You can't compare Rusame to Heated Rivalry because their Rivalry was notoriously not Heated. It was rather cold actually. And more like a war than a rivalry. You may even call it a cold war
sometimes, Buck wakes up in the middle of the night.
he's drenched in cold sweat and has to choke out a gasp around a mouth full of bile, the stench of dirt in his nose and the taste of mud and sweat heavy on his tongue.
on nights when he's truly alone - when Chris is with Carla, or Denny, anywhere Buck knows he'll be safe - he wakes up screaming. it's nothing intelligible, just a guttural sound (it might have been Eddie's name once upon a time) that rips through his throat as tears soak his sheets but whatever it is, it's the closest thing Buck will ever get to 'I love you'.
when he thinks about that he wants to scream again.
sometimes, staying awake is as bad as being asleep.
he starts counting his fingers at the station, a trick he picked up from some bad TV show. he says it's just a way to focus, or ground himself, and that's not entirely a lie, but really he just wants to check to see if he's awake or if this is all just some terrible, terrible fucking dream.
he used to hope for one or the other. now he's not sure which would be worse.
he tries to distract himself, but he only ever gets halfway. he could be a punchline away from the end of a story that has Hen and Chim doubled over, and he'll instinctively turn his head to see if Eddie's laughing at him or rolling his eyes or doing that thing where he tries to hide his smile behind his hand.
by the time he realizes what he's doing, he's usually forgotten the end of his story anyway.
sometimes he wants to quit.
these are the darkest times of all. through everything that LA had thrown at him, come hell or high water (come lawsuit or tsunami, Eddie jokes used to joke), the 118 was the one constant in his life, but now?
now Buck takes sick days and personal days and bereavement days and people encourage it. they tell him to take time, all the time he needs, and no one comes barging into his apartment to pull him out of bed.
instead, people ask how he's doing and how Chris is doing and if he's talking to anyone and Buck can't find the words to say his heart has been fucking carved out of his chest and 'good days' are when he feels numb and how Chris deserves his dad, his real dad, not the human husk Buck has turned into.
he can't find a way to say how fucking badly he wishes that he was the one buried sixty feet under with a drill and a mudslide instead of the love of his life (realized far too late)
so instead Buck lies.
he lies and Eddie would be so fucking mad at him -
but that doesn't matter anymore because Eddie is gone
talk to me about king christopher, intentionally or not, helping his two dads figure out they’re in love with each other 🤗 xoxo
cailee, you beautiful wonderful tropical fish, did you know you had a direct line to my soul with asks like this?
There was a very, very good reason that whenever anyone asked Edmundo Diaz about his son, the first word that he used to describe Chris was ‘smart’.
Chris was a caring boy, a kind boy, a kid who had known loss and grief in his life, more than any child should. He had survived earthquakes, tsunamis, surgeries, death, and that had shaped him into a kid that was incredibly sweet, empathetic, but most of all, smart.
Eddie knew it, of course; he was incredibly proud of his son, of the work he did in school, of the friends he made, of the person that he was growing into. Chris was bright, and he was bubbly, and he was whip quick in a way that Eddie sincerely wished he could be an adult, let alone as a kid—but that wit usually came as a double edged sword.
Because as proud as Eddie was of his son, Chris had a knack of thinking circles around everyone, himself included.
Eddie knew when he was being played for extra video game time, and knew damn well when Chris batted his eyes for a sick day from school, but Eddie figured that was about as far as things went. As far as Eddie was concerned, as long as his grades stayed up and he stayed happy with his friends, a little special treatment wouldn’t hurt.
So it only made sense that when Chris decided to wield his powers for good where his father was concerned, Eddie had no idea what was coming.
“Dad, can we go over to Buck’s house to play some video games tonight?”
Eddie smiled, watching Chris tilt his cell phone to get through whatever game he was playing in the rear view mirror as they made the trek home from Abuela’s. He had to admit, while the best possible thing that had come out of him joining the 118 was the easy friendship that he found with Buck, the easy friendship that Chris and Buck seemed to have made was a close second.
“I dunno buddy, Buck might already have dinner plans. Besides, you know it’s rude for us to invite ourselves over.” Eddie said, catching Chris’ eye in at a stoplight. He was thankful for their friendship, of course, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel a little guilty about monopolizing all of Buck’s time when they were both off the clock.
The look Chris gave him was thoroughly unimpressed as he held up Eddie’s phone, speaking like it was actually paining him to have to explain himself. “Dad, Buck was the one who asked. He says we should bring over pizza!”
...okay, Eddie might have felt bad about being attached to Buck at the hip, but that didn’t mean he was about to deny himself the pleasure when Buck was the one to initiate some time together. And Eddie definitely wasn’t going to say no when he knew that Chris was looking forward to spending time with Buck just as much as Eddie was.
Even if Eddie knew he enjoyed Buck’s company for entirely different reasons.
“Hey, thanks for having us over.” Eddie said softly, once pizza had been devoured, and Buck had his ass thoroughly kicked (With Chris, Buck definitely threw his matches—but with Eddie, well, there was no denying the cry of defeat whenever Eddie skimmed past him into first). “Chris loves spending time with you, you make his night whenever he gets to see you.”
Buck grinned back at him, that easy smile that made Eddie’s heart do things he didn’t care to identify as he shrugged his shoulders. “You know I love spending some time with my Diaz boys. This was definitely one of your better ideas.” he said easily, clearing the table, sliding the pizza box into the fridge.
