline.
“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, breaking away from Buck. His eyes are bright in the darkness of the room. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Not yet,” you say, but you decide to indulge in some leniency.
Buck seems to understand without needing to speak. With Eddie still between you, Buck leans down, his hand moving from Eddie’s cheek to yours. “Hey,” he whispers, so achingly soft.
“Hey,” you answer.
“I missed you.”
Something hitches in your throat and you meet him halfway, lips pressed together. Eddie makes a noise, and you both grin into the kiss. Buck moves away from Eddie, crowding into your space. Hands tuck themselves under your thighs, lifting you up. It’s an easy thing for him, you know. He’s strong. You remember him moving the armchairs in his loft three times without breaking a sweat.
Your legs wrapped around him. He deposits you on Eddie’s bed, nibbling along your neck.
“Eddie,” you gasp out.
When he’s close enough, you yank him towards you, kissing him again. “How— God, Buck— we can slow down,” you say, and Buck detaches himself from your neck, but doesn’t move far from you. You both look at Eddie.
“Whatever you’re okay with,” Buck says.
Eddie clears his throat. “I kind of want to watch you two.”
Buck lets out a groan.
You grin. “You’ve been thinking about it? About us?”
Red blooms on Eddie’s cheeks, and you lean in to kiss flushed skin. “A—a few times,” he admits.
“Yeah?” Buck rasps out.
“Ever since I accidentally walked in on you on the couch.”
Buck leans in to kiss him again. “You’re perfect,” he whispers.
You kiss Eddie, then Buck. You can feel Eddie’s gaze burning. It’s addicting, you think. You don’t know how you could have gone without this. But you know, now, you don’t have to.
You wake up pressed up against Eddie. Buck is curled against Eddie other side. still asleep.
Eddie is awake, and he notices you regain consciousness. “Hey,” he whispers.
“Hey.” You settle against his warm body. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just—wondering how this is my life now.”
“Yeah.” You nose against his jaw as his fingers card through your hair. “You have an answer yet?”
“Nope.” Eddie kisses your forehead. “I gotta get breakfast for Chris.” He attempts to get up, but Buck’s arm is fixed around Eddie’s waist.
Buck lets out a noise of complaint, tightening his hold around Eddie.
“Buck,” Eddie chuckles. “C’mon, man.”
“No,” Buck whines.
“Little help here?” Eddie asks you.
“The man says no, Eddie,” you grin. But you climb over Eddie, inserting yourself between them. Buck wraps him arms around you instead, letting out a content sigh.
“Alright. I’ll see you both in the kitchen.”
You both make an acknowledging noise.
“You okay?” you ask, after Eddie heads into the bathroom to get himself refreshed.
“Perfect,” Buck says. He’s more awake now, pulling you on top of him. “We get to have this.”
“We do,” you agree. You’re all in various states of wondering how this came to be, but you wouldn’t exchange it for anything.
Distantly you remember that you should update Maddie and Hen about this. That’s a later problem, you decide.
The guys take care of her when she has a migraine.
There is a tiny (blink and you'll miss it) hint to Stomach Flu in here too.
---
You were lying on the couch watching Set it Up on Netflix when the aura started. At first it was almost like you were just getting tired. You rubbed your eyes trying to clear the slight blur. Quickly it got worse and you felt like you could barely see anything.
“Ugh! Why?” you whined to the empty living room.
You tried to continue to watch the movie in spite of the aura since no pain had set in yet. Until eventually, the nausea started to build.
You decided to just take Tylenol to head off any headache and go to bed hoping to wake up feeling better when Buck and Eddie got home.
As you pushed off the couch, dizziness rose. You gripped the armrest and took some deep breaths.
About half an hour worth of fumbling through your nightly routine later, you flopped into bed. Before plugging in your phone, you pulled up the group chat with your boys.
Seconds later, the typing bubble popped up just before texts came through.
You smiled at the barrage of questions. They had always been worriers and protective but after you got the flu a few months ago and didn't call them, they were all the more protective.
The typing bubble popped up again and you waited for a response.
You smiled as you replied with a “love you too” then plugged in the phone and set it on the nightstand.
–--
Crushing pain. That was what woke you from a dead sleep.
You knew you should have gotten up to take your migraine medication but the idea of moving sounded unbearable. Even rolling seemed like an impossible task.
Eventually you managed to fall back into a fitful sleep. At some point, it occurred to you that Buck had told you to tell them if it got worse but you knew there was no way you could have handled the light from the screen.
The next thing you were vaguely aware of was the sun glaring through the window. You slowly curled into yourself and threw the blankets over your head.
What felt like only minutes later, the bed dipped on either side of you. Then a hand started rubbing up and down your back as the covers were pulled back. “Full migraine set in?” Eddie asked.
You hummed a response, unwilling to even nod your head.
“I knew we should have come home,” Buck said softly. “You were supposed to call if it got worse.”
Whining, you gestured with just a finger to where your phone was. “Too far. Too bright,” you mumbled, trying to pull the cover back up.
One of them ran a hand over the top of your head.
“Have you taken your sumatriptan?” Eddie started to pull the covers further down already assuming the answer.
“No. I hate it.” The autoinjector medication always burned and left a bruise behind. Eddie stood and then you heard the bathroom cabinet open and close before he came back.
“We know you do, baby,” Buck tried to sooth you. “But it'll make you feel better.”
You shifted just enough to bury your face against Buck’s hip. He took your hand as Eddie wiped a cold alcohol wipe across your thigh. You tensed up waiting for the injection.
“Breathe, amor,” Eddie encouraged. He waited through a couple deep breaths before pushing the spring-loaded injector against your leg.
You whimpered at the sting and following burn as the medication entered the muscle.
“All done.” Eddie leaned down and pressed kisses all around the now sore spot.
Buck continued to run his hand over your head and carefully through your hair. “Do you think you can drink some water?”
Despite your nausea, you agreed. “I can try.”
Buck left to fill your favorite tumblr with ice water. “I have water, hot packs, and ice packs,” he announced when he returned.
“Don't wanna move.”
Buck held the straw of the tumbler to your lips so you could take a few sips. Next, he popped the heat packs and set them by your pillow. Eddie carefully lifted you just enough to shift you so that the heat packs were against the back of your neck. Finally, Buck set the wrapped ice pack across your forehead.
