9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 11.5k words | love languages, getting together, love confessions, mutual pining, pov eddie diaz
Eddie has never put any faith in personality quizzes. Buck, however, loves them, just as he does every other curiosity-driven deep dive into the vast pool of knowledge on the World Wide Web.
“This one is different though,” Buck claims. He’s been trying to convince the whole crew to take a new test all morning.
“How is it different, Buckley?” Chimney asks from where he is slowly merging into a bean bag by Hen’s feet.
“It’s about Love Languages.”
OR
Eddie's love language is acts of service and Buck takes full advantage of this information.
9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 1k words | domestic fluff, hugs, forehead kisses, eddie towel drying buck's hair, light angst
Inspired by THIS beautiful artwork by @marz-rm
Eddie hears Buck come home while he’s in the kitchen chopping up carrots for dinner, hears the heavy thud of Buck's duffle bag landing on the floor by the door, his boots knocking against the baseboards as he toes them off next to the shoe rack—never on it, always next to it. He hears his socked feet shuffle gracelessly across the floor, footfalls heavy with exhaustion after a long shift as they carry him down the hall towards the bathroom. It must have been a rough shift if he’s going to shower before even saying hello.
Eddie listens for the sound of the water running and the bathroom door snibbing shut as he transfers the last of the carrots into the pressure cooker, sets the timer, and pushes it to the back of the bench.
He busies himself with cleaning the kitchen while he waits for Buck to finish in the shower, but it’s almost twenty minutes later that he finally hears the water turn off. The rustle and slide of the shower curtain tells him that Buck forgot to check that the bathroom door did close properly. Five or so minutes pass quietly, and then there’s a thud and yelp, the sound of something clattering to the floor, and then Eddie is down the hall in an instant.
“Buck?” He calls through the gap in the door. “You okay in there?”
Buck hesitates a moment too long before he says, “Yeah, I—, I just tripped on the bath mat.”
“Can I come in?”
“Ah, yeah, yeah.”
Eddie pushes his way into the room and steps on a toothbrush with the first step he takes—catching sight of the blue and green handle, he makes a mental note to replace it with a new one before Christopher goes to get ready for bed later. The toothbrush holder is rolling back and forth on the floor nearby, and the bath mat is rucked up under Buck’s soaked feet.
Buck—dressed again in sweat shorts and a loose grey tank top—is leaning heavily against the counter with his wet hair curling over his forehead and dripping into his eyes.
“Sit,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t protest as he sinks down onto the closed lid of the toilet and rests his forearms on his knees.
Eddie pulls a clean hand towel from the bottom drawer of the bathroom cabinet and drapes it over Buck’s freshly washed hair and begins by wiping the trickling droplets from his forehead and around the back of his neck before he starts rubbing gently through his hair.
“So, 24-hour shift without me,” Eddie starts lightly, “How did you manage to survive?”
“Barely did, my body feels like jelly.” Buck admits and Eddie hears him swallow before he adds, “But this feels pretty good.”
Eddie makes sure to dig his fingers into Buck’s scalp just a little more and smiles when the other man leans into it heavily.
He aches for him, for not being there with him today. Since returning from Texas, they've been on opposite shifts more often than not. With Bobby on extended leave post-containment breach slash government conspiracy, and Chimney and Hen alternately sharing the captaincy of the 118, Eddie has been filling paramedic shifts on a probationary basis until he can complete official training for the position, while Buck has been partnered with Ravi. It’s strange and hard and new, but still a better reality than the one they thought they were facing a few months ago.
“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks as he continues to rub the towel over Buck’s curly head.
“Not really.” Buck says, “It’s the same old, same old, you know.”
“Yeah, I do,” Eddie whispers, and it’s easy to guess what’s plaguing Buck’s mind. It could be anything from a call gone wrong, a kid, a wrong-place-wrong-time, an inevitable, an I’m-sorry-there’s-nothing-more-we-can-do.
Eddie drags the towel back over Buck’s head, revealing his downcast face and the resigned slump of his shoulders.
“Hey, come here.” Eddie urges and reaches to maneuver him, but Buck comes easily, leaning his head against Eddie’s hip as he winds his arms around Eddie’s waist and holds tightly. One of Eddie’s hands finds its home at the nape of Buck’s neck in the soft dip at the top of his spine, while his other hand wraps around his shoulders and holds him firmly against him.
They stay like that for a long moment, Buck’s finger flexing in the material of Eddie’s shirt, Eddie’s finger carding carefully through Buck’s hair, separating his curls into winding ringlets on the top of his head and then scraping his blunt nails down the back of his neck.
Eventually, Buck doesn’t let go so much as his arms relax so much that they end up draped around the backs of Eddie’s knees, his nose still rubbing at the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. Eddie grabs Buck’s hands as he crouches down and holds them in Buck’s lap as they lean their foreheads together.
“I’m making beef stew. Bobby texted it to me this morning.”
