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Bipolar disorder be so crazy one day Iâm running a 5k in sub 20minutes and now Iâve eaten an entire rum cake in tears and have written the most tragic fanfic to ever grace my google docs.
sometimes it's like. i don't really wanna have an opinion about this in public because i don't feel that strongly. but a lot of people are having ill informed opinions about it and i don't feel i can offer correct information without also an opinion. so i just have to suffer
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Lance McClain is content at home-- really, he is-- but when Keith shows up at his door, begging for help, he can't say no.
"They want to turn a property of mine into a museum, for some reason," Keith said.
âWhich property?â Lance asked. He held his hand to shield against the bright sky as he looked up to Keith.
âThe desert shack."
Now, Lance is on the universe's most exclusive weekend trip, forced to help Keith go through a musty pile of memories. Fabulous.
Here are the facts:
1. Keith is still the most smart-yet-stupid motherfucker Lance has ever met
2. Shiro and Curtis are disgustingly adorable
3. A twin bed is far too small for a grown man, and
4. He should have fallen out of love with Keith when he had the chance.
ik most of my followers and feed are 9-1-1 and Marvel, but for those VLD fans Iâve encountered along my way, please check out her beautiful fic!! So so so proud of her growth and development as a writer. Even if you donât fuck with Klance, this will change that
happy wip wednesday! today i am FINALLY revealing the name of my postcanon klance fic:
walk with me (releasing on March 22nd)
Lance McClain is content at home-- really, he is-- but when Keith shows up at his door, begging for help, he can't say no.
"They want to turn a property of mine into a museum, for some reason," Keith said.
âWhich property?â Lance asked. He held his hand to shield against the bright sky as he looked up to Keith.Â
âThe desert shack."
Now, Lance is on the universe's most exclusive weekend trip, forced to help Keith go through a musty pile of memories. Fabulous.
Here are the facts:
Keith is still the most smart-yet-stupid motherfucker Lance has ever met
Shiro and Curtis are disgustingly adorable
A twin bed is far too small for a grown man, and
He should have fallen out of love with Keith when he had the chance.
A story of: running away from your past vs. being stuck in your past. missing the chase. wishing for time to slow down. confronting what's been long-buried. finally voicing the unspoken. pushing and pulling. a new meaning to a desert sunrise. a love that challenges you to grow.
Lance threw open a set of metal doors with a loud bang, sending interns with coffee flying as he stormed in.
âLance!â Allura rushed up to greet him. She was flawless as always, her white hair pulled back into a neat bun. She was dressed in a pink jumpsuit that somehow made her impossibly taller.
âHowâs everything holding up?â Lance asked her. He was a stark contrast to Allura in his quickly thrown together jeans and t-shirt. Dark rings circled his eyes, his normally dewy skin was pale, and his whole body felt like it was going to fall apart.
âJust perfectly, donât worry,â Allura assured him. She pulled a clipboard out of seemingly thin air, running through a checklist at rapid fire speed. âAll of the collection has had quality tests and checks. The lighting crew is fully set up. The models have been briefed on what they have to convey and the message of the line⌠but.â She paused.
Lance felt his face go flat. âThereâs a but.â
âBut,â she continued weakly, jabbing a pen at her clipboard. âThereâs one model that seems to be a bit challenging. He wonât listen to the directors, just keeps posing how he sees fit. Itâs making the other models slightly⌠on edge.â
At that moment, Lance heard the unmistakable sounds of boots clomping over to the door. He looked over to see Nyma, one of his favorite models to work with, storming out.
âI just canât work with that new guy! Heâs the fucking worst. Takes all the damn spotlight and then has the gall to act like he doesnât know. Dick.â She practically was growling as she left.
Lance raised an eyebrow at Allura. She sighed. âFine, sheâs right. Heâs a dick.â
âIâll take care of it, Llura,â Lance promised. âThis is my collection. If thereâs something majorly wrong, Iâve gotta fix it myself. You go deal with Hunk, I think I saw him crying over a wind machine in the room next door.â Allura looked relieved, nodding and walking toward the same exit Nyma had left through. Her tall white heels made delicate clacking noises as she left Lance to fend for himself.
Lance inhaled, straightening up and trying to summon the courage of a head designer. This was his first full collection with Altea designs. He was finally done with years of internships, assistant positions, and execution of othersâ creative visions. Blue was supposed to be something revolutionary. Allura had assured him that it was unique, but not too bold for an upstart. Floating lines, dramatic blue shades, and sleek fabrics were all signatures of the original line. Lance was so proud of it.
He was not going to let some new model with an attitude ruin his blossoming career.
Lance walked over to the set to get a lay of the land. The set itself was gorgeous; it harkened back to the underwater setting it represented without being too literal, dark and moody in some shots while light and ethereal in other places. Currently, three models were being photographed; Rolo was on the right, laid back with an open shirt, and on the left was Romelle, her skirt dazzling as she moved it around her legs between shutter clicks.
Butâ
And yes, there was a butâ
The model in the center captivated all the attention. Whoever had given him Lanceâs favorite pieces from the line was cruel. The dark-haired model was wearing a low-cut black top that rippled out into open, wide sleeves. His bottoms were dark blue and black, Lanceâs take on a cross between a skirt and pants. Something that blurred the lines of gender. Even his boots were sexy. Lance wanted to cry.
Then, he saw the problem. Rolo and Romelle were mirroring each other and the energy theyâd been told to capture. They were flowing, soft and gentle, shifting naturally from movement to movement.
The middle man was not at all in sync with them. He was dynamic. He was sharp. He snapped between poses, turning his head in a challenging manner or flexing his hand as if he was missing unseen action. It was not what Lance had asked for.