They took turns changing out of their work clothes and then both settled into the bed on either side of you.
“Try to get some more sleep,” Eddie suggested.
Both of them peppered you with soft, soothing touches and eventually you managed to doze off.
When you woke, you felt substantially better than you had. There was still quite a bit of nausea and some aches with the much more bearable headache.
You looked to your left and found Buck sound asleep. Smiling at how peaceful he looked, you took his hand and kissed his knuckles. Then, you looked to your right and found Eddie watching you. His phone sat on the bed like he'd just set it down when you woke up.
“Hi,” you greeted, reaching over to touch his arm.
“How ya feeling?”
“A little better. Maybe seventy percent,” you said.
You felt the bed shift from the other side and Buck rolled and kissed your shoulder.
“Are you hungry?” Eddie asked.
“I'm still nauseous, but I think maybe it's because I need to eat something.” You shrugged. “Or maybe my stomach will revolt if I try. Guess we will find out.”
Buck kissed your shoulder once more. “How about you go take a nice relaxing bath and Eddie and I will go make you your favorite chicken and orzo soup?”
“God, yes. I love you.”
Buck pushed to stand beside the bed and leaned down to kiss you one more time. “I love you, too.”
Eddie rolled off the bed as well and disappeared into the bathroom. After turning on the water to fill the tub, he returned. “Do you want to walk or be carried?” he asked as if he didn't already know the answer.
You lifted your arms for him to lift you. He pulled you to sitting and then wrapped his arms around your waist and effortlessly picked you up. You wound your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.
After setting you on the bathroom counter, he took the hem of your shirt in his hands and lifted the material over your head. He continued to remove all your clothes before quickly stripping himself.
You bit your bottom lip as you let your gaze linger on his chest and arms.
Eddie ran his thumb across your lip to free it. “You got a little drool there,” he teased.
“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “Wait. I thought you were helping Buck.”
“You want burnt food?”
“He wouldn't let you burn it,” you argued. “You've gotten a lot better.”
“Fair enough, but he doesn't need help. I figured you might.” He reached over and grabbed one of your claw clips off the counter. “Want to wash your hair or no?”
You considered it. While the scalp massage you knew you'd get sounded incredible, you really didn't want to deal with wet hair even if he would dry it for you. “Uh, no. I don't want to deal with it right now.”
He nodded his acknowledgment and shifted you so he was behind you. He carefully gathered all your hair and loosely twisted it before placing the claw clip to keep it out of the water.
He stepped into the tub and offered you his hand to help you in. You both settled down into the warmth and bubbles and you sighed as your muscles started to relax.
For awhile, you just rested contentedly against Eddie’s chest as he massaged your arms and hips. He pressed kisses all along your neck and shoulder until you thought you might just melt into a puddle. “Lean forward for me,” he requested when the water started to cool.
You did as he asked and he stood and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. Then, he grabbed another towel and offered you a hand to help you stand. He wrapped the towel around you and helped you step out.
After he led you back into the bedroom, he quickly dressed and then helped you dry off. “Shorts or sweats?” he asked as he grabbed a pair of his boxers for you.
“Mmm, sweats and fuzzy socks.”
He nodded and pulled out one of his shirts, Buck’s sweatpants, his hoodie, and a pair of your socks. Then, he proceeded to dress you completely before pulling you out of the room and into the kitchen that smelled heavenly.
“Did the bath help?” Buck asked.
You nodded. “A bit, yeah.”
Buck smiled and kissed your forehead. “Good. This is almost done. Go find something you want to watch and I'll bring it in. Gatorade or ginger ale?”
“Gatorade, please.”
You settled on the couch with Eddie and he pulled your feet into his lap. He started to massage one foot while he scrolled through the streaming apps. “What about Psych?” he asked.
“Hmm, no.” You shook your head. “I'm not feeling something funny. Laughing might make my headache come back.”
“Good point,” he agreed. “What about White Collar?”
“No way,” you argued. “We're almost to the part where Kate dies. I don't want to watch that today.”
He snorted. “Do you have a suggestion then?”
You thought about it for a second. “We could watch some more Dexter.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So plane explosion death is a no but murder and dismemberment is fine?”
“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes and immediately regretted it, rubbing your hand across your forehead to sooth the added ache. “Bad guys versus love interests. It's totally different.”
“She's right, it is different,” Buck defends as he sets a bowl on the coffee table beside you.
“Thanks, babe,” you lift the bowl and smell the delicious aroma. Your stomach immediately growls loudly. “Well, I guess, I'll take that as a good sign.”
Buck settles into the couch and pulls you into his side. “My turn.”
“You can't just hog her,” Eddie complains as he flips through the TV to start the show.
Buck pouts. “You've had her in the bath all to yourself for almost an hour.”
You chuckle. “Did you both forget how to share?”
They both just glare at each other but you can tell both are trying not to laugh.
You take a big bite of the orzo noodles and moan in appreciation. Once you've swallowed you smile. “If you two want to go screw like you hate each other, I'm good here… actually, scratch that. I will find a comfy chair and watch.”
They both cracked up.
“How about you just focus on eating,” Buck suggested.
You took another bite, glad that your body wasn't revolting. As you chewed you realized something. “Why are you guys not eating?”
Eddie grabbed your feet to resume his massaging. “We ate earlier while you were sleeping.”
“Sweet!” You shimmy in your seat in a tiny happy dance. “More leftovers for me!”
“God, you're adorable,” Buck says as they both smile at your antics.
The next twenty minutes are quiet as you slowly eat and focus on the TV. Once you’ve decided you can't possibly eat more, you set the bowl back on the table.
“Feel better?” Eddie asks.
You nod as you shift to lean against Eddie and pull Buck over to lay his head in your lap. “Much. Nausea is gone and headache is just a dull, barely there pain.”
“Good.” Buck grabs the hand you set on his head and pulls it to his mouth to press a kiss on your knuckles. “Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you, too.”
Eddie leans over to whisper in your ear, “I love you more.”
You laugh as Buck reaches over and pinches Eddie’s thigh. “My earlier offer still stands.”