Eddie opened his mouth to respond, pausing before any words could come out, a curious look crossing his face. He reached around Buck and grabbed two beers, handing one to Buck after he cracked them open. “You mean, thanks for the pizza. This was your idea, after all.”
It was Buck’s turn to look confused, swallowing a mouthful of beer as he pulled his phone out. “No, Eddie, pretty sure you sending me a message that said ‘game night, we’ll bring pizza’ was pretty clear.”
Eddie blinked as he looked at Buck’s phone—sure enough, the message was there plain as day, and he shot a curious look over to Chris, who was conked out on the couch. Buck followed his gaze, chuckling when he put two and two together, shaking his head. “Hey, go easy on him... after all, it’s not like I had any other plans.”
“Buck...”
“No, I’m serious.” Buck said, his face holding that soft, sweet grin. “After all, it’s... well, I like spending time with you. With, um, both of you I mean.” he murmured over the mouth of his beer bottle, pink raising in his cheeks as Eddie took a swig of his own. He didn’t trust himself to respond and instead linked his ankle with Buck’s beneath the table, trusting the gesture would say enough—and judging by the grin Buck shot him, the message was received loud and clear.
Unseen to either of them, Chris had a small smile on his face, peeking through his lashes as he watched the two from his space on the couch.
--
In retrospect, Buck probably should have asked what all was entailed in Career Day when Chris asked he and Eddie to show up to his school at 9am.
All he had expected was that he and Eddie would get to show the kids some of their tools, some of their gear, and then answer some questions. What he got was a room full of single moms (and dads) that were looking at Eddie like he was good enough to eat.
Which, let’s be real, Eddie was. Especially when he was partially suited up, PPE from the waist down, a 118 tee shirt, and the thick red suspenders to hold everything together. Saying he looked delicious was selling it short, but that didn’t mean Buck liked a room full of strangers being so blatant about it.
It was all he could do to stand back and not cause a scene as yet another mom walked up to Eddie and put her hand on his bicep, laughing at a joke far too loudly, for far too long. The only saving grace was the look that Eddie shot him while she had her head tossed back, rolling his eyes so hard that Buck thought he was going to hurt himself.
As Chris took his turn and made it up to the front of the class, Buck couldn’t deny feeling a little bit self conscious as he stood beside Eddie.
A room full of parents, with their kids, and then Buck.
He wasn’t jealous, okay?
And even if he was—
“This is my Dad, and this is my Buck! They’re firefighters!”
—Chris knocked that feeling out of him, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as Chris started his presentation. A quick look at Eddie confirmed that he wasn’t the only one who caught the title, and he dipped his head with a little smile, not bothering to hide how pleased he was.
Pleased because he got to be Chris’ Buck. Not pleased because of the disappointed looks that he could see flicker across half of the single parents faces. Nope, that had nothing to do with it, and if it did, it was no secret that Chris was the real source of his joy.
“...they use their trucks and ladders to help keep us safe...”
Chris being an awesome kid was no surprise—Eddie was a great dad, okay?—but Buck still felt lucky that he got to see such a bright kid in his element like this, and even luckier that he got to help out whenever he could. He let his mind wander as Chris continued to speak, treading into dangerous territory. Chris had called him his Buck, so easily, like it was obvious, and for a moment Buck let himself wonder what it would sound like for Eddie to say the same.
“...and they’re super strong, too!”
Chris turned around, looking directly at Eddie, and Buck had to swallow a snort of a laugh as every eye in the room followed him. Eddie, to his credit, tried to save face, nodding his head. “Uh, we... workout every day?” he said, and Chris giggled as he looked over to Buck.
“Dad, you have to show them! Lift Buck up!”
Now it was Buck’s turn to feel every eye swivel over to him, and he was sure his face was bright red in record time. Was this part of the presentation? Did Chris mention this? Buck couldn’t be sure, but honestly, it didn’t exactly sound like something he would have agreed to. He caught Eddie’s eye and shrugged helplessly—after all, Eddie would be the one doing the heavy lifting, it was kind of out of his hands.
After a shared, barely-there nod, Eddie clapped his hands together, turning back to the class. “So, uh, this is called a fireman’s lift. It’s what we do when we have to carry someone out of a burning building, if they can’t walk out on their own. What we do is—“
“Have you ever had to do it before?” A blonde boy asked from the second row, his hand straight up in the air, eyes wide. His father, a corporate manager, didn’t look entirely pleased.
Eddie was all smiles, though, as he nodded and looked over to Buck. “We both have. Our job is to keep people safe, and this is the easiest way to do it.”
The clear hero worship may have helped Eddie become a little more comfortable, but for Buck, the situation didn’t matter—acting as a dead weight was always going to be a little weird. He sighed and opened his arms as Eddie stepped forward, and he was in the air before he could blink. He twisted his body as Eddie lifted so he could still face the class, focusing on Chris’ smile as his world went sideways.
If Buck thought it was awkward before, the dead silence that met him when Eddie spun around with Buck on his shoulders was completely deafening. It was all Buck could do to focus on keeping himself right side up, and not focus on the firm line of Eddie’s shoulders against his side, his strong hands on Buck’s thigh and wrapped around his arm—and thankfully Buck didn’t have long to follow that train of thought before there were twenty kids cheering for them, clapping wildly.
Okay, note to self; if you want to impress a room full of nine year olds, you just had to lift something heavy up.
