#transfer!eddie

[snowflake194]

more transfer!eddie!!! if you please???

happily!!! dot my beloved this one is scratching a very specific itch because weaving in this particular canon detail was so important To Me and it genuinely felt like solving a little puzzle rahhhhh I love torturing them

The nurse tells him she's made it through surgery and points him down the hall to the left, and Buck's legs are moving on their own accord.

Both of them are still there to do so, which is more than he can say for her, and Buck has long since come to understand just how lucky he got that that was how his story ended. Still, part of him has always wondered where he would've been now had that not been the case.

What would've had to happen for him to have lost his leg, lying there on the asphalt in the middle of an intersection?

He doesn't remember much from that night. Just the warmth of the ground against the coldness creeping up his leg, Bobby's voice somewhere above him and then the hopital ceiling.

He remembers the helplessness, though. The hopelessness. How useless he felt, lying there not knowing if he was going to lose one of the few things that had carried him through life and across state lines when he had nothing else to rely on.

If Eddie had been there that night, would he have suggested the same? Would he have offered to just cut it off because he'd seen it in Afghanistan?

Buck wants to believe he wouldn't have.

He just wishes someone had held his hand.

The shake of his head and the rounding of the corner into the little waiting room of this wing of the hospital, and they don't see him, is the thing, sitting on the bench near the far wall on the other side of the room, but Buck's legs stop.

His entire body sorts of just stops right there, just out of sight, because Cal isn't alone, sitting outside his wife's room.

And there's that uselessness again, if only a different kind entirely, seeing Eddie sitting there beside him.

Help me write

[snowflake194]

a lil bit of transfer!eddie pls!!!!

just a wee lil bit just for you!!! and the first eddie pov yay!

"I don't need him to like me." Eddie keeps his eyes on the road unfurling beyond the windshield, on the steady rhythm of painted lines disappearing beneath the ambulance. "I'm not here to make friends."

Which is probably a misstep on his part, if the silence stretching beside him just long enough to feel Hen's eyes on him is any indication.

"Present company excluded, of course," he amends quickly with a nod of his head, glancing sideways to catch the corner of Hen's smile.

"Of course," she echoes, and it earns him a few merciful seconds of silence as she turns her attention to the radio instead, Dispatch giving them a heads-up about a standstill up ahead that has Hen directing him toward the next exit before the congestion can swallow them whole, pointing him toward a side street Eddie hasn't yet learned the name of.

He's still learning this patch of the city, and while Hen probably knows it like the lines on her own palms, Eddie only knows enough to trust her.

"So why are you here, then?" she asks once they're back on track, picking up the conversation exactly where she'd left it and catching Eddie off guard all the same. "Why did you leave the 136?"

help me write

[snowflake194]

a little late to the game cause I was busyyyy but transfer!eddie au ?? 👀👀 im gonna go thru ur blog see if there are snippets already.....

not late at all, friend!! i'm still very much in the setting up this 'verse stage, so there isn't much to catch up on yet <3 this one's still relatively near the beginning and takes place a little later in this scene.

It's easy to consider the hypothetical of it in a way it never has before, which only makes his stomach turn; only has him convincing himself, again, that he's letting Lucy beat him in a final game of pool.

But it follows him, this idea, through a shared car ride and all the way home and up the stairs, hands roving and lips tingling, and he knows, somewhere beneath the pleasant blur of alcohol and the instinctive choreography of bodies finding one another once more on the other side of a tragedy, there is a part of him watching it all unfold with the distant certainty that this, too, is only comforting in its familiarity.

The familiarity of waking up to an empty bed and a pounding head and a text that reads, think about it.

Waking up in this apartment, which Buck has been calling home for years now, but has never been anything more than four walls and a lease with his name on it. A place forever changing, forever taking the shape of whichever stranger happened to call it theirs, just for a little while.

It, too, is calling for a change; is haunted by it.

But there are far worse ghosts to be haunted by.

help me write

[snowflake194]

transfer!eddie sounds so interesting wow, can’t wait to see more of that 👀👀👀👀

transfer!eddie yesss she is so dear to me!! i am realizing that the eddie pov is basically gonna be one big Spoiler™ and i really want to build her up before i share any of it, so, buck again!! but i promise there's a method to my madness... i think <3 ALSO!! LUCY!!

"You know, my offer still stands," Lucy says, tipping back another shot and chasing it with a lime wedge pinched between her teeth.

Buck follows her with his own, helpless to do much more tonight besides follow wherever he is led, and still, somehow, is left scrambling for directions.

"You could always get that certification," she clarifies, her attention fixed not on Buck but rather on the task of balancing the used-up lime wedge atop the ever-growing cairn in the middle of their table. "Transfer over to Harbor."

And Buck is helpless, is the thing, watching the little pile wobble and then collapse, only for Lucy to go at it again.

He is helpless, and there's probably more alcohol in his bloodstream than anyone should have the night before a shift and sure, he will probably regret it tomorrow morning, but right now— right now he is helpless.

Helpless but to wonder, would it really be so terrible?

If everything is changing, isn't he allowed to change, too?

"You do have badass coffee mugs," he tries to joke around the burn blooming warm beneath his ribs, leaving Lucy to her impossible little monument as he leans back against the soft fabric of the booth and lets a wave of something heavy and terribly familiar wash over him, reminded suddenly of the first time they called for a flying miracle, and everything that had followed in its wake.

Reminded, too, of the second time he called for the same miracle, hoping, foolishly, that the universe might be merciful enough to grant it once more.

help me write

[snowflake194]

literally begging pleading for transfer!eddie omg.... that's soooo crunchy....

transfer!eddie for you dear friend MWAH!! it is truly so so crunchy and i've barely even begun to scratch the surface... i am writing this completely out of order but this is at least relatively close to the beginning <3

One thing is becoming abundantly clear though, Buck realizes as he catches himself on a retort and instead pushes himself to his feet, thanks them both for the meal, and heads out the door without a second glance at the expression waiting on his new captain's face.

One thing is clear, and it's the fact that he has no one to talk to about any of it— not without being met with the same lecture and not without turning it into a bigger deal than it apparently is to everyone else. 

He'd thought Chimney, of all people, would understand. After everything he and Hen had been through? The last time someone new walked into the station and almost—

They almost—

"Buck!"

His hands are shaking, he notices, when his thumb misses the button to order an Uber for the second time, sitting on the curb in his sister's driveway.

Where would he even go?

"I'm sorry, Maddie," he calls over his shoulder, voice unsteady as he finally settles on an address, if only to get his body somewhere that isn't here. Somewhere that might sand down the sharpest edges of his mind until he can no longer feel himself catching on them.

Somewhere the ghost of the one person he'd give anything to talk to would never follow.

help me write

[snowflake194]

Last 3 sentences challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last three lines you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as you feel like.

Thanks for the tag @fastcardotmp3 mwah!

And just in time because somehow i once again found myself working on the fic i said i'd never write last night, so i actually have something to share! yay!

Buck laughs and reaches up to grab a bottle of antiseptic and a few butterfly bandages from the upper cabinet behind him, so it's not until he turns back around that the look on Eddie's face makes him pause, makes him realize he'd better make sure that— "You’re kidding, right?"

Eddie shrugs in response, and the movement pulls a sharp hiss from his throat, sends his face contracting with pain.

"Jesus Christ, man," Buck sighs, shaking his head as he brings a hand back to Eddie's jaw, tilting it just so and angling him into the light so he can inspect the torn skin above his eyebrow. "Hold still."

not sure who's writing so if you read this consider yourself tagged <3