Fuck, it was better.
âHey,â Lance turned to the photography director on set. âCall cut. Whoâs that guy in the middle?â
âKeith.â
âGet him over here.â
The man nodded. Immediately, Romelle and Rolo gravitated toward one another. The other guy tried to stick to the side, until he was pulled over by an intern.
He strode up to Lance with a raised eyebrow, his hands stuffed in the pockets of Lanceâs outfit. âYou wanted to see me?â
âHi. Lance. Lance McClain.â Lance stuck his hand out for Keith to shake, eyes trailing the low cut of Keithâs shirt for a moment before snapping up awkwardly. Keith didnât seem to notice and shook his hand. His palms were rougher than expected for a model, but Lance found that he didnât mind.
âWhat do you need?â
âIâm the designer of the line,â Lance explained slowly. Understanding dawned on Keithâs face. He hadnât even known who Lance was. âI just heard you were having problems with the other models and, well, I can see why.â Keith seemed to bristle, crossing his arms over his chest (which Lance mourned his view of).
âHm.â
âYou donât match the other models. You arenât even following the directions you were given. Have you done this before?â
Anger ignited in Keithâs eyes, and he sneered up at Lance. âWell, arenât you a nice guy?â
Lance grinned in response, which only seemed to irk Keith more. âYou know what? I donât care. Whatever this angsty rage bullshit attitude is, I like it better on this line than what I originally imagined. You added something here, captured a different part of the story.â Lanceâs grin only widened as Keithâs confusion grew.
âExcuse me?â
âYouâre the new face of the collection. Iâm giving you solo shots. A bigger role. I donât care that you donât work well with that other flouncy, pretty image of this collection. Youâre showing my new angle: the untameable nature of the depths.â Lanceâs eyes were practically sparkling with each word.
Keith still wasnât relaxed, just a little less outright aggressive. He slowly nodded. âFine? I guess I'll do it.â Clearly, he was mostly confused, his gaze darting up and down as if still taking in Lance's sudden appearance.
Lance made a short, quick clap. âGreat. Iâll talk to the directors, get a new spot on the set, and an intern will grab a few more outfits for rotation.â He smirked, doing a quick once over of Keith one last time. âSeems like weâll be working more closely for a few weeks.â
He turned on his heel, not bothering to wait for Keith's reaction.
Something in the way Lance takes care of Keithâs hair thatâs so utterly romantic. He braids it when he's stressed and needs something to fidget with. He washes it when Keith is debilitated by a nightmare, gentle fingers massaging his scalp. He pulls it into a ponytail for Keith when heâs about to start work on his bike and forgot that he needed to have it away from his face. He uses Keith's hair to guide him into a kiss. God, he pretended he hated that mullet, but now itâs become one of his favorite things about Keith, some tangible way of showing him how much he matters.
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Everyone knows Keith is an adrenaline seeker. Heâs the poster child for jumping into a reckless situation, fire at his back and danger at his front, a blazing comet that wonât let anything stop his path.
What people donât realize is that Lance is cut from the same cloth. It wouldnât be a proper rivalry if it wasnât interesting, if Lance couldnât rise to Keithâs raging passion. If Keith is a blaze through the night sky, Lance is a tsunami, a buildup of deep-sea pressure before a volcanic eruption.
Heâs felt this way long before Voltron. When he was a kid, he desperately yearned for the feeling of a plane landing. While most gripped their armrests and sucked in a breath, heâd lean forward into the sensation, the bumpy tug at his heart as he floated for just a moment.
Maybe that was why he wanted to fly so badly.
Heâd first flown on an airplane when he was 12. His mother had seen the starstruck look in his eyes, the way his hand itched as the plane took off. Helpless to stop him sheâd instead directed him to the pilot, who gave him a junior pilot badge. God, Lance had been thrilled.
Voltron hadnât done much to mitigate his desire for danger. If anything, it kept delivering thrills in small doses and then removing them, leaving him chasing something intangible.
Heâd seen the fear flash in his teammateâs eyes when he pulled reckless stunts on those rare occasions heâd erupt. After a particularly dangerous one, Keith had even lectured him in front of the whole team. The irony of that hadnât been lost on Lance. If only Keith knew the easiest way for Lance to chase that gut-swooping, all-consuming, addicting feeling was by chasing Keith himself.
Their push-pull dynamic electrified Lance from the inside out. Sometimes, getting a rise and a challenge out of a Keith was enough to satisfy the fire that tugged at Lanceâs ribs. Occasionally even that wasnât enough for him.
Thatâs how Lance found himself at Keithâs right hand, riding the cometâs tail. In some ways, Keithâs presence started to relax Lanceâs relentless thrum. In others, it only worsened it. But unlike before, when heâd been blindly staggering after an intangible thing, Keith was perfectly solid and real.
Later, when the war ended, Lance was able to bask in their push-pull for what it really was: balance.
Keith kisses Lance like heâs going to lose him, all passion and fear and urgency, until Lance presses a hand to his chest and gently separates them.
âWeâve got all the time in the world,â Lance reminds him softly, words falling from his lips and settling in Keithâs anxious mind. âItâs okay to slow down.â
Keith looks away, embarrassed, but Lance captures his lips again and sets the pace. This time, itâs slow, a tide lapping at a shore, their hands cradling each other. Lance smiles into the kiss. Keith finds he doesnât mind slowing down for once.
Oceans 9-1-1 Rewrite. In which Buck and Eddie have been secretly together for months, and are found out in the worst way possible.