Buck breathes out slowly, and the air rushes over Eddie’s lips. “That sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” Eddie lets go of one hand and reaches up to cup Buck’s cheek, tilting his chin down so that Eddie can press one long kiss to his forehead. Buck hums in appreciation.
It’s new this thing between them, tentative and fragile but certain in a way very few things in either of their lives have been. They’re talking it slow, feeling out the corners and the edges of this newfound space and filling it slowly with hope and promise and so much love Eddie feels like he’s bursting with it.
“I don’t think I can stand up yet.” Buck admits, “My legs still feel like jelly.”
Eddie chuckles and tugs lightly on the lobe of Buck’s ear. “That’s okay, you wait here and I’ll get you a sweatshirt.”
He brushes his hands over Buck’s broad shoulders as he stands. His skin is warm from the heat of the water, but the man shivers in his tank top.
Buddie | Rated T | 693 words for @dangerpronebuddie
contains spoilers for S9 9x18
“Eddie?”
“M-maddie,” he grits out. His cheek presses to the cool wall and it feels like a relief, like a first breath after being submerged. The tear in his side is searing but for a singular moment it’s shuttered out. “Shooter. Hospital. Gotta- gotta tell them.”
“Eddie, where are you?” Her calm dispatcher persona barely covers the panic creeping in.
“No time. Jus-” Fire rips through him as he shifts his weight and it’s all he can do not to cry out.
“Eddie?!”
“Just tell them. At least one coming up the stairs. Straight for ‘em.”
“Okay, okay, hold on.”
He expects the line to go dead or to at least be put on hold. Instead, he’s privy to Maddie’s call into Chim. Blackness fades in and out, accompanied by the ringing in his ears. He only wishes it was louder so he didn’t have to hear the two of them. So he could be ignorant to warnings mixed with ‘make it home’ and ‘I love you’.
Right now there’s only one thing–one voice–he wants to hear, other than his kid.
i hope i ain't the last of what the world left you
buck/eddie 1.5k
post-9x17 coda
damn who knew i still knew how to write buddie askjdfsha but sure enough they are still in my brain ❤️ (head's up that this deals with buck's feelings on the theo of it all in case that's not your cup of tea)
-
Buck knocks instead of just letting himself in.
He always does that when he’s feeling unsteady, as if he’s forgotten what’s allowed. As if Eddie hadn’t text him twenty minutes ago saying, ‘Come over.’
Either way, Chris gets to the door before him, Eddie rounding the corner of the dining area just in time to see Chris reaching out to hug Buck hello. He’s gotten so tall now but he still looks like a little kid when he wraps his arms around Buck’s middle and presses his face to his chest. Buck looks surprised – Chris isn’t all that keen on doling out free hugs nowadays – but his arms come around Chris after a beat and the hug settles.
“Hey buddy,” Buck says, soft and thrown. “What’s this for?”
Chris pulls away, letting Buck hold his arm to steady him. “Dad said you needed it.”
Buck looks up then and over to where Eddie’s leaning against the wall. “He did, huh?” On another day, it’d sound exasperated.
“Yeah.” Chris steps back; angling towards the couch again where he’s got his video game paused. He looks over at Eddie. “Can I play until the pizza gets here?”
Eddie huffs a laugh but nods. “Sure thing, kid.”
Chris takes his dismissal on the way to the couch and Eddie catches Buck’s eye, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. Buck inclines his head, pushing the front door closed and following Eddie. Eddie spins on his heel once the kitchen door has swung closed behind them.
“So was Chris’ one enough or do you need one from me too?”
He opens his arms a little, not quite urging Buck but offering nonetheless. Buck only stares at him for a wordless second before he steps forward and collapses into his arms with a shuddering breath. Eddie brings his arms around him, squeezing tight as Buck hides his face in his shoulder. They stay like that longer than they normally would but- extenuating circumstances. When Buck does eventually start to lean back his eyes are red as they meet Eddie’s.
“Let’s sit,” he says quietly, giving Buck’s shoulder one last squeeze before reaching to pull out one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
Buck drops heavily into the chair across from him, propping his elbows on top of the table and dragging his hands over his face.
“You want a beer?” Eddie asks because their emotional conversations always come with a side of beer but Buck shakes his head.
“Chris said something about pizza?” he says, dropping his hands restlessly on the table.
“Already ordered. Should be another half hour probably.”
Buck nods, eyes unfocused and brow furrowed. He’s still thinking about Theo, Eddie can tell.
“You’re worried about him,” Eddie prompts, keeping his voice gentle. A sensitive Buck can find accusation in anything, even sympathy.
Buck shakes his head, expression creasing in concern before he forcibly smooths out again. “I just- I feel like I should-”
“Like you should be the one taking care of him?”
Buck winces and Eddie knows that means he’s right.
“I shouldn’t,” Buck says, like he’s trying to convince himself, before he turns his beseeching eyes on Eddie. “It’s not- I’m not his dad.”
