#9, the uncomfortable car ride because everything hurts, has me 👀👀👀
It definitely seems like a situation the boys would find themselves in
🩵💜🩵💜
It shouldn’t have been Eddie who was there. Well, if there was any moment where Buck was uncomfortable or hurt and not feeling well or generally anything beyond a shade of fine, Eddie dared anyone to try and keep him from Buck’s side but that wasn’t the point!
Eddie shouldn’t have been there. Comforting Buck and being the solid weight to fall on was Tommy’s job now.
Eddie had told Buck that nothing would change between them. Buck liking men didn’t change how Eddie viewed him: kind, brave, bright, wonderful.
Beautiful.
No. No, Eddie was with Marisol. He was with Marisol whom he could see a real future with if he didn’t get in his own way. He was just starting to figure out life and he wasn’t about to throw all that carefully constructed balance now just because Buck lit up brighter than the goddamn sun whenever Tommy walked into the room.
The barely there whine slipped past Buck’s bloodless lips and he writhed in the seat next to him. His legs bunched up like he wanted to curl them into his chest and hide behind his knees. But the movement just dragged out a sharp gasp as agony rippled through Buck until he was shaking with beads of sweat dragging down droplets from his temples. Whether it was from the pain, the fever, or a combination of both, Eddie couldn’t be sure.
But he was damn sure that he had no business being the one to put his hand on Buck’s knee and squeezing, offering what little comfort he could while he drove through traffic.
Cold, clammy hands curled around his wrist and held on like it was the only thing keeping Buck from tumbling over the edge.
“Hurts.” Buck got out between clenched teeth that chattered periodically from the pain.
“I know,” Eddie said, his thumb sweeping soft caresses on Buck’s knee because it was about the only thing he could do. That and drive as fast as he could navigate his truck in downtown LA. “We’re almost there.”
Buck tipped and before Eddie could realize what was happening, his head was resting on Eddie’s bicep as his arms curled around Eddie’s forearm. The tilt was awkward and Buck looked like he was about the pass out without Eddie keeping him propped up. The small sigh of relief slid out of Buck for just a second before he was tense and uncomfortable again. But it was a second of relief Eddie would take.
He ignored the way his heart seemed to do a series of somersaults in his chest.
He had to. Because it shouldn’t have been there. Buck had Tommy. Tommy, who was in the air and would drop everything to come running when he saw Eddie’s voicemail when he landed.
Eddie knew that. Just like he knew that Buck’s appendix was probably coming out that night.
That didn’t make it any easier though and Eddie didn’t think he was ready to know why.
I was tagged by @underwaterninja13 and oh my, whatever could be happening here?
Eddie’s hand creeps under his sweats and wraps around his cock. A second text comes in.
I want us to stay close as possible so like like my leg thrown over your hip and you can finger me by wrapping your hand around my waist and down over my ass am I making any sense?
The repetition of the word ‘like’ stirs more suspicion. Is Buck… is Buck using voice-to-text as well?
He knows Buck does that at times when his thoughts are coming too fast for his fingers to keep up with, so if he is doing that, that’s probably all it is.
I guess you'll all just have to guess. Or wait and find out. :3
“Oh?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised and he pulled the door open wider, waving a hand for Buck to come in. “Why’s that?”
“You know why, Eds. Don’t make me beg,” Buck nearly whimpered as he stumbled into the house, swallowing harshly against the whine that wanted to rip free.
“If you want out of the bet bad enough, you can tell me,” Eddie goaded, looking at him with dark, heated eyes.
Buck couldn’t believe that Eddie was actually looking at him like that. It looked like….well, like Eddie was interested. But that wasn’t possible…was it?
“C’mon, Buck,” Eddie said lowly, his voice filling the silence around them. “Use your words.”
Buck swallowed past the lump in his throat. Eddie was here, looking at him with those eyes, talking to him in that tone, how was he supposed to be normal? How could he not read into it?
“Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.” For SalEddie or Salami please 💜
You absolutely may have that! Enjoy some Saleddie smut.
100 smut dialog prompts
Court Is In Session
Read below the cut or on AO3
Sal loves Eddie. He does. His husband is equal parts sweet and sassy, kind, compassionate, and intelligent. But he is also the biggest brat Sal has ever met.
Sal is not Tommy, he is not a brat tamer, nor does he want to be one. He does not have his best friends unending patience or Tommy's specific mean streak that makes him enjoy taking brats down a peg.
And yet the universe had the audacity to laugh at Sal making him fall in love with one. Sal loves Eddie for all that he is, brattieness included. Most of the time. Sal loved his husband's brattieness the same way one would love a half feral trash cat that showed up on your doorstep one day in need of love and a good home.