Buck snuggles in against your leg. “Maybe later. I'm comfy.”
“Hey, when this is over can we watch the movie I started last night?” you requested.
Eddie nodded. “Of course. Can we start over though so Buck and I know what's going on?”
“Yes, please. I probably missed more than I thought because of the aura.” You settle in knowing you're going to spend a whole lazy day cuddled with your favorite guys.
Poly!Buddie who are both equally protective of you.
Poly!Buddie who come home after shift to find you curled up asleep on the sofa with Christopher and Theo. They love to take cute pictures of you.
Poly!Buddie who also want a baby with you. Ideally two. They wouldn’t care who the father is because they’d both bring them up as if they were their own. But ideally they’d want one to be Buck’s and one to be Eddie’s.
Poly!Buddie who are both so possessive of you.
Poly!Buddie who love to compete in the bedroom. For example who can make you cum quicker.
Poly!Buddie who love fucking each other as much as they love fucking you.
Poly!Buddie who will do absolutely anything for you.
Poly!Buddie who constantly tells you how much they love you. And each other.
Poly!Buddie who love to cuddle with you after sex. Although Buck’s hands tend to wander and ends up with multiple rounds of sex.
Poly!Buddie who both propose to you. They know legally they can’t both marry you, but they’d settle for both of them being your fiancée. They also propose to one another. So you’re their fiancee, Eddie is Buck’s and your fiancee and Buck is yours and Eddie’s fiancee. It probably sounds crazy to everyone else but to you it makes sense.
An unplanned nap exposes your secret relationship to the 118. Buddie x Reader
Smoke wafted from the open oven as the shrill fire alarm echoed around the suburban house. The remains of what was meant to be a surprise date night dinner was now a mix of embers and ash. While not ideal it was much better than the blaze it was a few minutes prior.
Your heart was still pounding as you directed the smoke towards the open window above the sink by violently waving a hand towel. The rude awakening from your unintentional nap had it pounding so fast it felt like it was going to take off. The only bright side was that you were home alone, so no scaring Chris with nearly emergencies. And you’d even have time to air out the house and clean out the oven, hiding this embarrassing incident from your partners.
10 minutes earlier
Buck and Eddie were nearing the end of a 24hr shift that had managed to hit the sweet spot of busy but uneventful. The team had been called out enough that they had no chance to pay attention to the time, and the calls had been straightforward and all in all relatively successful. Both men were therefore in good spirits, sneaking smiles and soft touches.
Three months into Eddie's probation year the rest of the 118 were still unaware of the nature of their relationship, bar Bobby, of course, who they were obligated to disclose their relationship to. Buck knew the rest of the team would be accepting of his relationship with Eddie, especially since they'd proven time and again that their relationship didn't cause issues for their work partnership. However, he was more hesitant to open up when you and Chris were involved. Not wanting his untraditional relationship to cause rifts with his team he was starting to view as family. Eddie on the other hand had no such qualms, not needing the same validation. He was just waiting for Bucks go ahead so he could loudly show off those he loved most.
But for now they were sitting on opposite ends on the sofa in the station's loft, having enjoyed a break in the calls. It was short lived however as the blare of the bells started echoing around the firehouse. The crew redacted swiftly and were dressed and peeling out of the station in under two mintues.
"Alright team, looks like we have a fire in a free standing residential building. A neighbour called it in, saw smoke billowing out from the eastern side of the house but didn't see flames." Bobby informed from his captains chair at the front of the engine. "Not sure if there are any occupants inside so we may need to do a thorough sweep of the house." He nodded at Buck and Eddie, indicating they'd be heading straight in to investigate. "We're two minutes out,"
Eddie gave Buck a soft smile, before glimpsing out the window to see that they are in a very familiar neighbourhood. "Uh cap, where exactly are we headed to?"
"House is on South Bedford St,"
"Shit," Buck muttered under his breath, eyes meeting Eddie's. Still he reasoned that it was a long street, the likelihood it was their house was low.
As the truck swiftly turned the corner and pulled to a sharp halt in front of 4995 South Bedford Street both of their stomachs dropped.
Wasting no time they hauled themselves out the engine and up the familiar driveway.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
You were wafting away at the smoke when you heard the front door slam open and thudding footsteps echo in the front hallway. A frantic shout of "Baby" followed and you knew you'd been caught.
"In here," you muttered, resigned.
Eddie and Buck quickly making their way into the kitchen, greeted by your sheepish grin.
"Oh thank god," Eddie murmered, wrapping you in a hug. Buck quickly joined, a soft kiss placed on your forehead.
"What happened?" Buck questioned, keeping you tucked between him and Eddie.
"Well it was suppose to be our dinner. But I made the dual mistake of not putting on a timer and having an impromptu nap."
"That'll do it," Eddie agreed. "We're just glad you're okay." The arms from both sides squeezed a little tighter and you pressed your head into Eddie's chest and you felt the delayed panic of the last ten minutes hit you full force.
The comforting hands that stroked your back quickly halted when you heard a pointed cough from the doorway.
"Oh hey Hen, Chim." Buck squeaked. "As you can see the fire is already contained."
"We can see that bud. Seems like it's not the only thing thats' contained, maybe you two can stop smothering our patient so we can check for smoke inhalation,"
"I'll do the assessment," Eddie almost growled, shifting you onto one of the dinning table chairs. "Buck can you grab a wet cloth please. Might as well bring some water as well,"
Buck rushed down the hall, coming back seconds later with the cloth in one hand and your water bottle that lives on the bedside table in the other.
Eddie began his assessment, while Hen was looking at the three of you suspiciously.
"Buck, how'd you know where to go? And Eddie why are you being so possessive?"
You and Eddie both turned to Buck, ready to take his lead on how to answer. He gave a resigned smile and you mouthed the word 'sorry'. Bobby gave a soft chuckle from the side of the room, clearly cottoning on to whats going on.
"Right well, this is my house. Our house,"
"Oh, so this is your flatmate? Or partner?"
"No. Well yes we are partners," Buck backtracked, introducing you to the team. "But I mean OUR house, Eddie's too."
"Oh, Eddie's become your roommate. That's sweet." Chim chuckled.