-
Eddie knew his week would be screwed the second the cops stormed into the station and pulled the duffle bags filled with money out of the truck. The way Bobby froze in place and Chimâs jaw fell on the floor told Eddie that they were in big trouble. Immediately, the air tensed and he canceled every plan for the week. Everyone began asking questions no one knew the answers to and they were all frustrated. Bobby called the shift early and sent them all home.Â
More under cut
With the stress of the day and the call itself, Eddie swings his arm over Buckâs shoulder, their quiet signal that Eddie is taking him home. Buck relaxes under his touch and lets his head drop onto Eddieâs shoulder. With a holler and a wave, they pile into Eddieâs pick-up. âThat did not just happen,â Buck mutters as he drops his head on the dashboard and groans. âHow the hell did it even end up there?â Eddie doesnât answer as he shifts the gear to reverse and begins backing out from the driveway.Â
The drive is quiet, Buck staring out the window as Eddie places a comforting hand on Buckâs thigh. In moments like this, after a stressful call, they always go home with each other. It takes more willpower than they have to not rush into each other's arms after a frightening save. So, they go home and spend time together in the privacy of their own homes. Right now, Eddie doesnât want to stop touching Buck. The heat of his presence is enough to ground him in this situation. With a squeeze of his thigh, Buck moves Eddieâs hand to hold his own, squeezing back letting him know heâs right here.Â
Silence is often just what they need after a call, and right now they couldnât be more grateful Chris was at a sleepover. Immediately, Buck chases after Eddieâs touch, tender and searching. Eddie reciprocates, reminding himself that whatever happened today was a mistake, that there is no way any of them are capable of such a plot. Eddieâs fingers find Buckâs hair and he relaxes at the feeling of the blonde locks. âWanna head to bed?â Eddie whispers. Sometimes, they get lost in each other to escape whatever terror awaits them outside. Right now, that monster is the LAPD and a whole lot of paperwork. âYeah,â Bucks answers, âI could use some time with you in bed after today.â It isnât meant to sound crass and Eddie chuckles. With a kiss pressed against his temple, Eddie goes to run a shower while Bucks gets a snack from the kitchen.Â
In the boiling water, Eddie allows his body to decompress. His anxiety washes away with the shampoo running down his face and he takes a deep breath. He scrubs away the day and allows his mind to wander. All he knows is that his coworkers made it out of the bank safe and that Buck is safe. Which is all he is currently concerned with.Â
Stepping out of the shower he doesnât bother getting dressed past his boxers. After the day heâs had, he canât find the energy. He finds Buck at the counter eating some dry cereal and holds his waist as he rests his head on the crook of his shoulder. âWhatâs going through your mind?â Eddie waits as the crease in Buckâs brow deepens. âThereâs no way it could have been one of us. It just doesnât make sense. Hen was unconscious the entire time in the vault, Chim can attest as he was watching the cam. We were with the drills, and so was Bobby. Everyone working is our alibi, so how did it end up in the truck?â Buck rants as Eddie massages his hips. He knows Buck tends to overthink, so with a kiss to the nape of his neck, Eddie says, âYou think too much. We were set up, and that's for the cops to solve, not us. Let's go to bed.âÂ
Buck lets out a soft laugh, âYouâre evilâŚâ Eddie plays innocent, knowing full well that the hands on his hips get Buck feeling a certain way. âNo, maybe Iâm just trying to get you to go to bed with me.â He doesnât need to clarify and Buck happily smiles and turns to face him. Sometimes Eddie forgets he can do this, he can have Buck. That within these four walls, they donât have to put on an act. Eddie doesnât have to be conscious of his every move, notice where his hands are, or even worry about the pet names that slip from his mouth. At home, he can love Buck freely. No wondering eyes or HR rules are stopping him from consuming the man heâs been infatuated with for years. Maybe theyâre more eager since years of yearning finally climaxed a few months ago and now Eddie has the privilege to call Buck his.
Seeing Buck in his bed under his crappy bedroom lighting has soon become Eddieâs favorite sight. So when Buck pulls away from his lips and flashes that smile at him, batting his eyes and pulling his shirt off, Eddie forgets about the call. Instead, he focuses on the man underneath him and chooses to lose himself.Â
As the door gets slammed, the seconds of silence as Detective Wash and Mercer impatiently await an answer seem to stretch till eternity. They had just returned from Athenaâs residency, and while she had been expecting them, she assured them that the others wouldnât. Currently, they are at the home of Edmundo âEddieâ Diaz. Wash and Mercer had just sent two teams to the Han and Buckley residence, hoping to get to the bottom of this heist quickly.Â
In a panicked movement, the door opens, and Edmundo awkwardly sticks his head out the door. Wash notices that he looks disheveled and thatâs fair, it is 1 A.M., and they probably woke him up. Before he can even open his mouth, Mercer presents the search warrant and the team pushes past him and enters the home. âHey! What the hell is going on?â Eddie shouts as Wash turns the lights on and directs officers into various rooms. Mercer barks orders, speaking over and ignoring Eddieâs complaint.Â
âYou canât seriously have enough plausible clause for a warrant?â he shouts. Wash shrugs, âBelieve it or not, the court granted it. Weâre going to need you to turn in all electronic devices on the premises Mr. Diaz.â Itâs the first time Wash truly looks at Eddie and realizes heâs clinging onto a blanket around his torso with his chest bare. Well, it is the middle of the night, heâs caught people in worse situations.
The orders were to be as thorough and quick as possible, regardless of the mess left behind. Wash barks orders to flip every surface and take any electronics they see. Cabinets are pulled open and the clink of plates and cups are heard ringing through the house.