Most of the time Sal thinks he has done a fantastic job of training the feral trash cat he has fallen head over heels in love with and married. Today is not one of those days.
Eddie is being snarky, and mean, and ungodly stubborn. All Sal wants is to take advantage of their teenager free evening, take his husband out to a nice romantic dinner home before tying him up and rewarding him for being a good boy with multiple orgasms.
Only Eddie is not being a good boy. He is stretched out on the couch laying in the sun while texting Buck.
"Babe, go get in the shower and get dressed so we don't lose our reservation!" Sal shouted from their bedroom after his own shower.
"Fuck off. I'm busy!" Eddie called back making Sal's eye twitch wondering what the hell stick got lodged up Eddie's ass. Sal strolled out of their bedroom, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirts.
"Edmundo." Sal growled, glaring at his husband still laying on the couch, not even bothering to look up from his phone. "Gossiping with Buck is not a priority right now." Sal doesn't get a response, his husband giving him the silent treatment.
"Kitten," Sal growled, his voice dropping almost two full actives with his annoyance. "Don't make me tell you twice." Still no response.
Fine. If Eddie wanted to act like a pissed off cat Sal was going to treat him like one.
He stalked across their living room to where Eddie was stretched out on the couch like a damn cat sunning themselves. There is a reason Sal calls his husband Kitten, and this is why. When Sal gripped Eddie by his scruff pulling him up off the couch. If Eddie could have, he would have puffed up and hissed at Sal.
"I told you not to make me tell you twice." Sal growled marching his husband off towards their bedroom and it's attached bathroom. He doesn't give two solid shits what made Eddie decide today was the day to try this but Sal is absolutely not about to let husband husband's bratting ruin his plans for that night.
Sal had to book their fucking dinner reservation almost seven weeks ago, he is not missing it because apparently Eddie wants to get his ass beat. If that's what he wants he will simply have to wait until after they get home.
And Eddie will absolutely get getting the capsasin cream instead of rimmed.
I’m gonna cover @fierybuck’s comment too with this but here ya go hon! Here’s a small little piece of the article that leads to Buck finding out about Tommy’s time in the Army.
Thomas "The Ghost" Kinard was the United State Army's most decorated pilots over his 7 years of service to his country. Flying missions into hostile territory on a sometimes daily basis without the enemy being aware of his presence earned him the call sign The Ghost.
If you’re gonna go to a super fancy coffee shop and it’s free for some reason idk, what kind of coffee are you getting?
Oh, I'm boring. I switch things up, but I generally keep Starbucks' Caffè Verona at my house as my go-to. I use Truvia as a sweetener instead of sugar. I also add both milk and a bit of creamer. My creamer flavor varies as my tastes do. Rn I have Italian Sweet Crème.
What I order at a coffee shop depends on the shop I go to. I generally get something cold. An iced mocha or some sort of blended drink. I'm paying more, so I don't generally wanna get just regular coffee. I can make that at home.
Omg Cuddling in a Blanket Fort for any pairing that strikes your fancy please!
Uffda! You should not have given me blanket permission for any ship that strikes my fancy because my brain went straight to SalHowie(Howal? Sawie? Chimal? Samney?) Anyway I hope you enjoy some cute blanket fort fluff for Sal and Chimney.
Also tagging @racerchix21 because my fascination with SalHowie stems from a story i wrote for her, and @rdng1230 @cliophilyra and @thecarrott because they also love Sal Deluca ☺️
Non-Sexual Intimacy Prompts
Sal was having a no good, very bad day.
It was like that book his mama would read to him and his siblings when they were particularly grumpy as kids, but Sal didn't get to find out it's Saturday or get to go outside and play at the end of the book.
He is thirty-seven weeks pregnant, he has to pee constantly, fresh air gives him heart burn so bad he vomits, and his sciatic nerve is on fire. Most offensive of all though is being put on restrictive desk duty. Who has ever heard for a fire captain being man behind in their own house? He can't believe he had to make Chavez his Acting Captain already, not that Chavez isn't a damn good leader and equally competent fire fighter, it's the principle of the matter.
Sal is completely done with all of it. He is done with his shift. He is done with this stupid day. And most of all, he is done with being pregnant. Sal wants their daughter out of him now.
Unfortunately Baby Girl Deluca-Han doesn't seem particularly inclined to vacate Sal's body any time soon. Which Sal fully blames her father for. But since he can't have his body or his job back yet tonight he will settle for passibly mid take out in bed while Howie is on shift.
Maybe it isn't Saturday, and maybe he doesn't get to go outside and play. But Sal arrives home to something even better. Howard.
