ficmas: day three
so @hoechlder continues to be patient with the other fic she requested, but i can at least deliver this one! a (traumatic) meet cute which ends up being soft as fuck. i love you so much, n, and hope we can see each other soon. i’m lucky to know you and miss you terribly <3
(please remember that though i work in a hospital, my only interactions with nurses are when i’m on a ward begging for a drug transfer, or listenng to them cry on the phone about the scripts they need so.... i gues what i’m saying is I HAVE NO IDEA WHETHER THIS IS ACCURATE BUT ROLL WITH IT)
no strings attached
eddie/buck, nurse!eddie and firefighter!buck
“Why am I seeing you again?”
Buck looks up and grins. “Hey.”
Folding his (excellent) arms over his (not insignificant) chest, Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Hey?” Though he’s aiming for imposing, it doesn’t work on Buck anymore. The softness is there, because Buck knows where to look; in his eyes, the curve of his smile, the slight roll of his eyes. “You know when you arrive, I’m just getting paged at this point, right?”
Aiming for a sheepish smile because yeah, that’s probably accurate, Buck just shrugs. “What can I say? I keep asking for a date and you keep saying no.”
Eddie snorts, but at least comes to stand by the side of the bed, checking out Buck’s—well, whatever the fuck he does. Buck spends most of the time checking him out, honestly, and he’s shameless about it. “No.”
“What?” Buck affects a look of innocence. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You don’t have to,” Eddie chastises, but he’s smiling. With a sigh, he gives Buck’s chart the once over. “What was it this time?”
“Okay, so don’t get mad—”
“—that is not the best way to start—”
“—but there was this woman who had a man through her windscreen and I cut my arm on—”
“—and I get it, but you understand what being on blood thinners means, don’t you, Buckley? You are—”
“—the glass and it’s not like I was gonna let him hang out of a windscreen, Eddie—”
“—going to be the death of me, I fucking swear—”
“—I’m sorry,” Buck finishes.
Eddie’s expression is a mixture of exasperation, affection, and something that looks like distress.
Something settles low in Buck’s stomach. “I don’t mean to keep ending up here.”
Wiping a hand over his face, Eddie nods. He tries for a smile, but misses the mark. “I know.”
Buck wants to reach for him, but he remembers the last time he was here, Eddie’s voice breaking on the words, “I can’t,” and “Christopher,” and, “I want to, but I just—can’t.”
They’re words that haven’t stopped running through Buck’s mind.
____
The first time they meet, Buck’s just had thirty tonnes of ladder truck crushing his leg.
He’s high for most of the time he’s in the hospital, but he finds out later, after Carla and Maddie have gone home and he’s lonely, that his nurse is fit as fuck. Even better, he later discovers that Eddie is a father. DILF material for his spank bank.
Okay, crass, because Buck’s trying to be a better person, but he’s got eyes, okay? Eddie’s a snack.
“Guess we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other,” are the words Eddie chooses to open with.
Unfortunately for him, he’s right.
Technically, the actual first time they meet, according to Eddie, is after Buck ends up with an impromptu tracheotomy on Valentine’s Day.
“Choking on a fucking breadstick,” Eddie mutters, while Buck’s wondering how he missed Eddie being his nurse. When he says as much, Eddie snorts. “Too busy making doe eyes at your date.”
Buck doesn’t think he’s imagining the snark in the tone, or the curl of Eddie’s lip into a sneer. “She did save my life.”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie mutters.
Thankfully, Buck distracts him by making another quip about the ladder truck, and settles back into the pillows while Eddie gives him an earful about how it’s no joke, and he could have lost his leg, and I swear to god, Buckley, if you come in here within the next three months, I will throw you out of the window.
“Wouldn’t that mean I end up back in here within three months anyway?”
Thankfully, it’s a hospital, so Eddie isn’t actually able to hit him.
______
“You know,” Eddie says conversationally, leaning against the doorjamb. “You’re going to pay my mortgage at this rate.”
Buck snorts, still a little doped up, but he manages a tight smile.
A brief flicker over Eddie’s expression and he steps into the room. “Blood clots, huh?”
The image is burned into Buck’s brain; the faces of his friends and family as he threw up blood. “Collapsed at a surprise party.”