Just as he sees a team go into a hallway, he hears a scream. Ears perk up as every officer drops what they're doing. Wash notices, and he and Mercer dash to the scream, following the noise to a bedroom. Officers follow behind Wash and they enter the open room where other officers are and what they see leaves them surprised. In the bedroom, three officers surround the bed as a man is frantically screaming. âEddie, what the fuck is going on?â Wesh immediately recognizes the man as another one of their suspects: Evan Buckley. He makes a mental note to check on the officers at the Buckley home since they probably got no answer. Once again, the firefighter is frantically covering himself with the bed sheets, and Wesh isnât dense. The flashlights pointed at Buckley illuminate the red on his neck.Â
âThey have a warrant,â is all Eddie says as he picks up some sweats and a hoodie the officers have thrown on the floor. He canât be bothered to care about decency and gets dressed in the room. âTheyâre going to flip the place inside out, and theyâre taking our phones,â Eddie angrily says. Buck is left with a shocked and angry face, but before he can speak Eddie throws him some clothes off the floor. âGet dressed, before they take all our clothes.â Buck laughs, âThey wouldnât.â Heâs met with a stone glare as he looks at Mercer and Wesh. They signal to the officers to keep moving. âYou canât be serious,â he huffs as he frantically puts on a shirt and gets out of bed.Â
âDetective, this canât be real. You donât think anyone in our department did this,â Buck says as he rapidly puts on a shirt and some pants and battles the sheets heâs tangled in. âYour team was the one on the call, with the money in the truck, in the safe the diamonds went missing in. Doesnât seem like an unlikely conclusion does it, Buckley?â Wesh says as he watches the officers pull books off the shelves and flip cushions off the sofa. Cabinets are swung open and Tupperware is thrown all over the floors. Eddie and Buck get the feeling they were told to be as messy as possible. Typical red vs blue behavior.Â
âYou two are coming down to the station with me. We have some questions for you,â Mercer says as she rudely leads the men out of the house and into the squad car. Buck sends a desperate look at Eddie, and he canât fight the instinct to pull him in his arms. So he doesnât, and he holds Buck close in the backseat of the squad car, whispering comforting nothing into his ears. He feels Buckâs head fall onto his shoulder. He looks over to see the blonde blinking slowly, the sirens illuminating his face in a soft haze. Buck looks stressed, and knowing him, heâs probably thinking about the others, not even worried about himself. Eddie runs a hand in his hair and presses a soft kiss to his temple with a whisper, âItâll be okay.âÂ
The station is cold and the lighting is sterile. They are rudely seated and Mercer and Wesh stand menacingly in front of them. Eddie doesnât let go of Buck, holding him as close as possible to his heart. âMr. Diaz, Iâll start with you,â Wesh says as she begins to lead him to an interrogation room. Eddie kisses Buck quickly before following Wesh and sees Mercer take Buck to another room. As he sits at the table, he realizes he should have picked better clothes, the station is freezing.Â
âMr. Diaz, where were you at the time of the heist?â Mercer asks. She wastes no time and Eddie gets the feeling it will be a long night. âWhat have you deemed the time of the heist?â he asks. Eddie isnât willing to give any confusion that could be used against him.Â
âWeâve deemed the diamonds were stolen at around 22:30 P.M. The money, however, could have been at any time.â Eddie sighs, knowing they have no idea what they are talking about. âAt 10, you would have found me giving medical attention to the victims inside the vault.âÂ
âAnd you sure you werenât using that time to steal the diamonds?â âYes, you can ask Hen, she can tell you I was taking her vitals alongside Chimmeny.â
âAnd whoâs to say they wouldn't lie?â Eddie laughs, âThe 118 arenât liars.âÂ
And the air tensed, and Eddie saw a smirk cross her face. âSo you and Mr.Buckley over there arenât lying to them? I mean if youâre willing to lie about a relationship to people youâve, on the record, called your family, who's to say the rest of them aren't capable of lying.âÂ
âMy relationship doesnât concern this,â he seethes. What he and Buck have is between the two, alone. No one bears the right to know of the secret smiles and glances Eddie steals from Buck and cherishes. No one bears the right to know how Buck lights up when Eddie whispers âEvanâ under his breath as he holds him close. No one bears the right to know the special moments Eddie cherishes.
âOh, but it does Mr. Diaz. When youâre willing to lie to your coworkers about something as trivial as a relationship, who's to say you arenât willing to lie to law enforcement?âÂ
As Bucks sits at the table, Wesh sizes him up. Buck feels small and is quietly counting down the seconds till this is over. âSo, would you like to explain why we found you in Mr. Diazâs residence?â The question catches Buck off guard, âHeâs my friend, after last night I didnât want to be alone.â
Wesh sighs and looks hard at Buck, âMr. Buckley, itâs best you not lie to me.â Buck tenses up, âIâm not lying, sir.â With a grunt, Merce asks, âSo who gave you those marks on your neck?â Buck brings his hand up to cover the marks, and Wesh realizes he got him.