“No, you’re not,” Eddie agrees. “But you technically weren’t Chris’ dad either when you stepped up to help me.”
Buck jerks his head abruptly, his whole torso locking in surprise as he stares at Eddie. “What-”
“Buck, do you know how many times I would’ve drowned without you helping me?” He meets Buck’s gaze, hoping the sincerity is written all over his face. “Even in the first couple of weeks after I moved here, you did so much to help me give Chris what he needed.”
Buck blinks rapidly, mouth parting. “I…But I was just being-”
“Being Buck?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, a small smile at the corners of his mouth.
He can see the tears gathering in the corners of Buck’s eyes now but he shakes his head before they fall. “It was different.”
“Why?”
“Because you were there!” he exclaims, frustrated. “You were alive. I was helping both of you. And I- I knew my place.” He shakes his head, rubbing anxiously at his jaw. “But Kameron and Connor aren’t. And I don’t know what they’d want. Or if I want to do this for them or-or for Theo or for me or…”
Eddie considers him, bumping their feet under the table in silent reassurance. “I don’t think you need to know,” he says quietly and Buck huffs like he doesn’t believe him.
“I’m serious,” he continues. “Maybe on a different day you’d be able to figure it out but right now…” He pauses, taking a breath. “Your friends just died. And there’s a little boy who’s alone. There isn’t a single version of this story where you don’t want to help.”
Buck is silent as he absorbs that and Eddie can’t help pushing a little bit more, can’t help digging his hands in enough to try and get that uncertainty off Buck’s face.
“You remember what I said to you, right?” he murmurs. “When I told you about the will?”
They don’t talk about it. Ever. It feels like an elephant in the room not to talk about it now.
“You said no one would ever fight for Chris as much as me,” Buck says, repeating it dutifully. Eddie can tell even now he doesn’t fully believe it. “This is different though.”
“How come?”
Buck huffs a breath and Eddie braces himself, a hysterical part of him hoping Buck will just say it. Say that it’s different because it’s Christopher. Because he loves Christopher the same way Eddie does and he always has. That he never allowed himself to linger on the thought of Theo long enough to let him feel like his son but Chris is different.
Buck doesn’t say any of that but the answer is on his face anyway when he meets Eddie’s eyes.
“I don’t- know Theo,” is what he settles on. He lets out a humourless laugh. “Connor made this dumb comment about how he was still my kid and it…didn’t feel right. Because he’s not. He’s theirs. I did this for them and- and I made sure I was out of the picture so I wouldn’t get attached. But there’s still this feeling in the pit of my stomach like…”
He holds up a hand as if searching for the answer before he lets it drop again, shaking his head. He already looks like he regrets what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.
“Like I could love him if I was allowed to,” he whispers. He screws his eyes shut, something like shame written all over him, and Eddie swallows down his urge to rush to Buck’s defence in favour of waiting him out.
“That’s fucked up, right?” He looks at Eddie, hoping he’ll find the judgement he thinks he deserves, probably. “I shouldn’t- I tried so hard to keep it all separate in my head and now- fuck, if I get to be in his life it’s like I’m being rewarded because they’re gone and that’s so fucking insane and-”
“Buck.” Eddie keeps his voice low as he reaches across the table to settle a hand over Buck’s.
Buck’s mouth still snaps shut with a click and he stares at Eddie with wide, terrified eyes.
“Everything about this is going to feel fucked up today.” He remembers what the aftermath is like, remembers the horrifying shame that came swinging round to smack him in the face every time he dared to allow himself to feel angry at Shannon for asking for a divorce and then dying before they could talk about it anymore. Grief makes every emotion feel wrong.
“It’ll probably feel fucked up tomorrow too,” he says. “But if you want to see him or check in on him then I think you should. We both know of way too many times people have fallen through the cracks in the system and that kid could do a hell of a lot worse than having you in his corner. How you feel about it doesn’t need to make sense yet.”
Buck stares down at Eddie’s hand covering his own. It makes Eddie feel self-conscious but he doesn’t pull away.
Eventually, Buck nods. “Yeah, okay.”
The doorbell rings then, cleaving through the heavy weight of the room and Chris is yelling, “Pizza’s here!” and Buck almost smiles. But not quite.
“Let’s eat on the couch.” Eddie takes his hand back, pushing himself up out of his seat. Buck follows after a delayed beat, going to the fridge for their emotional support beers.
Once the coffee table is covered in pizza boxes they take up residence on the couch, Chris between them and doing most of the heavy lifting in their conversation. It’s still comforting in its familiarity. Eddie eats his pizza and throws his own two cents into the conversation as necessary and pretends he doesn’t notice the way Buck’s gaze keeps flitting over Christopher like he’s trying to figure something out.
It’s a different question to the one he came here with but Eddie hopes he realises this one, at least, is something he already has the answer to.