Buck found himself smiling again, cheeks feeling permanently pink as Eddie brought him back down to the ground, turning to answer a few questions as they were swarmed with tiny bodies. He loved kids, he always had, and he was definitely in his element—but he couldn’t get the thought of Eddie’s hand on his thigh out of his mind.
He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when the weight of Eddie’s arm looped around his waist, effectively anchoring him and sending him into another galaxy as Chris’ teacher took a picture of the three of them together.
As Buck leaned into Eddie’s touch, he couldn’t help but look down to Chris, who very much looked like the cat that got the canary—and Buck was content to assume that it was because he obviously had the coolest Career Day presentation.
After all, getting your Dad to deadlift your Buck certainly blew any investment bankers or realty agents out of the water.
--
“You know, if you actually want to watch a movie, you have to press play on the remote.”
“Shove it, Eds.”
His words were snippy, but Buck was all smiles as Eddie joined him in the loft, plate in hand, passing Buck a burger and a huge plate of chips as he crashed on the couch beside him. Buck had been listening to the menu theme of some action DVD that Chim had picked out for the better part of a half hour as he scrolled through his phone, his attention quickly pulled to the food. “What’s wrong, Bobby kick you off the grill again? Made you realize there was more to life than being a meathead?” Buck said with a teasing smile, and Eddie found himself laughing in spite of himself.
“Well, actually, Carla sent me a few pictures of Chris on his class trip to the zoo today, and I was going to show you, but...”
“Hey, no, what? I think it’s awesome that you’re a middle aged grill dad, you look great with that spatula, now show me the pictures!” Buck said, immediately back tracking, his pride an easy thing to swallow whenever Chris being adorable was involved.
Eddie snorted as he handed over his phone, letting Buck swipe through the photos, and if he happened to be looking at Buck more than he was looking at the photos, well that was his own business. Buck, mercifully, was plenty distracted—the sight of Chris and a peacock would do that to anyone, Eddie had already set it as his wallpaper.
“Eddie, your kid is so fucking cute.” Buck said as he looked back up at Eddie, smiling as he tapped at Eddie’s screen, undoubtedly forwarding a few of the images to his own phone. Buck’s phone was only second to Eddie’s when it came to cute pictures of Chris, and if Eddie had more than three brain cells bouncing around in his skull, he probably would have looked a little more deeply into that.
Eddie pulled his phone back as another message came through, eyes flickering over the text message as Buck took a huge bite of the burger Eddie brought him.
“Hey Buck?”
“Mmmphhgghh?”
“Say cheese.”
“Ehh, muhnuie!”
The picture was pretty disgusting, honestly—Buck had a mouth fit to bursting of burger, sauce and ketchup smeared over his cheek, eyes wide as he turned to the camera. “What? Chris wanted to see what we were doing today.” Eddie said innocently, saving the picture to his camera roll before sending it to Carla’s phone.
“Dad I need selfies of you and Buck!”
The message from Carla came through easy enough, though it was clear that Chris had taken over, and Eddie was still laughing at Buck when he read the message aloud. Buck’s scandalized look didn’t go away as he finally swallowed, and Eddie knew he was in trouble the moment Buck reached for his phone, ready for retaliation.
He couldn’t complain when he suddenly had an arm full of Buck, laughing easily as Buck fired up his selfie camera, but his laughter quickly turned into a sound of absolute horror as he felt ketchup against his cheek when Buck smushed their faces together, camera shutter firing rapidly.
“You are disgusting!” Eddie finally got out between laughs, shoving Buck aside, who looked all too pleased with himself as he furiously tapped at Eddie’s phone, undoubtedly sending the pictures to Carla (and probably Maddie, and Abuela, and maybe his own phone too).
He had to admit, when he finally got his phone back and looked over the pictures, he was a little uncomfortable—not because of the content, but because he had never known he was so fucking obvious when he was looking at Buck. He hadn’t understood the term heart eyes until now, and it kicked his anxiety up just a little bit—he needed to work on his subtlety.
Then again, the next time he caught a glimpse of Buck’s phone, he was stunned to see that the picture of the two of them had made Buck’s wallpaper...
...maybe Chris was on to something with the whole selfies idea.
--
“Hey Buck?”
“What’s up, bud?”
They had just finished what Buck would not hesitate to call one of the best nights of his life—Eddie and Chris had shown up with a truck packed full of food, blankets, chairs, and a huge, colorful umbrella. Buck had worried that Chris would be less than thrilled to be near the ocean after the tsunami, but his fears were completely misplaced—Chris took to the beach like a crab, and Buck’s heart felt lighter than it ever had every time he heard Chris’ laughter, getting to the point where he actually deleted a few apps from his phone to take some more photos.
The icing on the cake, though, was Chris insisting that Buck could read him his bedtime story that night. Eddie looked completely betrayed, even as he insisted it was fine.
It was fucking hilarious.
“You love me, right?”
Buck felt his brows raise into his hairline, closing the book as he nudged Chris’ shoulders. “Course I love you, buddy. You’re my favorite little man.” He said softly, the initial spike of concern easing in his heart when he watched Chris break out into a grin. He should have known it was a trap, but Chris was so cute, so unassuming, so—
“And you love Daddy too, right?”
—so damn sneaky.
Buck swallowed once he regained his bearings, nodding his head, glad for the dim light of Chris’ room to hide his blush. “Course I do kiddo. You and your dad are both very important to me.”
Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, if the scrunch of Chris’ face was anything to go by.