Buck could have taken the out, but he decided he was tired of hiding the most important people in his life, Chris included.
"Not just roommate. We're partners, all of us." Chim and Hen's mouths opened in shock and a few moments of tense silenced followed. Buck's easy smile began to slowly fall.
"This better not be a problem," Eddie deadpanned, eyes going back and forth between Hen and Chim "I would be very dissapointed if you judge how other people decide to love."
"No, sorry of course not. We we're just surprised," Hen placated, while Chimney nodded in the background. "But love? I think I was assuming this is new, since Eddie started at the 118."
"Not new, in fact we've been together for years," You confirmed.
"We also have a son, Christopher. Chris. He's eight, and is the most amazing kid." Buck confessed, all three of you smiling thinking of the final member of the family.
"He is a bit bias as Chris is basically Buck's mini-me,"
"Which Eddie never fails to point out when Chris gets in trouble. Yet we all know where he gets his sass from."
"I don't know how you managed to miss this," Bobby finally spoke up. " They clearly have been acting like an old married couple this whole time,"
You meet Buck at a bar and you are the first to not fall for his charms but he’s going to damn well try to impress you.
Cheers to You
Buck gets a new camera and wanting nothing more than to take photos of his favorite subject.
Pose
Buck and your daughter, Sophie make cookies together.
Give Me Some Sugar
After many failed attempts to set you up with someone, Hen and Karen finally decide to set you up with Buck since you both seem to have so much in common. But when you both decline, you keep seeing him around town which leads you begin to wonder if maybe it's fate that you're meant to be together.
One Single Thread of Gold Tied Me to You
You show Buck your new outfit and he’s more than happy to show you how much he loves it.
Take it All Off (18+)
Buck unexpectedly shows up on your doorstep after a night of drinking years after you broke up.
It's Only Me and You
Seeing that you don't want to go to an awards show alone, your bodyguard, Buck, offers to accompany you.
Just Like I Imagined (18+)
Taylor Swift series
You and Buck have a one night stand only to find that your world is a lot smaller than you initially thought.
Dress (18+)
Say Don’t Go
I Can Do It With a Broken Heart
Soon You'll Get Better
Sweet Nothing
Bad Blood
Requests
prompt request: “We need to talk about last night.” (18+)
prompt request: “Please don’t cry.”
request: Buck gives you a massage after a long day
request: you and Buck have makeup sex after being broken up for a week (18+)
request: taking Christmas photos with your boyfriend Buck
request: Everyone knows that you and Buck have feelings for each other, but the two of you are in denial because you don't want to hurt each other
You and Buck share fun facts on shift
You and Buck are friends with benefits and after an argument, you make amends as well as big confessions (18+)
You and Buck think about your future as you eat your first meal in your new apartment together
Buck is caught off guard by how flirty the new probie is
Buck x shy!probie!reader
You're the newest member of the 118 and Buck will stop at nothing to tease you as a form of flirting and you believe that he doesn't like you, but Eddie is going to do whatever he can to set the two of you up.
Slugger
Angel
Honey
Sweetheart
Baby (18+)
Mama
Taking a Big Whisk
You're Buck’s neighbor who doesn’t like him, but he’s hoping that a batch of cookies will make you change your mind.
part one
part two
Eddie Diaz
Eddie knows you have a boyfriend, but he’s going to do everything in his power to get you to break up with him.
Breakup (18+)
request: you and Eddie end up being forced to share a hotel room during a storm which brings you closer (18+)
request: there’s nothing more that Eddie loves than eating you out (18+)
request: you and Eddie confuse your sexual tension for hatred (18+)
request: you and Eddie can't deny your attraction to one another (18+)
request: you catch Eddie masturbating and help him finish the job which ends in a love confession from the both of you (18+)
request: you and Eddie end up in the back of his truck yet again (18+)
Buddie x reader
You and Buck compete for Eddie's attention until he offers up a key to his hotel room to the both of you.
Just a Taste (18+)
You and Eddie are in a relationship only to realize that you both are also harboring romantic feelings for Buck. Little do all three of you know that you're all actually in love with each other. Maybe you'll all find out before it's too late.
Never Too Late
You and Eddie are in a secret relationship and Buck wants to be apart of it, only for you to reject him. But when a new member joins the 118 and starts flirting with Buck, you and Eddie realize that you actually do like him.
Maybe I Do
After falling asleep to your favorite TV show, you somehow end up in the universe and are shocked to find out that your in a relationship with your two favorite characters.
Live Your Fantasy (1) (discontinued)
Live your Fantasy (2)
request: your boyfriends Buck and Eddie help you distress after a long day (18+)
Bobby Nash
Buck and Eddie take Bobby to a club to meet someone and while he intends to go home alone, he ends up forming an unexplainable bond with you.
Would you maybe write a poly!Buddie x diabetic reader? Something where she gets the flu and between the illness and vomiting she just can't keep her sugars in a good place. Buck and Eddie stay close with glucose and insulin and test strips trying to keep her balanced enough so she can rest.
Title: Sick Day Protocol
Summary: Your body stops following its own rules overnight, and Buck and Eddie don't sleep until it does again.
Tags: disabled!reader, type 1 diabetes, sick day, hypoglycaemia, hyperglycaemia, ketones mentioned, fever, nausea, hurt/comfort, overnight care, three in the morning tenderness, buck does research and isn't embarrassed about it, eddie is a medic and it shows, soft intimacy, no use of y/n, the boys stay up, glucose gel and juice boxes, fear you don't name out loud, not a burden here, slow morning after, congee as an act of love, CGM mentioned, the numbers climbing and you watching them together, steadiness as devotion
Word Count: 3.6k words.
You wake up already knowing.
Not the slow, cotton-soft surfacing from sleep that happens on good mornings—this is a full-body announcement, your joints aching the way they do when something viral has been quietly colonising you overnight, diffuse and insistent, spreading through your elbows and knees and the specific miserable geography of your lower back. You lie still for a moment and catalogue. Fever coming. Blood sugar heading somewhere you don't want it to.