âYou two are more than friends and are already lying for each other. How do I know you two didnât plot this whole thing together and lie to your team? Clearly, you both already have experience conspiring together and lying to them. This shouldn't have been too hard for you two.âÂ
Maybe it's a choice of word that enrages Buck that he says, âWhat Eddie and I are doing isnât conspiring. Our relationship is between us.âÂ
âSo you admit you two are in a relationship?â Wesh asks.Â
âYeah, so what?â Buck doesnât see the point of this. Heâs tired, heâs angry, and he misses Eddie.Â
âSo youâre both just lying to your coworkers and your departments as you know that not notifying them is a violation of contract.â
Buck freezes, and realizes he messed up. âWhat does who Iâm dating have to do with the diamonds?âÂ
âShows your character. Youâre willing to lie to your coworkers, whom youâve called family, and your department for something as trivial as a relationship. So lying to law enforcement about stealing $6 million in diamonds with your boyfriend shouldnât be out of the question.âÂ
Rages flashes before Buckâs eyes and he has to remind himself to take a deep breath. âFirst of all, what we have isnât trivial. And second of all, we do plan to tell them, weâre just getting our footing first. Technically, we only need to notify our departments if it gets serious. Which, hopefully, it will but not now. That doesnât prove that weâd be willing to pull something off like this. Keeping a relationship quiet is much different than stealing millions in diamonds.â
âNo, but it shows you two are more than capable. Why wouldnât you want to steal the diamonds? I know a wedding can be expensive, much more if you two plan to buy a home together in L.A. Some diamonds could really help.â Buck flushes at the implication he and Eddie will get married, while also processing how insulting that statement truly is.Â
Just like Wesh, Mercer is drilling into Eddie. âYou have a son, right?â She asks as Eddie clutches his fists. Heâs tired, heâs cold, and he wants to go back to bed. He doesnât dignify her with a verbal response but just nods. âI know how expensive they can be. Especially with chronic illness. Being a parent isnât cheap, much less in L.A. Diamonds wouldnât hurt.âÂ
Eddie is offended she would even insinuate something like that. âListen, I get by. My retirement from the military helps with my bills and my job gives pretty good benefits. I work full-time and make do.âÂ
âAnd Iâd assume having a partner also helps,â she says as if itâs something Eddie should be ashamed of. âYes, it does. He helps when I need it and weâre lucky to never be short. We donât need the diamonds,â Eddie angrily says. He doesnât understand why heâs still sitting here. âWeâre both veterans so our benefits still roll in and the department takes care of its employees.â
âYou say you were both on the drills, opening the vault. Did you know that your Captain left to make a phone call? So, whoâs to say you two didnât take advantage of your moment alone to sneak the diamonds?âÂ
Eddie laughs, âIâm flattered you think Buck and I would take advantage of a moment like that. In reality, we didnât notice and were still working. Had we noticed, then-âÂ
âYou two you would have stolen the diamonds,â Mercer rudely cuts him off. âNo, we probably would have made out. You see, while Iâm flattered, Buck and I arenât sophisticated enough to pull off something like this.â
âAre you calling your partner stupid?âÂ
âIf that proves his innocence then, yes. Yes, Evan Buckley is too stupid for this.âÂ
Buck is so tired heâs struggling to keep his head afloat. âSays here you were in the SEALs.â Thereâs no question, just a statement. Buck looks wearily at Wesh, a sense of nausea coming up his stomach. Buck only nods.
âSo you and your boyfriend are both in the military?âÂ
âWere. Weâre retired. Different branches.â Buck already knows whatâs coming up. âSo two veterans donât know how to pull off a heist? A SEAL no less?âÂ
He huffs and crosses his arms, âSorry, but larceny wasnât exactly what they taught us at basic. Maybe in the Air Force, theyâre the intelligent ones. But not in the Army or Navy. For us, it was more like folding your bed a certain way and shooting to kill. Sorry to disappoint,â Buck says and by that question, heâs done.Â
âLook, if you have nothing of value to ask me, Iâd like to go. Itâs late, and I wish to be with my partner and sleep this horrible night off. Check the cameras again on the side of the bank, youâll notice Eddie and I never left our post at the drill. Once it was open, I reloaded the drill and Eddie was providing medical care. Ask anyone who was there, and look at the cameras, they are our alibi. So if youâre just going to keep and ask me pointless questions while making insulting assumptions about my life, then Iâd like to go,â Buck takes a deep breath as he gets up.Â
âYouâve already insulted my relationship, my career, and my character. I donât know what more you have left,â Buck says as he looks Wesh in the eye, and silently tells the man he is leaving. No debate about it.Â
As he opens the door in the interrogation room, he canât help the snarky remark that comes from his throat, âAnd youâre welcome for all my service.âÂ
The hallway is cold and busy. Several detectives moved bags of evidence that Buck recognizes as Bobbyâs phone and Maddieâs laptop. Heâs irritated and frankly, the level of insult heâs feeling would be dangerous to vocalize. However, it slightly simmers when he finally sees Eddie walk out.Â
He sprints to him and wraps his arms around him. For the sake of holding him close and feeling his body heat, Evan melts into Edmundo. They donât say anything, throats dry from the hour-long interrogations. Instead, Eddie looks into Buckâs eyes and the anger fades away, replaced by a longing. A longing to be safe, to be held, to be home. With a soft kiss to his temple, a phone light illuminates Buckâs face as Eddie dials to call an Uber.Â
âDo you think they went to your sisterâs house?â Buck says as they sit outside the station, watching the few cars drive by. âI hope not,â Eddie answers, grasping at Buckâs hand as they hold each other present. âNo reason to go after anyone outside of the department,â Buck mumbles as he rests his head on Eddieâs shoulder. âYou think they already brought the others in?â Eddie whispers.Â
The sound of a car wakes Buck from his nap. As they pile into the Uber, Buck snuggles into Eddieâs side, wanting to hide away from the world. The drive is quiet, itâs nearing 3 A.M. The cops have finally left their house, leaving the street empty and blissful.Â
Opening the door greets them to the disaster left behind, however the two men are too tired to even care. Awkwardly clearing a path over the books and papers thrown across the floor, they make their way to the bedroom.Â
Bucks the first to hit the bed as he collapses at the mere sight of it. With a quiet beg and a gesture, Eddie follows suit. Cuddling into his warmth, Buck mumbles, âDo you think any of us really did do it?âÂ
Eddie looks at him, pretends to think for a moment, then says, âNo. I donât think so. But, the cops were right,â This catches Buckâs attention. âFor you, Iâd lie to the cops if it meant keeping you safe.â
how can I fear any hurricane? (my life was a storm since I was born)
Evan Buckley has always dealt with big emotions. However, none on the positive scale. Maybe for once something will change.Â
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Evan Buckley could count the number of people heâs felt truly loved by on one hand. His most confident one was easily Maddie, followed by Bobby, Christopher, and Jee. He noticed how half of that list consisted of people without fully developed frontal lobes, and he fears it would be shortened once the children came of age. He was too young to remember Daniel, but he likes to think he would have loved his older brother, however, that isnât enough evidence to be added to the list. So for now, Evan Buckley is loved by four people. He notes how his parents should be on that list. Key word: should. The sinking realization he had when his mother looked at him with such disgust at Maddieâs dinner table quickly removed both of them from his mental list. A thick black line crossed over their names. He tries to not eat off Maddieâs table anymore, the mood sours the food.Â
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Of course, the 118 loves him, however it often feels conditional. When Buck messes up, he feels like a wounded dog being called bad. Sometimes, he feels like he isnât allowed to make mistakes with them. His rationale doesnât allow him to believe that many people could love him, it isnât right. The 118 care for him, they like him, but Buck doesnât think they love him. At least, not in the way his list of four do.