“But you love him too, right? You love me and Daddy?”
Putting the long forgotten book down on the night table beside Chris’ bed, Buck pulled his arm around the kid easily, pressing a kiss to his mess of curly hair. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the only thing that would come out was the truth. “Yeah, I love you and I love your dad too.” he murmured. It was the first time he had ever said that aloud before—and even as he felt his heart race, he felt lighter, to be able to get that off his chest, a secret that had been heavy on his heart for a long time.
“You should tell him that.”
Buck almost swallowed his tongue. Like he could sense his discomfort, Chris looked up, blinking owlishly without his glasses, a small smile on his lips. “It makes me happy when you tell me you love me. I bet it would make Daddy happy too.” he said with a little shrug, and Buck actually surprised himself with a little laugh.
“How did you get so smart, kid?”
Another kiss goodnight and Buck had the door shut behind him, walking on the balls of his feet as he returned to the kitchen, where Eddie was still scrubbing at a dish—and if that wasn’t enough of a red flag, the red tint to his cheeks and the way he shyly looked up at Buck told him all he needed to know. Shy was just not a typical look for Eddie.
“Edmundo Diaz, were you eavesdropping on your sons bedtime story?” Buck asked, his voice light and teasing, even as his face heated up. If Eddie had been listening in, there was no way to tell just how much he had heard, but while the thought usually pushed Buck into a spiral of despair, all he felt now was a strange sense of warmth.
Eddie looked up at him cautiously, chewing his lip. “What? It’s not my fault, I had to make sure the story you picked was up to his standards, and that you... did all the voices, and—“
“I meant it.”
Wow, fuck, Buck just blurted that out. He felt his jaw clamp shut as Eddie’s gaze snapped to him, Eddie’s eyes as wide as his own.
“Buck...”
“I’m serious, Eddie. I meant it, I... I mean it.” Buck’s feet are moving of his own accord, closing the distance between them until Buck could reach out and touch Eddie if he wanted. Well, if he could get his arms to respond. “You and Chris, you’re the most important people in the world to me, and... and I do, I love you. And I think, I think you love me too.”
Eddie couldn’t think, couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything other than move forward and pull Buck into his space completely. Their first kiss was a little rough—bumped noses, off center, but even then Eddie could feel fireworks—and when they reconnected, when Buck’s lips met his properly, it was all Eddie could do to remain upright.
He kept his hands around Buck when they pulled back to breathe, their foreheads resting against one another, and Eddie’s cheeks were literally hurting he was smiling so hard. Buck’s little laugh was all Eddie could hear, all he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life—so he couldn’t be blamed for failing to hear a pair of little feet leaving the kitchen, back through the hallway, or the nearly silent closing of Chris’ bedroom door.
Chris didn’t need to stick around to see the end result—adults were so gross—but he was pleased enough to see that his hard work and careful planning had paid off, knowing that his dad and his Buck would be happier than ever now that they were finally smooching (even if it had taken forever!).
His dads were a little slow on the uptake sometimes, sure, but that was okay.
After all, Chris would be there to give them a little push whenever they needed.
for the wonderful @eddiesdiaz on this, the most glorious day of her birth! she asked me for a road trip fic and I aim to please. bby plz enjoy 13k of Buddie traveling across the country.
buddie, 13k, hurt/comfort, light angst, first kiss, cuddling, the whole nine yards.
“Ev.”
Buck felt his heart sink further when Maddie finally spoke—he was only Evan when he was in trouble, and he was only Ev when something terrible had happened.
prompt idea: eddie learning buck's name is actually evan so he stops calling him buck and only calls him evan and it gets buck all flustered :)
OOOH NONNIE! I asked a very similar thing from the wonderful @buckleydiazs and they BLEW IT OUT OF THE PARK NOTHING CAN COMPARE so instead, I will give you, Eddie saying Evan but angst instead of cute. xoxo
“Eddie?”
"Hang on, Buck.”
Buck felt good. Damn, he hadn’t felt this good in ages. When was the last time that he woke up without an ache in his leg, or the burn of water going down his throat? He honestly couldn’t remember.
Best of all, when he looked up... there was Eddie, arms around him, and Buck was so happy he could burst. Eddie always made him so happy. Eddie was, like, the best person in the entire world... even when he looked sad.
“S’wrong, Eddie?”
“Just hang on, okay? Just stay awake.”
Stay awake? He could do that. He felt great. Well rested. Happy. Comfortable. Which, he had to admit, wasn’t what he expected after their last call. Structural collapse in one of the METRO tunnels during regular maintenance. The 118 and four other houses had been called to try and help dig out some of the construction workers. At some point in time, he and Eddie had been separated from Hen and Him after they managed to pull another engineer from the subterranean rubble, but... that was the last thing Buck remembered.
Which probably wasn’t a good sign.
When had he gone to sleep?
Buck thought his heart would be racing if he had an ounce of adrenaline left in him, but at it was, his body seemed to have been tapped out. He looked back up to Eddie, his vision a little clearer, clear enough to make out the lines of dust and grime on Eddie’s face, the way his light was dancing in the dark tunnel, the... were those tear tracks on his face?
He frowned, ready to ask what was going on, but before he could, he felt a tugging around his shoulder. Eddie wasn’t holding him, he was dragging him, his hand clamped around what looked like a tear in his suit, right under his right shoulder.
It didn’t take a genius to guess that the tear probably went through his body, too.
“Eddie?”