Howie who is supposed to be on shift till tomorrow. Howie who had been sent on a medical call with Hen cutting their phone call earlier short. Howie who is at their home and had transformed it into something magical.
The entire house smells like home in a nostalgic way. It smells like his Mama and Nona's kitchen's back in New York. Like garlic, fresh herbs, and love. There isn't a single harsh light on in the house, there are twinkle lights strung up all over the living room which had been turned into a giant blanket fort.
Sal is normally a pretty stoic guy, occasionally outburts of anger aside, so he blames his pregnancy hormones for the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Tears that he blinks back as best he can. Because one of Sal's favorite memories was creating elaborate blanket forts with his siblings and cousins as a kid, watching movies in those blanket forts before falling asleep in a giant Deluca family sleepover.
Sal thinks Howie has used every blanket they own, and some the dont, to construct the tent like blanket fort that takes up half of their massive living room making it feel small and intimate, like a tiny protective nest or burrow, just for their growing family with their insanely comfortable, over stuffed couch at the center of it and The Princess Bride qued up on the tv. Howie appears behind him holding two massive bowls of fresh home made spaghetti alla putttanesca.
That's what makes Sal lose the battle against his hormones and cry. Because Howie made his his comfort food, he can tell from the way the noodles are far from uniform only Howie could have made them.
"You're supposed to be at work." Sal cries lately, because it's easier to focus on that rather than everything Howie has done to make Sal's bad day better. Howie, his sweet, wonderful husband sets down the bowls of deliciously fragrant pasta before taking Sal's face between his hands, using the pads of his thumbs to tenderly wipe away Sal's tears.
"Bobby gave me the night off. My husband needed me more than the people of LA." Howie explained bringing Sal in for a gentle kiss.
"How did you even pull this off?" Sal asked with a sniffle, resting his exhausted, sore body against Howie's strong one. He can take the weight, and does it without complaining, his hands coming to the small of Sal's back gently massaging it.
"I had some help." Sal listens contently as Howie explains how Karen and Tommy had helped him move the couch and construct the tent like blanket fort, how Howie had FaceTimed his Mama and she had walked Howie through every step of her puttanesca recipe. Howie has come a long way as a cook, especially under Bobby's tutelage, but Sal is a Mama's boy at heart, and no puttanesca can compare to his Mama's recipe. "Come on baby, let's go eat before our dinner gets cold." Howie says softly leading Sal to their big couch settling him into it making sure Sal is supported by a plethora of pillows.
Their dinner is so good that Sal is in danger of crying all over again, the puttanesca tastes just like his Mama's. It's perfectly. Howie had even found the perfect non-alcoholic wine to pare with it, giving Sal a sense of normality in his ever changing body. The couple curl up together as they eat watching Sal's favorite movie. Once their food is finished and Sal has had second and third helping - he's eating for two after all - the couple rearrange themselves on the couch so that they are cuddling.
Sal and Howie are connected from head to toe with no space between them. Sal is happily curled around his husband while one of Howie's hands massages his bastard sciatic nerve and the other hand gents pets Sal's distended belly. Baby girl had been using his organs for punching bags and his bladder as a trampoline all day, but she has gone quiet and still under Howie's soothing hands.
"Feels good." Sal murmured feeling relaxed and sleepy.
"You deserve it." Howie replied kissing the top of his head. Sal knows it is Howie's knowledge of the human body and medicine, but it feels like magic when the hand massaging his lower back finds just the right spot, pressing just right. Sal relaxes even more with a loud moan as the pain leaves his body.
"We should name Baby Girl, Buttercup." Sal says withbanother moan, because this might be the best back rub Sal has ever gotten, including the one Howie gave him the night that he had gotten pregnant. Howie chuckles softly into the top of Sal's head,
"Let's revisit that when you aren't hyped up on oxytocin and endorphins." Howie suggets sweetly. Sal will let it go, for now, he doesn't think he'll change his mind, but he's feeling so good. All loose limbs and warm fuzzy emotions, but it has been a long day. He doesn't want to ruin the cozy romantic mood by arguing about baby names right now.
"Another." Sal demands feeling a little bratty and petulant when the credits roll on the movie. He's exhausted and could fall asleep right here in the warm soft glow of twinkle lights and blankets. He's the most comfortable hevhas been since the start of his third trimester with a big soft, fuzzy blanket covering them while Sal uses Howie as a pillow. Howie kisses the top of his head, rubbing a hand over the massive swell of Sal's belly.
"Okay." Howie whispers turning on Robin Hood Men In Tights.
Marian is a pretty name, they should name Baby Girl Marian. Sal mumbles into Howie's chest before his eyes close and he falls asleep, snoring softly.