Eddie doesn’t say what Buck can see he wants to; that Buck’s pushing it, that getting back so soon is stupid, and, and, and.
“I just want my job back,” Buck whispers.
“I know,” Eddie says softly. Buck watches his face carefully, and Eddie’s surprisingly open. Buck’s not stupid enough to think he knows all of Eddie—though he takes everything he is into the job, he doubts everyone does that—but he’s not used to seeing Eddie look, well, like he is. “You went through hell, Buck,” he says. “I can’t pretend to understand—”
Except he probably can. Shot in Afghanistan, medal, PTSD, things Buck only understands now because he researched.
“—but if you don’t wanna keep ending up back here, or losing your leg, take your fucking time, okay?”
Buck can’t stop the words, “what else do I have,” from falling between them.
______
So it turns out Buck’s got this;
Eddie’s kid in a fucking tsunami.
“CHRISTOPHER.”
Panic, fucking rage, despair.
“CHRISTOPHER.
Darkness.
“Hey,” someone says. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
“Christopher,” Buck manages, jerks awake to find himself in hospital again, Eddie’s gonna be pissed, but then Buck remembers why Eddie’s gonna be pissed for a whole different reason. The keening sound he lets out is almost a wail. There are hands on his face, a familiar voice in his ear. “Eddie.”
“I’m here,” and oh, oh he is.
“I’m sorry,” Buck sobs.
“No,” Eddie says, and he’s dressed in civvies and not his uniform but he’s in the makeshift hospital and— “Chris is safe, Buck.”
“You found him?”
Relief, the pressure of relief.
“Yeah,” Eddie promises. “Yeah, we did.”
______
Then;
“What are you doing here?” Eddie’s at the nurses’ station, valiantly ignoring the whispering nurses behind him.
Buck grins. “I don’t actually need help this time.”
“Idiot,” Eddie mutters, and steers Buck away from the desk. “I’m working.”
It’s something Eddie takes seriously, but Buck can’t stop thoughts running through his head. Since the tsunami, since Eddie let Buck look after Chris again and since, well, since Buck’s been back at work, it’s all he can think about; Eddie, wanting him.
“Do you maybe,” Buck says, licks at his bottom lip, “wanna go for a drink sometime?”
_________
Now this;
“If you were there to watch over me,” Buck hedges. He knows he shouldn’t, it’s not fair, when they both want it but Eddie won’t let himself take. He can’t stop himself.
Eddie watches him carefully. “Buck—”
“I know,” Buck says, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a soft touch against his face, and Buck’s eyes snap open. Eddie’s fingers are on his cheek, apprehension warring with want on Eddie’s face. “Don’t be.”
“Eddie,” Buck pleads, “don’t do this if—”
“The first time they wheeled you in here,” Eddie says, “I knew you’d change everything.”
“Sorry,” Buck says, because that’s apparently what he keeps having to say to everyone.
“No,” Eddie presses. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I have.”
Hope blossoms in Buck’s chest.
Carefully, Eddie pulls away, but he’s smiling, soft and wonderful. “Maybe, if you can stay out of the hospital for a day, we could get a drink.”
Grinning, Buck shrugs one arm. “Eh, I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll say yes,” Eddie says, crossing the room and rapping his knuckles against the door frame. “I have it on good authority you think I’m a DILF.”
Fucking Hen.
Eddie’s laugh echoes down the hall and Buck throws an arm over his eyes, doesn’t stop smiling even when his face starts to hurt.
You are easily one of my top two JJK writers on this site, your creativity and writing ability is out of this world! It's so high-quality and well done!
i....i am not worthy of your praise T^T but thank you very much for thinking my writing level is high-quality! been feeling a little insecure recently, cause none of my favourite works are really receiving love. but your message made me smile a lot and made me feel warm and giddy. so thank you so much, love!
“But I’ll tell you a terrible secret- are you listening to me? There isn’t anyone out there who isnt Mr Eaten. That includes your Provost of Summerset, buddy. And all his goddamn Summerset students by the dozens. There isnt anyone anywhere that isn’t the Bazaar’s Mr Eaten. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know the goddamn secret yet? And don’t you know- listen to me, now- don’t you know who Mr Eaten really is? ...Ah, buddy, Ah buddy. It’s Christ himself. Christ himself buddy”