Looking back to where they had come from, Buck frowned, seeing scuff marks, debris, and what looked like motor oil, a slick dark trail leading back to them, and it also didn’t take a genius to realize that a bloody trail was also really, really not a good sign.
At the very least, that answered the question as to why Eddie didn’t have him in a proper fire carry. Pressure on the wound trumped everything else.
“Eddie.”
He repeated himself, a little louder this time, turning his head to look up at Eddie, but the other was resolutely not looking at him, just looking over his shoulder as he dragged Buck backwards. He didn’t know where they were going—and he doubted that Eddie did, either—and that just wouldn’t do. He wasn’t about to die here, lost in the tunnels of LA, without at least getting Eddie to look at him.
“Edmundo.”
His voice was probably a little rough around the edges, but he knew that wasn’t the reason that Eddie looked at him like he had just spoken ill of the dead. Their pace never wavered, and for that Buck was thankful, but it now felt like he had Eddie’s undivided attention.
Well, not that he didn’t have it before. But Buck was always an “eyes on me” kind of guy.
“It’s going to be okay, Edmundo.” Buck tried for a smile, and at first, he thought he had succeeded in his goal, but the color all but drained from Eddie’s face—the patches of skin he could see underneath dirt and grime, anyway—as Eddie upped his pace.
“Don’t talk like that, Buck.”
Buck had to snort—at least, he tried to snort, but it probably came out more of a wheeze-laugh. “Talk like what, like I’m dying?”
The wave of grief that he saw roll over Eddie’s face made him almost regret saying that, but Buck knew it was true. If he could come to that conclusion after some probably serious physical trauma (which he was so glad he didn’t remember) and what he assumed was a significant amount of blood loss, he was sure Eddie already had as well--and if he hadn’t, he needed to.
“You have to tell Maddie I love her.”
“Buck, don’t you fucking dare—”
“Everyone in the house, too.”
“Buck, please!” Eddie’s shift from anger to pleading in about two seconds was a bit of a shock, almost as bad as the wrecked expression on his face. “Come on, Buck, you can’t—you don’t talk like that, you can’t! I’m not—I can’t let—Evan, fucking stop!”
Buck felt his face brighten as Eddie spoke, beaming up at him, tilting his heads he felt his eyes droop a little bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my name before. I... I like it.”
Eddie laughed, but the sound was wet, and it took Buck zero seconds to decide he liked Eddie’s regular laugh better.
“Evan, God, just stay awake and stop talking like that and I’ll call you whatever you want.”
Buck smiled again, feeling his gut twist, shaking his head. He would have loved to stop, but there was no way in hell he was going to risk leaving this fucking world without saying his piece.
“Edmundo, you gotta tell them, okay? You gotta tell them—and you gotta tell Chris, too.”
“Evan...”
“I’m serious.” he said, his smile falling off his face, letting his free arm come up to squeeze one of Eddie’s arms, still diligently pulling him to safety. “You gotta tell him that I love him, and I’m sorry, okay? He’s such a good kid. and he’s gonna need you to help him through this, okay? You have to be there for him.”
“Evan. Please, you gotta stop that, you can’t. You have to stay with us, I can’t—Evan, I can’t do this without you.” Something wet hit Buck’s face as he looked up, and—oh. Eddie was crying. Eddie was crying, over him.
Wasn’t that a bitch.
Buck felt his throat start to tighten up as the tunnel got lighter around him, and he was man enough to admit that he was scared (even if he wasn’t about to announce that to Eddie, who was probably going through enough on his own right now).
“I want to tell you—”
“Evan, please, please, don’t.”
“—I love you, Edmundo.”
“No!”
Buck looked up in surprise as Eddie snapped at him, watching new tear tracks forming in the dust on his face. “No, you don't get to tell me that right now. You don’t get to say that when you think you’re going to... No!”
Buck could feel his throat start to tighten up again. “Eddie—”
“Tell me later, Evan.” Eddie snapped, and it was all Buck could do to nod his head as he sniffed.
The light was getting brighter around him.
Buck closed his eyes.
He was scared.
--
The next time Buck woke up, he most certainly did not feel good, and that in itself was probably a great sign if it weren’t so damn inconvenient. He opened his eyes slowly, his body feeling like it was cast in cement, weighed down by the impossibly thin hospital blanket that was wrapped around his body.
He didn’t have to look far to see Eddie sitting beside him, phone up to his ear, a small smile on his face. Buck could hear Christopher’s voice on the other end of the phone—talking about his day at school, probably—but what really caught his attention was the fact that Eddie’s other hand was wrapped around his own.
Eddie was holding his hand in a hospital bed, and honestly, he didn’t know if it got better than that.
He let himself watch for a few more moments, his breathing still even and slow, taking in the small smile that Eddie gave to his phone as he hung up.
Buck couldn’t believe he had almost missed this. He couldn’t believe that he had almost left without saying anything, and even if he was a little bit pissed off that Eddie didn’t let him say what he wanted to say at the time... well, he could always make up for it now.
And he could make up for it now.
Fuck.
“Edmundo?”
Honestly, now that they were on a first name basis, Buck wasn’t sure he was ever going to go back. Especially after he watched Eddie almost drop his phone in shock, attention suddenly laser focused on him. The hand around his own squeezed, almost too-tight, but Buck just smiled wider, a happy sigh leaving his lips.
“I love you.”
Eddie froze as Buck felt his smile grow, and then he was beaming, relief etched into every line of his face, and fuck, they were probably both about to start crying again.