Previous relationships were nothing past the surface for Buck. An attempt was made with Abby, but that resulted in him being left high and dry, forcing himself to stare through glass doors at the airport, watching her walk out of his life with nothing in her heart for him.Â
He was told ânever to cross the glass doors.â He still hasnât.Â
Evan Buckley had since then given up the idea that he was lovable. It was different with children, different with Christopher and Jee. To them, Buck was a superhero. They were too young to carry his baggage, to see the scars littered across his chest and heart, and too young to see him for the broken man he pretends not to be. Buck loves them both, but the fear that one day they will truly see him frightens him.Â
That is what Evan Buckley has told himself. That is what Evan Buckley knows to be true. That is what Evan Buckley believed⌠until Tommy kissed him in his kitchen.Â
âAre you with me?â a voice asks as it snaps him back to the present. In the darkness, illuminated by only a bedside lamp, Tommy lays on his side, hand resting softly against Buckâs cheek, cradling his face. âYou went somewhere, just now.âÂ
âIâm just trying to wrap my head around what you just said,â Buck whispers, words only for him and Tommy to hear. Heâs never felt so warm, so close, so safe. Itâs such a 180 from his previous relationships. Buck equates some of that to the fact that this is his first time with a man, but it goes deeper than that. Right here, with Tommy, feels different than the rest. Heâs always known that. From the moment Tommy first kissed him, Buck knew it would be different.Â
âDid I say it too soon?â Tommy says, and Buck stops thinking to study his face. Chiseled, and strong, with his stubble that pokes the pillow Buck canât help but be mesmerized by him. Was this what it felt like, to be held? Buck wouldnât know, no one had ever wrapped their arms around him and told him he was safe. Heâs been that person for many people, but sometimes a man wants to fall apart.Â
Buck often wants to fall apart.
âDid I ever tell you about my brother?â he asks, avoiding Tommyâs question. âI thought it was just you and Maddie?â Buck shakes his head and breathes as he repositions himself between Tommyâs arms. He doesnât even have to ask as Tommy wraps his biceps around his chest, placing his hands over his heart.Â
âHe died before I could remember him.â Tommy tightens his grip around him, securing him in bed. âI never knew about him till a few years ago. Turns out it was cancer,â he stops. That word, cancer, makes the situation all the more real. Not some blaze of glory death like a lighting strike or meteor ball, but the slow painful thief of life that Buck couldnât stop. He doesnât know why heâs telling Tommy this, he just wants to. Itâs not him looking for pity, or words of comfort. He just wants Tommy to know everything he can about him, because selfishly, Buck wants the same. The good, the bad, the nightmares that haunt him, Buck wants to hold Tommyâs heart and soul in his hands.Â
Not many people know about Daniel, none of his exes do, and maybe thatâs why he wants to tell Tommy. He wants this to be different. He wants it to count.Â
âDo you miss him?â Tommy asks, making Buck think. Can he miss someone he didnât know? Was it possible? He recalls how Bobby often misses God, so it must be. âSometimes. I think so. When I was struck by lightning last year, my coma left me in this weird dream, almost like a parallel universe,â now he canât shut his mouth. Not even Bobby knows about it, but something about the low glow of the lamp and Tommyâs cologne that lingers on the sheets makes Buck want to spill his guts. âIt was all kinds of messed up, but the one thing that brought me joy was seeing my brother. He was all grown up andâŚâ his voice cracks a little.Â
âThis is so stupidâ, he thinks. âTommy does not want to hear about my dead brother right now. I need to stop avoiding the elephant in the roomâ
âDid it make you happy to see him?â Forcing his voice to straighten out, Buck lets out a shaky breath as he looks up at Tommy and sees him actively listening. âYeah, it did. It felt like I had someone who truly loved me. I know it sounds weird, but Iâm not close with my family, aside from Maddie,â âThatâs not weird,â he feels Tommyâs voice get closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of Buckâs neck. God, everything about him consumes Buck. He never wants him to let go.