Your CGM confirms it before you've sat up. The arrow's pointing straight up, your glucose already twenty points higher than your waking average, your body doing exactly what it always does when something's wrong—cortisol and adrenaline flooding in, dumping glucose into your blood as if that's going to help anything, as if your pancreas has just been shy about producing insulin this whole time and really just needed the right incentive. It hasn't. It won't. That's the whole cruel joke of it. You feel the high behind your eyes already, a dry pressurised heat, a thickness in your thoughts that has nothing to do with being newly awake.
You text Buck before you get off the bed. Feeling rough. Sugar's going up. Don't panic. Then, because he'll panic anyway: I'm managing it.
His reply comes in under a minute. I'm on my way home after shift. Don't be a hero, eat something.
You make a face at your phone and go to find the thermometer.
By midmorning you've migrated to the sofa, wrapped in the blanket that lives over the back of it—the one that smells like Eddie's fabric softener—and the thermometer's beeping at you with news you don't want. Thirty-eight point four. Your CGM is still pointing up. You do the mental arithmetic you've done a thousand times: correction bolus, scaled up for the insulin resistance that always comes with fever, get water in, check for ketones in a few hours, don't rage-bolus just because the number's annoying you.
You give yourself a correction. You drink water in careful sips. You try to watch something on the telly and can't follow it.
Then the nausea arrives—not building, just crashing—and your body makes the decision before your brain does, and then you're on the bathroom floor with your cheek against cool porcelain, your whole body heaving, bringing up water and acid and nothing good. The worst part isn't the retching itself. The worst part is the thought that arrives very clearly through it: the insulin's already in.
You threw up the water. Your stomach is empty. Your correction bolus is working its way through your bloodstream right now with absolutely nothing to work against.
The fear comes in sideways, quiet and cold.
You've been here before. You know what happens next. Your sugar is going to fall the way a stone falls—not gradually, not with the courtesy of a warning, just a brief moment of being airborne and then the ground coming up fast. You sit back against the wall and look at the receiver you'd carried in. The arrow's still pointing up for now, the correction not having hit yet, but you're watching a clock you can't see.
You try a glucose tablet. Your stomach rejects the idea before it's even dissolved.
Time goes strange when your blood sugar moves fast—thoughts arriving at a delay, the world slightly underwater. You're on your side on the tiles, the floor blessedly cold against your cheek, when you hear the front door. Buck's keys: he clips them to a carabiner on his bag and the sound is specific, metallic, familiar from two rooms away the same way you know his footstep on the stairs. You try to say something but your mouth isn't cooperating, so you wait.
He finds you in thirty seconds.
"Hey—okay." He doesn't say what happened or oh my god. He just drops to the floor beside you in one clean motion, one hand already reaching for your receiver off the tile. You watch his face—you know his face better than most things—and you see the exact moment he reads the number. Fifty-eight and a double-down arrow. His jaw sets, that particular held-in stillness that isn't calm but is the control he applies over calm, the thing he does when he's working a scene and can't let anything show. It's different from Eddie's stillness. Buck's stillness costs him something. You can see it in the small muscle at the corner of his jaw.
He doesn't panic. Not outwardly.
But his jaw does that thing, and you love him so much it hurts even through the hypo fog.
"Sugar's low," he says, voice level, already reaching into the small zip bag in his jacket pocket. He started carrying it after the third time you went hypoglycaemic somewhere inconvenient—he'd read articles and a forum post and presented it to you with the energy of someone who'd built something with their hands. He uncaps a glucose gel and looks at you. "Can you chew anything?"
You shake your head. Your stomach rolls at the thought.
"Okay. Inside of your cheek." He goes slow—squeezing the gel in careful increments, watching you swallow reflexively, his free hand warm and steady on your shoulder. "There you go. Keep breathing. That's it."
The gel is cloyingly, aggressively sweet—artificial tropical fruit, like someone described a mango to a chemist who'd never seen one—and you're so grateful for it you could cry. You might be crying. It's genuinely hard to tell. Low blood sugar does this: floods you with a grief that doesn't belong to anything real, fills the space behind your eyes with something that feels like loss but isn't. You hate it—not the crying itself, but the way it makes you feel ridiculous, a person coming undone over nothing, unable to explain that this isn't actually how you feel, it's just your brain screaming for glucose in the only language distress knows.
"I'm not—" you start.
"I know," Buck says. Just that. He doesn't need you to explain and he's not going to make you.
He stays on the floor with you, back against the bath, legs out, watching the receiver and calling out the numbers as they shift. Fifty-nine. Sixty-one. Sixty-three. He says them the way a doctor might—informational, something to track—but underneath them you can hear the particular relief he's trying not to perform.
He's still there when you hear Eddie's key in the lock.
Eddie takes one look from the doorway—you on the floor, Buck beside you, the open glucose gel on the tile—and his face does the thing it does on a difficult call: it settles into something focused and very quiet. He was an army medic before this. He's worked in considerably worse places than a bathroom floor. He doesn't exclaim or hover. He just crouches down, forearms on his knees, and looks at Buck.
"How long?"
"Twenty minutes on the floor. I got here maybe five minutes after. She dosed a correction and then threw up." Buck holds up the receiver. "Fifty-eight when I found her, double-down arrow. She's climbing."
"Ketones?"
"Not yet."
"Okay." He looks at you, and his voice drops into that particular register—low and even, the one he uses with Christopher when Christopher's frightened and Eddie needs to be the steadier thing in the room. "Think you can make it to bed?"
"Probably," you say. Your voice comes out rough, scraped.
"Come on, then." He stands and offers his hand.
Between them it's entirely undignified and they both pretend it isn't, and you make it to the bed and sink into the mattress like it's been waiting for you all day. Which it has. You've been waiting for it too.
You end up against Eddie's chest, your back to him, his arms loosely around you from behind. He positions himself so he can feel your breathing through his own ribs—a medic thing, or maybe just an Eddie thing. Buck is already in the hallway, phone to his ear, his voice low and efficient on the endocrinologist's after-hours line.
Eddie sets a timer. Fifteen minutes.
"I feel stupid," you say.
"You shouldn't."
"I did everything right. I gave a correction and then I threw up and now it's all—"
"Hey." His arms tighten slightly. "You did do everything right. Your body stopped following the rules. That's not the same thing as you doing something wrong."
"I know that."