His free hand came up to cup Buck’s cheek and Buck found himself leaning into the touch, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder as he moved his neck.
“I love you too, Evan.”
Buck may have still felt like he got hit by a truck, but he was back on cloud nine, feeling the warmth from Eddie’s hand spread through his body, better than anything that he could have imagined.
“And if you ever pull that shit again, I swear to god—”
Hi ❤️ if you’re still talking prompts could you write Buck temporarily going blind and Eddie helping him cope till he gets better? Only if you want, no pressure and thx 😘
COMBINED WITH BUDDIEWEEK2020 PROMPT
July 8th - Day 3: “We can do this.” + hurt
also I want you to know it was very difficult for me not to turn it into a permanently blind emotional rollercoaster that you definitely did not ask for.
(xoxo to @buckleydiazs for giving it a once over before posting!)
Every time Eddie closes his eyes, he relives his mistake.
He can see Buck taking the stairs two at a time, clearing the last floor of the burning apartment building. He can see the ladder at the end of the hallway, the light at the end of a burning tunnel. He can see part of the ceiling give way as he turns, reaching for Buck, too slow, too fucking slow, and Buck—
—is gone, pushed through the floor by the caving-in ceiling, what Eddie was sure was a scream drowned out by the roar of the flames.
They find him, of course they do, half buried beneath rubble three floors down with a cracked helmet, broken mask, and blood leaking sluggishly around the temples. Buck is out cold—which is probably for the best, because when Eddie peels his helmet off as Chim speeds through the Los Angeles streets to the nearest trauma hospital all he can see is blue, and black, and red, splashed over the bridge of Buck’s nose, his lids, from ear to ear.
Retinal detachment.
Orbital fracture.
Extreme ocular trauma.
“It’s too soon to tell. The surgery went well, but the healing is where... well, where the healing happens. The gauze needs to be changed daily, and the tape on your lids needs to be removed in two weeks time—by that time, the nerves in your...”
Eddie started to zone out while the doctor was talking, his hand nearly numb from how hard Buck was squeezing it, not that he was going to complain. He had only left the hospital twice in the 60 hours Buck had been admitted—once during Buck’s surgery to drive home, take a well needed shower and a change of clothes, and once to pick up some coffee because he felt about as dead on his feet as Buck looked, and that was saying a lot.
Buck, who had thrashed around and nearly punched Eddie in the face when he came to after the surgery, because he couldn’t fucking see. Buck, who had stitches in his fucking eyeball and two metal rods in the bone around his nose to keep the cartilage from sinking back and puncturing his brain. Buck, who had his eyelids taped shut—which was barbaric in a way Eddie couldn’t properly describe.
“Do I look like a mummy?” Buck had asked after he woke up, near monotonous, and Eddie had to stop himself from near hysterical laughter—he just had two circles of gauze packed toward his eye sockets, another layer of tape beneath the fluff to keep his lids shut.
“Now, Mr. Buckley, who will you be staying with?”
And god, after less than three days, Buck was being discharged.
Eddie blinked, bringing himself back to the present as he heard the question, giving a small gesture with his hand—and remembering Buck couldn’t see it. Off to a great start. “Me. I’ll be taking him back to our home, the only hard part will be convincing my kid that it’s not a two week sleepover vacation.”
If Eddie didn’t already know how low Buck was feeling, the fact that he didn’t even try to argue said more than enough.
--
Eddie had immediately cashed in three weeks of his paid time off—he had racked plenty up with all the overtime he had worked his first few months on the team, before Carla, the patron saint of financial aid had swooped into his life. He wasn’t about to leave Buck alone, not for a minute if he could help it, but Eddie knew better than anyone that sometimes, things didn’t happen as planned.
The first few days of Buck staying with them had gone... alright. Tensions were sky high, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, but thankfully Chris was in the house more often than not on the weekend, and it was impossible to be tense or angry when Chris was in the room, even if you couldn’t see him.
At night, though, everything changed. Tension turned to despair, and Eddie had never been more thankful that the guest room was next to his own, on the opposite side of the hall from Chris’ room—he knew the nightmares would be coming hard and fast, and he knew Buck would have never forgiven himself if he scared Christopher with them.
The past two nights, all Buck had needed to anchor himself was a firm touch, a loud enough noise, something to anchor him to the situation, but Eddie could tell that wasn’t going to be enough when he opened Buck’s door a few nights into his stay.
Partially because of his own guilt, maybe, but mostly because Buck sounded like he was fighting for his life.
“Buck, come on, wake up—you’re safe, you’re home with me and Chris, you’re okay, fuck, Buck—“
He finally pulled Buck upright, hands on his shoulders, and Buck gasped, head snapping side to side. “Eddie, what’s going on, where—where the fuck am I, Eddie, what—I can’t see, Eds, I can’t fucking see, I—“
It was only years of Army training that had Eddie’s reflexes moving fast enough to grab Buck’s hands as he moved to claw at his eyes, to rip the gauze and tape off of his lids.
“Listen to me, you’re safe. You’re okay. Come on, Buck. We can do this. I got you.” Keeping his voice as low as possible, Eddie pulled Buck’s wrists toward his own chest, and to his complete dismay, he could feel the moment that Buck’s mind caught up with him. He fell forward, limply pushing his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder, body wracking with sobs as Eddie let go of his wrists and just held his friend, his Buck, who had become completely undone in his arms.