âIt sounds like you havenât always had it easy,â Tommy says between kisses on Buckâs shoulders and neck. âBut I meant what I said,â the kisses stop and Buck is spun around to face Tommy. âI love you, every part of you,â he pauses and looks at Buck, truly looking at him for a minute before saying, âand whatever baggage you're willing to let me carry for you, I will.â Â
âItâs too muchâ, Buck thinks. However, when in his life is it not? Heâs never had it easy, he doesnât think he ever will. Since he could walk, Buckâs life has been nothing short of a storm. He can barely count the number of people who love him and he has much less wins in his arsenal as well. So maybe, just this once, he shouldn't be afraid. This feeling, this ever-consuming feeling he gets when he hears Tommy speak, will never go away. He doesnât want it to, itâs for once something he wishes to hold. Looking at his eyes, then down to his lips, Buck tries to reciprocate. The kiss is softer than usual, tender in ways unfamiliar to Buck. Unfamiliar but not unwanted.Â
âNo oneâs ever offered that before,â he says. âThen let me be your first and last, because you are something Iâm sure about you,â Tommy says, pressing another kiss to his lips in a manner somehow more gentle than before. Buck wants to cry.Â
Halfway through another kiss, Buck realizes he should probably answer him. âI love you, too.â Maybe itâs not as scary as he thinks. His list grows to five.
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Chigiri misses who Kunigami used to be, however he wonât dismiss who he is now. The muscle freak that returned from the Wild Card that left him speechless, rendered Chigiri frozen and forced him to re-evaluate why the sight wounded him so much. He just wants his hero back.
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They had fallen into an awkward silence. It was late, and Chigiri was getting ready to work on his leg that was cramping up after the match against Bastard MĂźnchen, when he noticed Kunigami was getting a few extra sets in. Chigiri has requested to visit the German stadium to spend more time with Isagi and learn what he could, he hadnât expected to run into Kunigami off the field. They havenât spoken one-on-one since the second selection, but something about the hero has changed. Everyone sensed it the moment he walked through. The Wild Card, Ego called him. There was nothing Wild about him in Chigiriâs eyes, just a hollow shell of someone he knew. If anything, he was more like the Joker in Chigiriâs eyes, because that's what he saw. A joke Renuske Kunigami would have put in his place on the first day.Â
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âKunigami, what happened in the Wild Card round?â Chigiri whispers softly, looking through his locks at Kunigami. Heâs settled on the gym floor, some feets away from Kunigami who is cleaning up. Bachira and Isagi had just gone back to the dining room in their respective stadiums, but Chigiri stayed behind.
âWhy do you want to know? To get ahead? I donât need to tell you shit,â Kunigami barks back, rolling his shoulders as he dabs off the sweat with a towel. The gym is dark, given that itâs late and everyone was told to get some rest before their next match in the Neo Egoist League.Â
The statement is cold and not something the hero would have ever said before. It wounds Chigiri, to think that Kunigami perceives him as some selfish bastard. He can understand it for Barou, Rin, and maybe even Isagi. But himself? Chigiri doesnât think he's that selfish. As the thought crosses his mind, he pauses.Â
No, he is. Itâs Blue Lock, they are all selfish bastards. But Chigiri isnât cruel.
âTo get ahead? Thatâs not who I am, I donât care about that when I ask-â
âYou should,â it's sharp and cutting. By this point, Kunigami has finished getting cleaned in the gym. Whipping down the equipment and completing his stretching, he looks down at Chigiri on the floor with his mat. Before the second selection, Kunigami would offer to help Chigiri, at the minimum sit next to him. They would talk, complain, or just sit in silence. They would exist together.Â
He remains standing above him. Looking down at him, like he was beneath him.Â
âIsagi told me about the Bastard MĂźnchen placement training, how they determined the starters and collected data,â he says, rolling out his calf first. Chigiri is staring at the ground, focusing on making sure the mat does not slip from beneath him. He knows Kunigami is still there. Whatever Ego put him through, surely didnât change that much at least. He hopes.
âTold me you placed 3rd, outperformed one of the starters,â he continued. âIâm asking you again, what happened during the Wild Card round?â Pulling his hair back, he looks up at Kunigami.Â
His face is hardened, his eyes are darkened, and his eye bags have never looked worse. He looks like a corpse of his former self, only evolved in every physical aspect. A fallen angel, Chigiri thinks best describes him. Fallen from grace and had his own nature weaponized against him. He canât really blame him, Blue Lock is a dog-eat-dog world. Kunigami did what he had to do in order to keep his dream in tack.Â
Chigiri just wished his dream didn't have to die in the process. His dream of Kunigami, of the man he was. He looked up to him, truly. Even when he would stay quiet and in his own world, he would always tune in whenever Isagi and Kunigami spoke. The way he maintained himself, conducted his behavior, and believed in fairness. It was admirable, especially in Blue Lock.  Â
With a click of his tongue, Kunigami concludes this entire conversation is beneath him. He gathers his water bottle and begins to head out when he stops in his tracks.Â
âYou completely ghosted me after the second selection. What happened to you?â It's a desperate plea, one he's never heard from Chigiri. The speedster was never the type to beg, so the sorrow in his voice struck something in Kunigami. Turning on his heel, he meets Chigiriâs eyes, and sees the aching in them.Â
Renuske Kunigami has changed. He is not the same man he was when he arrived at Blue Lock. âI did what I had to do in order to survive. Now piss off,â he bites as he turns to leave.Â
âOh fuck off,â Chigiri finally snaps, sick of it. âIâm so tired of your attitude of being above everyone else. Tough shit, you're still here, huh? You donât just get to sit there and ignore me like we werenâtâŚâ The words die on his tongue because what were they? It was something Chigiri never quite figured out. Yes, he knew what he wanted them to be, but your dreams are vastly different from reality. Blue Lock taught him that.Â
âWerenât what?â Kunigami asks, still by the door, gripping onto the frame, but not looking back at Chigiri. That seemed to strike a chord in him, and Chigiri had a shimmer of hope left.Â
âYou know whatâŚâ he sighs, continuing to roll out his leg. This was not the way he wanted the conversation to go, especially not with the cameras he knew were recording. Realistically, this wouldn't be shown, but Chigiri has stopped trying to understand Egoâs methods.Â
âDonât know the fuck youâre talking about,â its quiet and a growl as Kunigami pulls the door open to leave.