"Say it like you know it."
You don't say anything. He waits with the patience of someone who has all the time there is.
"I know that," you say again, differently.
"Yeah. That's better." A pause, his thumb moving in a slow circle against your arm. "You're not an inconvenience. You're sick, and we're here. That's the whole situation."
Buck comes back with a notepad—actual paper, because Buck processes information better when he writes it down—and reads you what your endo said, point by point. Check ketones now and again in two hours. Go conservative with corrections—not because you need less insulin, but because you can't eat to rescue a low if it overshoots and your stomach's empty. Small doses, longer waits, don't chase the number. Sip fluids even if they come back up—small amounts, often. Clear broth if you can manage it. A&E threshold: moderate or large ketones, or nothing staying down for more than two to three hours.
He reads it all aloud even though he clearly went through it on the phone, and you understand without him saying so that he's doing it for you—because hearing the plan makes it real, makes it a thing being managed rather than a thing doing the managing.
"Okay," you say when he's finished.
"Okay," he says back. He tears the page out and sets it on the nightstand.
Eddie reaches across you for the ketone strips. The first test comes back trace.
"Good," he says, with the economy of someone for whom good means acceptable, continue.
"I'll check again in two hours."
"We'll check again in two hours," Buck says, and the we sits in the room like something solid.
The night comes apart into intervals. Your blood sugar refuses to behave—it spikes when the fever climbs back up in the small hours, craters when the nausea returns and your stomach empties again, and the conservative corrections that should be enough to nudge things down keep overshooting because there's nothing in your stomach to buffer them if they drop too far. You're reading a map that keeps redrawing itself. Eddie swaps out the cool cloth on your forehead without ceremony. Buck makes broth from the stock in the back of the cupboard and brings it in smelling of the kitchen, and you manage three sips before your stomach says no and you hand the mug back and apologise.
"Stop apologising," Buck says.
"I keep making work for you."
"You keep existing while sick," he says, with a firmness that takes you by surprise. "Which isn't the same thing." He sets the mug down and sits back on the bed. "I looked up sick-day protocols for T1 diabetes months before you ever ended up unwell on my watch. Because I wanted to understand it—not just the emergency stuff, the actual logic of it."
"I know," you say. "I found the browser history."
"I'm not embarrassed."
"I know that too."
He grins, brief and crooked, and the familiar shape of it does something warm to the fear that's been sitting in the bottom of your chest all evening.
It's Eddie who first says the thing neither of you has said yet. He's against the headboard with you half-leaning on him, rewrapping the cool cloth, and he says it without looking up.
"Ketones are still trace. Trend's been stable for the last hour—still higher than I'd like, but it's not climbing and it's not dropping. We're not going to A&E tonight."
You go still. "Was that on the table?"
A beat. "It was on the table."
Buck nods from the other side of the bed. "For about forty minutes."
Something loosens in you that you hadn't known was still clenched. Not seeing it in the dark had made it larger than it would've been in the light. You exhale and sink a little further into the pillows.
"Thank you for not telling me."
"You'd have worried," Eddie says. "Stress raises blood sugar. Seemed counterproductive."
Buck falls asleep sitting up somewhere after midnight—gradually and then completely, his head tipping sideways and his breathing deepening, his hand still loosely around yours, your fingertips slightly tacky with glucose gel from the second administration and the third. You watch him for a moment. He looks younger asleep, the easy competence he wears like a second skin going soft around the edges, and underneath it is whoever he was before he learned to hold things together so well. Something in your chest does something quiet.
The lamp is on its lowest setting. The room is dark gold and still.
Your CGM buzzes at three in the morning—the soft overnight alert, not the full alarm, because you knew tonight was going to be a moving target and you didn't want four separate alarms waking everyone. Eddie's already awake. You're not sure he ever properly slept. He reaches for the juice box on the nightstand in the same motion as opening his eyes and reads your receiver before you've surfaced.
"Sixty-two," he says quietly. "Dropping. Drink this."
He passes you the juice box. Your hands are slightly unsteady—that fine motor tremor that comes with lows, the particular indignity of your own hands not quite cooperating—and he keeps his hand around yours without making anything of it while you drink.
"Good," he says when you've finished. He checks the time. "Fifteen minutes, then recheck."
"Eddie." Your voice comes out smaller than you intended.
He waits.
"Thank you for staying awake."
He considers this the way he considers most things—not performing the thought but actually doing it. "I wasn't going to sleep through a sixty-two when you've been spiking and dropping all night," he says. "That's not a sacrifice. That's the maths."
"It's not just the maths."
He looks at you for a moment. The corner of his mouth moves—not quite a smile, but in the same family.
"No," he agrees. "It's not just the maths."
You watch the numbers together. Sixty-five. Sixty-eight. Seventy-one. Buck's breathing is slow and even across the bed. The night holds its shape around you, a long careful dark, and you watch the numbers climb and let yourself be held inside it.
Morning arrives the way winter mornings do—reluctantly, grey-first, the light through the curtains the colour of cold tea. You lie in it a moment and take stock. Your fever's pulled back, not gone but quieter, no longer the teeth-gritting thing that had your whole body clenched around its own heat source. Your overnight graph looks like a landscape that's been through weather—rolling, uneven, marked by last night's storms—but the last four hours are calmer, a gentle undulation rather than a cliff face. Messy-stable. Survivable.
Buck wakes before you've properly registered you're conscious, with that sixth sense he has for when you're awake.
"Numbers?"
"Steady since about four. Mostly."
"Ketones?"
"Still trace at two."
He makes a face that's roughly seventy percent relief and thirty percent I was not worried at all, which is a lie both of you know. "Okay," he says. "I'm making you something to eat."
"Buck—"
"I read about congee." He's already getting up. "Plain, easy on the stomach. I have the ingredients."
"When did you get the ingredients?"
He pauses in the doorway. The tips of his ears go slightly pink. "Last week. I was thinking ahead."
You look at him for a moment. He looks back, unembarrassed—Buck has never once been embarrassed about caring about the people he loves, and it's one of the things about him that makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with being ill.
"Thank you," you say.
"Don't make it weird," he says, and disappears toward the kitchen.