He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, too afraid that the wrong thing would come spilling out, so he just held onto Buck and let him cry, only loosening his grip when he felt Buck’s breath start to even out again, only interrupted by the occasional hiccuping sob or hitch of emotional aftermath. He didn’t realize that Buck had passed out again until it was too late; it was hard to tell in the first place, not being able to see if Buck’s eyes were open or shut, but by the time he realized Buck had literally cried himself asleep he couldn’t even imagine waking him back up just so Eddie could leave.
Also… he didn’t really want to leave.
Slowly pulling the sheet up around Buck’s shoulders, Eddie wiggled himself back down against the headboard, his own eyes closing. He had certainly had worse sleeps—anywhere overseas came to mind—but that was an afterthought. If this is what it took to help Buck feel safe, so be it.
It was the best night of sleep he had gotten in weeks.
--
The next night, after he had read to Chris and wished Buck a good night, Eddie only needed to pick up on the smallest of hesitations from Buck before he took Buck’s hand and led him into his own bedroom. Buck’s shoulders sagged in relief as Eddie helped steer him into his bed, laying close enough that their legs were touching, but far enough that they still had plenty of their own space, the small contact hopefully enough to ground Buck into the present.
And if Eddie secretly loved the mornings where he would be lucky enough to wake up with Buck any degree closer, well, that was his own business.
--
Staying together in the same bed didn’t stop Buck’s nightmares, of course, not that Eddie expected it to. What it did was give them both the ability to stop them before it got too bad—with the solid resistance of another body beside you, it was harder to let a dream spiral down too far. He wish he didn’t know this from experience, but... well, he was far from perfect, and that was becoming more and more obvious every day.
The hardest part of it all was that Buck was a morning person, which, who would even have thought that were a thing? Eddie took advantage of sleeping in whenever possible—he had been known to drop Christopher off at school on his days off and get another hour or so of shut eye—but by the time his first alarm went off, Buck had almost always untangled himself from Eddie’s form and retreated to his own side of the bed, and that wouldn’t do.
(When had Eddie started to think of it as Buck’s side of the bed? He really didn’t want to look into that too deeply.)
Eddie started to push himself—waking up ten, fifteen minutes before his alarm, just to enjoy Buck’s closeness, his warmth.
He was getting used to it too quickly, forgetting that this wasn’t actually his, even as he dreamed of spending a sleepy Saturday in bed with Buck, looping an arm around his waist.
“Eddie?”
Fuck. He was awake, and apparently, so was Buck.
His mind immediately kicked into overdrive, not sure if he should pretend that he was still asleep or snap his hand back and apologize, but thankfully, Buck made up his mind before Eddie could. He felt Buck’s arm move atop of his own—not pushing off, just resting alongside, the limb a line of heat along Eddie’s arms as their fingertips brushed. “…this is okay with you?” Buck asked, and Eddie let out a rush of air, nodding, nose tickling the back of Buck’s head. “Yeah Buck, it’s, um. I like it. And if you like it, that’s even better. It’s great! I mean, it’s the least I could do, I guess.” God, Eddie, shut the fuck up.
“… the least you could do.”
Eddie swallowed as he heard the frown in Buck’s voice, knowing instinctively that he was in trouble as Buck moved himself, rolling to face Eddie—probably more out of force of habit than anything, considering they couldn’t exactly meet eye to eye.
“Edmundo Diaz.” Yup, he was in trouble. “You don’t actually think that this is your fault, do you?” Buck said, his tone uncertain, brows furled even with the little bit of motion they had.
“… it’s just… you were right there, Buck. You were right in front of me, and then you were gone. I couldn’t catch you, couldn’t do anything. I was too slow to act, even when you were in arms reach of me, and now you might be blind.” His voice was thick with emotion as he looked over Buck’s face, hating now more than ever that he couldn’t see the others eyes, see how upset or disappointed Buck must be in him. He felt his own throat tighten as he looked down, his arm burning where it was on Buck’s hip. He didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as Buck, let alone touch him, and—
“Eddie, shut the fuck up.”
His jaw snapped shut with an audible click, Buck’s tone like concrete, heavy and unyielding as he jabbed a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You don’t get to apologize because you haven’t done anything wrong. Hell, you’re the only one doing anything right. You’re here, you stepped up, you’re helping me, you’re... hell, where is anyone else? You don’t get to apologize for stepping up, for making sure that I had... well, don’t think I didn’t notice you calling this our home.”
Buck was getting more and more animated as he spoke, and Eddie found himself floundering a little bit, trying to keep up with what Buck was saying (and fuck, had he really said that?). “Buck, I just—”
“Eddie, this is not your fucking fault and I won’t hear you say that ever again.”
...well. Eddie might have disagreed, but he wasn’t stupid enough to argue, not when he had an angry Buck in his bed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry about it anyway.” he grumbled, aware that he sounded like a petulant child—and if anything, the small smile that Buck had on his face meant Buck thought so too.
“Well, fine. I’m sorry too.”
“What? Buck, what do you have to be--”
“Sorry it took me having a major accident to get you to cuddle with me.”
“What! We aren’t—I didn’t—this isn’t—”
“Eddie, shut up.”
Eddie would have protest when he felt Buck’s shoulders start to shake, worried he had said the wrong thing again—but Buck was laughing, the sound muted under his breath, and Eddie let out a dramatic puff of air as he collapsed back to the bed, his arm back at Buck’s hips.
But, he did shut up.
