When Maddie's morning cup of decaf is interrupted by a persistent knocking at the door, she just knows it's Buck. Buck, her beloved baby brother, her pearl of great price, the biggest pain in her ass, having what is, no doubt, another crisis about his love life. Is it Tommy? Is it Eddie? Is it Taylor Goddamn Kelly?
Who knows. Truly.
She slowly pushes away from the kitchen table, forever grateful that her toddler, who would not have slept through this incessant banging, is already at school. Her belly, now at just over eight months, tilts her forward, causing her to waddle like a penguin across her living room and towards the noise.
She grips the handle and starts talking before she even opens the door.
"I told you, Buck, you've just gotta tell him--"
But it isn't Buck.
"Eddie," Maddie says, slightly louder and more shocked than she intended. "It's like, 9:30 in the morning, is everything okay?"
Taking him in, he doesn't look okay. His hair is wild, like he's been running his fingers through it over (and over) and over again. His cheeks are tomato pink and he's almost vibrating.
"Maddie. Hi. Hello. Good morning."
"Good morning, Eddie," she placates, putting on her best toddler-about-to-have-a-tantrum voice. "Would you like some coffee? It's decaf."
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Decaf's good."
He grabs his hair (again), pushes it out of his face (it wasn't in his face), and barrels through the front door and toward the kitchen.
By the time Maddie makes it back there, Eddie's standing and staring blankly at the coffee pot.
"Can you let me just--I'll just sneak in here--"
"I kissed Buck."
Maddie flops down on one of the chairs at the island.
"Okay, you wanna run that by me one more time?"
Eddie flings himself around, luckily catching himself with his hands on the other side of the little table from Maddie.
"I kissed him! He was taking Chris to school, and I walked up to Chris and I grabbed his head, like I do all the time, and kissed him on the top of the head, like I do, all the time, but then I just..."
With the patience of every saint in the communion, she waits for Eddie to finish his sentence.
"I grabbed his head. And I kissed him."
"On the lips?"
"No. On the forehead. He's tall. I keep forgetting."
Maddie takes a loud breath. Not as deep as she'd like, but the oxygen is good. At least that's what Chimney says when he has to deal with buckandeddie at work.
"Okay. And how do you feel about that?"
Somehow, Eddie's cheeks go from tomato pink to pomegranate magenta.
"I don't know, I mean. I. I think Buck will be unbelievably cool about it," Eddie rambles, speed increasing while his oxygen is definitely decreasing. "Like he's cool about everything. Christ, what was I thinking just moving back into his house that I abandoned, oh God, Maddie, does he think I abandoned him? I never wanted to, I never meant to--"
"Woah, there, Eddie, slow down." She's pretty sure that her brother's about to feel some kind of way if Eddie spontaneously combusts in her kitchen.
Eddie's breathing heavy, chest and shoulders cascading up and down with the air he's shoving in and out. His eyes are wide and, if Maddie's not mistaken, there are tears growing in his lash line.
"Eddie?" Maddie questions gently, moving her hand over his, a symbol of support in the echoes of his mind. "I think we might need an answer to that question."
"Which question?"
"How do you feel about it? That you kissed Buck on the forehead?"
She watches as he schools his face into something loud, and then quiet, and then dark. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Doesn't open them before he speaks.
"Like I want to kiss him again."
He opens his eyes, big and brown and full of tears. They meet hers, and, by the way his face is swimming in her vision, hers might match.
"Oh, Eddie."
"I know, Maddie," he continues frantically, pushing his free hand in and out of a fist on the table. "I can't ask that of him. I moved back in with him and he's been so unbelievably--"
"Cool," she adds on a laugh. "So you said."
"Maddie," Eddie groans.
"Eddie, Buck has never been cool. Not a day in his life. Especially not about you."
He freezes in his shoes, fist halfway curled open like some sort of claw.
"What do you mean?"
"Eddie. Come on. He's crazy about you. I've known it from the beginning."
His face, wide and open, apparently needs a little more information than that.
"Look, I called his crush on you before he'd even moved out of Abby's house!"
If it's possible, Eddie's mouth is now open wider.
"Maddie... I can't... have this enormous crush on him. Be... in love with him. He's my roommate, and my best friend and I can't lose him. I won't. I refuse."