Eddie is still in bed beside you, watching you with that quiet attention that's different from Buck's—less expressive, more constant, a long exposure against a flash. He puts the back of his hand against your forehead without asking, the old medic's instinct that never quite switches off.
"Fever's down."
"I know."
"How are you feeling. Actually."
You think about it. "Like I went twelve rounds with something that fights dirty. But like I won."
He nods as if this is an acceptable clinical assessment. Then he swings his legs over the side of the bed and reorganises your nightstand with the focused efficiency of someone laying out a field station—which is exactly what it is. Glucose gel within reach. Ketone strips beside it. Insulin pen and needles in a row. Receiver on the charger. Fresh water and two more juice boxes. Everything in its place, everything accessible, the whole careful geography of your management tools arranged with a precision that says I thought about this while you were sleeping.
You watch him do it. There isn't anything to say that would fit inside it.
"Eddie."
He looks up.
"Stop apologising," he says, before you've said anything.
"I wasn't—"
"You were making the face."
You close your mouth. He goes back to the nightstand.
Buck reappears holding a bowl with the careful pride of someone bearing an offering, which he is. The congee is plain and pale and smells of almost nothing, which is precisely what your stomach needs right now. He sets it on your lap and sits on the edge of the bed and watches you with the elaborate casualness of someone who is absolutely not watching you.
"You looked it up," you say.
"I told you I looked it up."
"You said you read about it. That implies one article."
"I read several articles. And a Reddit thread."
"A Reddit thread," Eddie repeats, with a tone that communicates exactly what he thinks of Reddit as a medical resource.
"A very helpful Reddit thread," Buck says, with dignity. "People with diabetes talking about what they eat when they're sick. Relevant information."
You eat a spoonful. Bland, warm, easy—a small mercy from your own stomach. You eat another and wait. Your arrow sits flat. You eat a third spoonful and a fourth, and by the sixth you're aware of the way Buck's shoulders have dropped, the tension he carries when he's managing worry releasing incrementally, a valve slowly turning. When you get to eight and keep them down he does a quiet fist pump from the edge of the bed—small, contained, just a brief clench of his hand—then clearly decides he didn't do that.
"I saw that," you say.
"You didn't see anything."
Eddie leans over and presses his lips to your temple, warm and dry and certain, staying a moment longer than passing, long enough that it can't be called incidental.
"Your numbers look good."
His voice lands somewhere below your ears, settles in your sternum, in the place where all the fear from last night still lives a little—the fear you were sensible enough not to name out loud, the fear that lives beside every bad sick day, when your body stops following its own rules and the careful systems you've built start showing their limits. It loosens, slowly. Not all at once. But it loosens—a fist opening, the thing it was gripping finally set down.
You slide back down against the pillows. The morning light coming through the curtains has softened from grey into something almost gold, thin and watery, the way it gets in January when the cloud shifts just enough to let the sun through without committing to it. Your fever's still there at the edges—a warmth that doesn't belong to the room temperature—but quieter now. A thing you're managing rather than a thing managing you.
Buck lies down on one side of you, and Eddie's already on the other, and the room is warm and still and full of the sound of all three of you breathing.
You think about last night in pieces: the bathroom floor, the juice box, the low voice at three in the morning already reaching for what you needed before you'd surfaced. Buck's hand around yours for hours, your fingers tacky with glucose gel. The notepad. The timer. The way they'd passed information back and forth with the quiet efficiency of two people who've worked emergencies together long enough to have a shorthand—except this time the emergency was you, and neither of them had seemed to mind that at all.
You're too tired to feel the full weight of it. But you feel the outline—its shape and size, a thing too large to hold all at once.
Buck says, quietly, to the ceiling: "For the record, I was very calm."
"You were extremely calm," you agree.
"I didn't panic even a little."
"Your jaw did the thing."
A pause. "My jaw was also very calm."
Eddie makes a sound beside you that is probably the closest he gets to laughing when he's tired—low, brief, genuine—and you feel it more than hear it, warm against your shoulder.
You close your eyes. The morning holds the room, grey-gold and quiet, and you let the two of them be exactly what they are—steady, and here, and yours—and you let yourself be held by it in return, soft and still, the long dark of last night finally resolved into something as simple and as whole as this.
summary: you and eddie sleep together, nothing more. but when he walks in on you patching up buck his jealousy arises and confessions ensue...
word count: 1.6k
warnings: buddie x reader, angst, pre-established fwb (eddie x reader), love confessions, buck 0.1 shining through, jealous diaz, eddie having doubts
notes: thoughts on maybe a fic where reader is sleeping with both of them- turns into a buddie x reader fic?
masterlist
divider credit: @v6que
Buck hisses as you dab the wounds on his torso with antiseptic. He’s sat on the bench in the station's locker room with you standing between his legs.
“You’re such a baby.”, you tease, eyes focused on patching him up but still amused. “You’re barely even bleeding.”
The injuries scattered along Buck’s chest truly weren’t that bad, just minor cuts and scrapes. Most of the blood had already dried but you still wanted to get him cleaned up and make sure he was okay to continue his shift. Plus Buck had insisted you play nurse because he was ‘suffering’.
“Maybe I just liked the attention.”, he grins, leaning into your touch a little more than necessary.
You roll your eyes, unsuccessfully fighting the smile that tugs at your lips. “I’m sure you do.”
His eyes flicker momentarily down to where you’re touching him then back up to your face, studying your focused expression. “You’re so gentle.”
“I don’t have to be.” Your attention turns to his face, the small red graze on his cheeks. Often you wondered how Buck was always getting so scraped up.
Buck huffs, mood still playful and light, “I wasn’t complaining.” He flinches at the sting on his cheek, eyes watering at the strong smell and feeling.
“I’d hope not.”, you hum. His light watery eyes stare up into yours, seeming to enjoy the feeling of your hands on him and having you take care of him. Your cheeks heat up at his gaze and flirting.
“I think we’re almost done.”, you announce, removing the damp cotton pad from his face. Buck’s face drops a little, a pang of disappointment coursing through him.
“Well thanks doc, what would I do without you?” His voice is laced with warmth and appreciation but also something else. Something flirtatious. It took the blond everything in his power to not pull you into him.