--
Eddie almost slammed his head on the hood of his car when he heard a crash coming from the kitchen. He bolted out of the garage, hands stained with oil, swearing as he stumbled in to the main house, almost tripping up the stairs.
“Wait, Eddie, stop!”
Buck’s face was angled toward Eddie’s direction, hand out, obviously having heard him stumble down the hall. Eddie froze in place, eyes huge as he took in the scene—everything looked fine, Buck was upright, he wasn’t bleeding, but the ground around him was glittering with broken glass; nothing more than a broken dish, but Buck was barefoot.
Buck was okay. Eddie hadn’t failed him again. He hadn’t let him get hurt again.
Taking a few steps loser, he let the wrecked look on Buck’s face register for only a moment, wishing for nothing more than to make it go the fuck away. “Hey, okay, you’re good, it was just a plate.”
“And a glass.”
“And a glass.”
“I’ll pay for it, I promise.”
“Buck, if you think I own any nice dishes after having a kid, you have another thing coming.” Eddie laughed in spite of himself, only encouraged when Buck let out a wet sounding chuff. “Are you okay with me just lifting you out of here? It’ll be the easiest way to get you out of glass before I sweep everything up.”
Buck lifted his arms in response and Eddie had to bite down another laugh as he lifted the other male easily, his hands latched beneath his rear end, Buck’s chest right against his face. He brought Buck easily to the couch and deposited him there, getting a little hasty with the broom as he cleaned up—but Buck looked so miserable, he couldn’t stand to leave the other alone for any longer than he absolutely had to.
It made Eddie want to scream—not because of the situation, but because of everything leading up to it. The day before, Buck had tried to start cleaning the dishes, and had nearly impaled himself with one of Eddie’s pairing knives. The night before that, he had almost started a kitchen fire, cleaning the stove with cooking spray instead of Lysol. Buck passed both of these off as just trying to be helpful, but Eddie was about to pull out his hair—not because the situations were stressful, but because Buck kept coming closer and closer to hurting himself, and Eddie couldn’t accept that.
Tossing the glass into the garbage, he grabbed two beers and cracked them both open, making his way over to the couch with a sigh. “Alright, Buck, what’s up? Why are you pushing yourself so hard, when you only have a few days with the tape left?”
Eddie knew the answer before he even asked, the emotion on Buck’s face more clear than ever as he looked down. “Because I have to. What if I don’t get my vision back? All I want in the entire world is to rip this tape off, to—not even to see, just to know. I can’t stand not knowing, Eddie, I can’t. If I’m blind, I can’t be dependent on you forever, I can’t—”
“Hey, hey, take a breath.” Eddie easily took Buck’s hands in his own, squeezing them reassuringly, eyes studying the visible portions of Buck’s face, his thumb stroking over the pulse point in Buck’s wrist. “You know that whatever happens, we’ll be here for you, right? Chris and I aren’t going to let you face this on your own.
Buck let out another wet sounding laugh, sniffing as he shook his head. “Eddie, I told you, this wasn’t your fault—”
“I’m serious, Buck. We’re not letting you go. I’m not letting you go.”
Any protests that Buck had died in his throat as Eddie shrugged, his hands stilling beneath Eddie’s, suddenly painfully aware of their proximity. Eddie had to bite his lip to avoid laughing as Buck started to lean up, head moving on its own accord, because of course it would take Buck going blind to finally pick up on the signals Eddie had been broadcasting since forever—
“Eddie, I’m blind, you have to tell me if I’m misreading this, because I can’t see your stupid handsome face at all, and—mmphs!”
Eddie swallowed a laugh as he leaned in and claimed Buck’s lips with his own, feeling the quick moment of shock melt into something better, easier. His mouth was warm against Buck’s as he tilted his head, hand coming up to cup his jaw, only encouraged by Buck’s little moans as he melted into Eddie’s side.
The smile on his face was so bright when he pulled back that Eddie felt like he could feel the warmth from it sink into his skin, the heat from Buck’s breath dancing over his face, and nothing could bring him down from this high, not even Buck’s moment of insecurity as he squeezed Eddie’s arms.
“...you’re smiling, right?” Buck asked, his voice low, his own face cut into a shy smile that Eddie would have paid hard cash money to look at for the rest of his life.
Rather than answer, Eddie took Buck’s hands in his own, letting Buck’s fingers trace over his face, his smile, taking every moment he could to kiss the fingers that traced over his lips. Buck couldn’t help but laugh as he swatted Eddie’s shoulder, the sound warming Eddie to his very core—it was the first time in weeks that he had heard Buck laugh, he realized. Letting his arms slide back around Buck’s waist, he had to sigh as they fit back into one another’s space.
Chris didn’t even question finding the two of them like that when Carla brought home, because bless that kid. He just let his backpack fall to the floor, grabbed a blanket, and curled into Buck’s side. Buck, to his credit, let out a happy hum, wrapped an arm around Chris, and that was that.
(Two days later, Carla spent an absurd amount of time peeling the tape off of Buck’s eyelids, but Eddie couldn’t even complain about the laborious process when Buck’s eyes opened slowly, squinting as he started to re-focus.
Eddie held his breath as Buck’s eyes flickered over to him—not knowing if Buck could see was killing him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask, biting his lips as a smile bloomed over Buck’s face.
“God, you’re cute.”
Eddie wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying as Buck spoke, pulling his teammate—his Buck—into his arms, but he didn’t care. All that mattered right now was Buck, tight in his arms.)