"Oh," she scoffs, "so you're just gonna swallow this down forever?"
In an instant, Eddie goes smaller than she's ever seen him before. His voice is small too.
"If I have to. He can never know."
"Uh, it's a little late for that," Chimney interrupts from the dining room.
Maddie and Eddie both snap their heads up towards the voice. But instead of Chimney they see, it's--
"Buck?"
Eddie's hand is still in Maddie's, but his voice is now directed to her little brother, standing wide-eyed behind Chimney, shoulders slouched like he used to do when he'd had a bad day at school. She pats his hand and pushes off the table, waddling over to her husband.
"Buck, why don't you and Eddie sit and have some coffee. There's decaf in the pot."
She watches as Buck moves through the room, brushing her across the shoulders as he passes, but eyes never once moving from Eddie.
As she and Chimney back up a little farther into the dining room, she hears her brother's voice.
"Did you mean it?"
"Did I mean what?"
"Well, all of it. Any of it. Did you mean what you told my sister? Did you mean to kiss me this morning before you left the house?"
"Eddie kissed Buck?!" Chimney whispershouts into Maddie's temple, as she brings a hand to his upper arm to slow him down. They're not eavesdropping, no of course not. Just. Enjoying the view from their dining room on a beautiful morning where they each have a few hours together. Of course.
"What if I do?" Eddie starts again.
"What if you do?" Buck questions back.
"Mean it."
"Then I'm gonna need you to kiss me again. And aim a little lower this time, would you?"
Maddie grabs Chimney by the arm and drags him all the way back to their bedroom, lest they bear witness to a secret that's definitely not theirs to tell.
tag list: @eddiebabygirldiaz @kananjarus @llovely @caroandcats @inthecarwithaboy @leothil @blorbodiaz @eddiegayass @endmewhereistand @gayeddietruther @wanderingcas @fangwhoria (interact to be on tag list! <3)
Raphael’s trying his best not to be nosy, but his eyes land on Eddie’s screen anyway, and he huffs out a quiet laugh. “My wife sends me stuff like that, too. I don’t know where she finds it.”
“If she’s anything like Buck, she’s got the oddity section on AP News bookmarked.”
Eddie’s card makes a soft little beep as he taps it against the machine, and Raphael smiles at him as he tears the receipt off and hands it over. “How long have y’all been together?”
“Chris, did we remember to feed your dad today? I think he's wilting."
“Dad, there are Goldfish in Buck's jacket pocket.”
Eddie groans. “How do you know that?”
"Because…there are always Goldfish crackers in Buck's jacket pocket?" Chris has finally turned away from the window, lit up in glittering blue. “He's been doing it since the first time you almost passed out on us at the zoo.”
or: a little Buckley Diaz family adventure to a rotating aquarium in the desert
because sometimes you're with @minalover in an aquarium and buddie fic happens in situ
(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time
cw: blood (like. a lot)
Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—
He’s—
God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.
It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—
He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.
“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—
Oh.
He’s the one screaming.
Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.
He—
“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”
No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.
It’s—
It’s—
Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.
“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.
“Diaz, stop!”
He can’t. He won’t.
“You have to let them help him.”
They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.
“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.
A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?
Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.
Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.
“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”
He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—
His—
Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.
“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”
He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.
The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.
Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.
“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.
He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.
“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.
She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—
“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.
The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.
The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.
As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.
All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.
“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.
No.
No.
No.
He doesn’t answer.
…
There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.
Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.
“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“
Bobby was there when—
He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.
“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.
“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.
Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”
“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.
“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.
“I love him,” Eddie croaks.
Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.
One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.
“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.
The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.
“No update,” she says quietly.
She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.
“Eddie?” she asks.
He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”
What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.
A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.
“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?
No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.
Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?
“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”
He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.
When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.
“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.
He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.
“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”
Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.
He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.
“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”
Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.
He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.
“For what?” she asks shakily.
“I should’ve— I didn’t—“
“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”
Eddie swallows harshly.
“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”
He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—
He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.
Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.
…
“Family of Evan Buckley?”
Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.
The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.
“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.
Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.
“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”
“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.
The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”
Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.
“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”
To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.
Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”
“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”
Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.
“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.
…
He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.
“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.
Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.
Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.
“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”
Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.
“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”
Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”
Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.