You and Buck flirted often but never had the two of you crossed the line like you and Eddie had. Where Eddie and you had a friends with benefits type of relationship, you and Buck hadn’t turned physical. The tension there was undeniable though.
You toss the bloodied cotton pad down on the bench beside him where it adds to the small pile. You go to take a step back to examine him but feel yourself tripping. Bucks hands are immediately either side of your waist steadying you.
Your own hands come down on Buck’s broad shoulders for balance. A moment of silence and tension hanging in the air as you both lock eyes, your faces and bodies only inches apart.
The moment stretches too long, too quiet, too intimate. All that tension threatening to boil over.
“Buck, Cap wants—”
Eddie stops mid sentence, freezing in the doorway to the locker room. Both yours and Buck’s head snap towards him.
Eddie's jaw ticks, his body tensing. You can see the flash of confusion on his face turn into anger or more specifically jealousy. You pull away from Buck, putting distance between yourself and him as if that would somehow change the image already in Eddie's head.
“Well don’t let me interrupt.”, Eddie mutters, voice tight and filled with a betrayed venom. Jaw clenched and fists tight he wastes no time in turning around and walking out.
“Eddie!”, you call out trailing after him. Buck jumps to his feet too, pulling on his work shirt. He doesn’t run after either of you though, hanging back to let you sort it. He had a feeling if Eddie was to see him again right away he’d be getting a right hook to the cheek bone.
“Eddie!”, you grab his arm after catching up. He stops, muscles tense under your touch. At first he doesn’t turn around, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
“Why don’t you go back to Evan. Seemed like the two of you were having a moment.”, he says bitterly, turning around to tower over you.
“Nothing happened.”
“Maybe not but something was about to. You were about to kiss. God, he looked like he wanted to take you right there and then.”, he musters out a humourless laugh.
You look at him in disbelief, your tone turning sharper, “Are you serious right now?” A scoff leaving your lips, you couldn’t believe how he was acting. Eddie was always the one who wanted your relationship to not be anything serious.
He starts to speak but you cut him off, your own anger flaring up. “Not that anything happened but even if it had, you have no right to be mad or react this way!”
It was true, but if you had been in Eddie’s place you’d have been jealous too. Right now anger clouded both of your judgements.
Eddie runs a hand down his face. “I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it?”, he says, frustration evident.
Your breath catches. The hurt buried underneath his frustration hits you harder than anything else he’s said.
“It was you who said you didn’t want anything serious.”, you remind him.
Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs, “Yeah, I did and you didn’t exactly disagree. Clearly you’re more than happy with the arrangement so you can go flirt and god knows what else with Buck.”
“Oh, don’t give me that!”
‘Why not?! I saw you two in there! I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him!”
Your heart pounds against your chest, adrenaline pumping through your body. “What about the way I look at you, Eddie, huh? Or what about the way Buck looks at you, vice versa? Does all of that mean nothing?”
“What?”, the brunette mutters, voice lower and not as harsh now that he’s been caught off guard.
“Why can’t you just say how you feel instead of pushing me away and getting pissed the minute someone else shows me attention?”,
“You wanna know how I feel? I love you, goddamn it.”, he snaps, blurting out the confession.
You blink at him with wide eyes. “You do?”
Eddies nods, breath hitching and shaky like the words physically pained him to admit. “I have for a while now. I just haven’t been brave enough to face it yet.”
From behind you Buck clears his throat turning the attention onto him. He looks nervous, trying to speak but coming up with nothing until he huffs in frustration. Hesitantly his eyes meet Eddies. “I’m not gonna pretend I haven’t wanted her too,” Buck says, eyes flicking to you with a brief, nervous smile. “But I’ve wanted you for just as long. I just didn’t think I was allowed to.”
Eddie takes a moment to try and process it all. You on the other hand are nowhere near as shocked. You give Buck a reassuring smile sensing his fear.
“I’m not trying to come between you two,” Buck continues glancing over at you for moral support. “But if there’s a chance that this could turn into something then- then I’m in.”
A beat passes and Buck starts to look rejected. Eddies glancing backwards and forwards between the pair of you as you both anxiously wait for some kind of response. You’re also amazed that the bell hasn’t rung yet.
“This is insane.”, he laughs quietly, half expecting this to be some kind of joke. His laugh isn’t bitter or mocking though, he wants this to be real. “You’re both standing here telling me you… what, love me? Want me? Want each other?”
“I guess that’s exactly what we’re saying.”, as the words leave your mouth Buck moves forward to loop an arm around your waist, the pair of you looking at the brunette expectantly with wide hopeful eyes.
You reach for Eddie’s hand, threading your fingers through his. “It doesn’t have to be complicated, Ed. Not unless we make it that way.”
His eyes drift down to his hand in yours, squeezing it. Buck offers him his hand too, holding it out for Eddie to take when he’s ready.
Eddie's reaction isn’t immediate, but after brief contemplation and seeing the vulnerability in both of your faces, he takes it. “I don’t know what happens now, or how this is supposed to work.”
“Neither do we.”, you say, offering him some assurance.
“We’ll figure it out together.” Buck can’t help but grin.
You smile softly, tugging them both a little closer. “So… does this mean we’re going to give this thing a go?”
“Guess it does.”, this time it sounds like Eddie has warmed up to the idea. He leans against you, his hand that isn't on you goes to Buck’s lower back which makes the blond blush.
You can’t help but giggle at the flush on his cheeks knowing yours were probably pretty similar. All tension from earlier has evaporated, replaced by a new giddy feeling.
“We should talk about this later. My place?”, you ask, gaze flickering between the two men as you wait for an answer.
“That’s perfect, Chris is at a sleepover tonight.”
Buck nods as well and that settles it. The three of you start walking back to join the crew slowly.
“Guess that means I get to boss both of you around now, huh?”, you tease, landing a smack to Buck’s butt as he walks ahead of you. He jumps slightly and jabs your side.
“You already do that.” Buck smirks suggestively. “But I’m into it.”
“God help us.” Eddie mutters under his breath, threading his fingers together and holding them in front of his mouth like a prayer. He grins though, watching you and Buck in front of him messing around. Chuckling when Buck’s eyes meet his.