“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.
“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.
Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.
A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath.
Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.
“Eddie,” he breathes.
He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.
“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.
“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”
“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.
“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”
Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”
“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.
Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.
Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”
“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.
Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”
“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.
“Good answer,” Maddie says.
Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”
“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”
“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”
“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”
fandom: 9-1-1
pairing: buck/eddie
chapters: 1/1
words: 20.3k
rating: teen & up
notes: anon my love i’m ngl i misread this to HELL as “outsider POV of buck’s new roommate,” so. that’s what this became, instead. idk how. i really don’t. i hope it satisfies either way ily i’m sorry!
Sophia Diaz moves to Los Angeles. It doesn’t take her too long to figure out that Buck and Eddie’s friendship isn’t as conventional as they seem to think it is.
And, listen. She moved out here to be a game designer, not a matchmaker. But if they don’t get their shit together soon, someone’s getting thrown off the balcony.
--
or; sophia moves to LA, gains buck as a roommate, and immediately regrets all her life choices
i get wet at the thought of you (being a responsible guy)
7k l buddie l Mature l AO3 l 9x01 l coda l Buck thinks Eddie is straight l dry humping l shower sex l idiots in love l light angst l love confessions
It feels like an eternity until Eddie finally emerges from the water, taking in a big gulp of air and slicking his hair backwards. He looks up at Buck, giving him a smirk and a thumbs up.
Finally, Buck can breathe normally again– or not.
The visual presented below him might be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen in his life. No, it is the hottest thing Buck’s ever seen in his life.
OR: Eddie jumps into the water, and he’s not the only one who gets wet.
name: sunny
tumblr: @buddiediner
ao3: buddiefistbumps (thesweetsun)
how long have you been writing buddie?: about 9-10 months
what was your first buddie fic?: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73915771
what's your most recent buddie fic?: https://www.tumblr.com/buddiediner/820542570687070208/eddiebuddie-birthday-fic-and-since-canon-can-say (i keep forgetting to post it on ao3)
what's a lesson that you've learned from writing?: sometimes stepping away from a wip and then going back later on(a day, a week, a month whatever) with fresh eyes is the best thing for the fic and yourself
what advice would you give to someone who's just starting to write fic?: it doesn’t matter if other people like your fics as long as YOU like your fics
what tropes/tags can you never get enough of (#MoreCake)?: amnesia, different first meeting, fics where eddie goes with buck to hershey or buck goes with eddie to texas are so special to me (im actually writing one right now!!)
share five of your favorite buddie fics!:
Market Day by inkinmyheartandonthepage (buddie but buck is a beekeeper with a daughter. this whole series is one of my comfort reads)
featherlight by coldbam (eddie loving birds and buck loving eddie yayy)
Beneath The Same Blue Sky by ItsBuckleyTime (buddie falling in love in a quaint coastal town)
It’s where I belong by Superheronerd_1 (werewolf eddie and buck being horny about it)
If You Could See Yourself Like This by floatyourboat1997 (i sobbed the first time i read this)
or a 9x03 coda , where eddie really hates buck's hypothetical question
featuring : evan ' buck ' buckley / edmundo ' eddie ' diaz ( buddie )
rating : t
word count : 3,458
“ If it were me , would you cut off my leg ? ” The question catches Eddie off - guard. He hates hypotheticals. Buck always asks them , typically out of the blue. He thinks they’re silly and playful. Eddie thinks they’re stupid. ( ‘ It’d be weird to have a worm for a best friend … ’ ) This one is far too real. It doesn’t even have his best friend’s usually thoughtful or curious tone around it. He’s serious and sounds like he already won’t like the answer. This isn’t a game.
“ It wasn’t you , ” Eddie forces himself to say.
Buck shoots him a look , clearly unhappy. Eddie averts his gaze. “ If it was , ” he doubles down.
“ It wasn’t , Buck. ” He shifts uncomfortably. What was even the point ?
“ You just seemed so adamant to cut hers off , ” Buck continues. Something about the words almost sounds bitter. “ I just wonder if you’d be so insistent to cut mine off. ” It strikes a chord. The tables have turned. Suddenly , Eddie is the one who doesn’t want to talk. “ I don’t remember you trying to cut my leg off when I had a literal engine on it. ”