âRensuke,â by this point, Chigiri is standing. Giving up on his leg, he looks at Kunigamiâs back, willing him to look back at him. âI told you Iâd be waiting for you, and you still havenât come back.â
âIâm fucking here, ainât I?â Maybe it was the usage of his name, but Kunigami turns around and properly faces Chigiri now. âNo, youâre not. I donât recognize who is in front of me.âÂ
âAre you fucking blind? I donât have time for this shit,â No, no. Chigiri refuses to let this conversation end. Heâs spent so long in despair after seeing Shindou arrive and not Kunigami, he spent so long regretting his actions in the second selection that lead to him getting picked over Kunigami. Heâs been tearing himself apart inside, battling from joy that heâs still standing in Blue Lock, and anguished Kunigami isnât next to him.Â
âIn the back of my mind, I felt like I killed you⌠getting chosen.â
âPiss off, you werenât responsible for my fate. I was weak, pathetic, and naive. I wasnât going to make it in that state. I needed to change.â Thatâs the most Kunigami has said to him since his return. Itâs heartbreaking hearing him speak about himself, and Chigiri wonât stand for it.Â
âI hate who I see in front of me,â he starts. âYes, youâve improved so much physically. Youâre fucking ambidexterious now, wonderful! But Kunigami, you havenât spoken to me since you came back. Iâm so fucking sit of waiting patiently for someone that wonât even arrive at this point! What happened to the hero that was so righteous and fair? You evolved? Killed him?âÂ
He doesnât realize when he walked over to Kunigami nor when he grabbed onto his shirt. He feels his hands shaking as they cling to the fabric, his voice following suit.Â
âFuck, I miss you,â it pains him to admit it, but it hurts so much more to not have Kunigami in his life. âI miss us, Rensuke,â Chigiri begs and maybe it's because itâs late or just the fact that it's Chigiri, does Kunigami turn to face him.Â
Thereâs something shifting in the heroâs eyes, a glint of a light, and then in a moment, Kunigami collapses.
âI canât keep doing this anymoreâŚâ with a sigh, heâs turning to leave. Something Chigiri said must have gotten to him, something must have broken through, and Chigiri has to follow.Â
However, the sudden movement shocks and locks up his leg, dragging him back to the ground.Â
âChigiri! Are you okay?â On instinct, Kunigmai turns back to hold Chigiri. Heâs crouched down next to him and is eyeing his leg with concern.Â
âThere you are,â itâs a breath Chigiri lets out, upon reflex once Rensuke touches his leg. His hands are calloused, more than he recalls. However, theyâre gentle on his leg, tender. Kunigami holds his leg like heâs afraid heâll break it. It should piss off Chigiri, heâs not some damsel in distress, but right now, he lets that feeling disappear.Â
âHi,â it's a soft breath that comes from Chigiriâs breath, and the tenderness of his tone brings a smile to Kunigamiâs face. He releases his legs, and brushes Chigiriâs hair behind his ears. The action was so tender, something he used to do the first few days at Blue Lock. Something that makes Chigiriâs heart swell.
âWhat happened to you?â Chigiri turns his head so itâs in Kunigamiâs hand, holding his face. The facade Kunigami has put up is starting to crack, and the question makes him turn away, but still holds Chigiri. âLook at me, please.âÂ
âYou donât wanna know,â Kunigmai says, but this time any edge to his voice is lost. Itâs a genuine plea, and Chigiri isnât cruel, he knows when to stop pushing. âHere, let me help with your leg. You havenât gone through your stretching, right?â Of course Kunigami would have noticed. The minute Chigiri walked into the gym, Kunigami made a silent note of watching him.Â
Because Resnuke Kunigami hasnât changed. Heâs the same man, but his bark is reactive to the Wild Card. He learned quickly that if heâs cruel and dismissive, similar to Rin, then others will leave him alone. Being an asshole and pushing others away gave him room to breathe after the round. If no one tried to speak to him, no one would try to ask. He didnât want to remember, he didnât want to talk about it, he didnât want to be asked about it.
But that was the thing that initially peaked his interest about Hyoma Chigiri, he was always surprised. From his speed on the field, his regard in his appearance, and his ability to catch Kunigmai off guard, he liked it.Â
He liked Chigiri. Kunigami was man enough to admit that. Heâs missed him, heâs missed talking to him after practice, sharing laughs with him, rolling out his leg, and brushing his hair. Fuck, heâs missed him so much.Â
âWhatâŚwere we?â Chigiri asks, always the bold one. Kunigmai runs his thumbs along his cheek bone, memorizing his face again. Heâs missed holding his face, being close enough to share breaths.Â
âI⌠Iâm not sure. I know what I wanted us to be.,â Kunigami boldly says, hushed as he uses one of his hands to massage Chigiriâs knee. âI know Iâve been a raging dick, but myâŚâÂ
He takes a ragged breath in, and finally meets Chigiriâs eyes. Finally, does Chigiri recognize him. âMy feelings for you havenât changedâŚâÂ
Thereâs a bridge between them, one that used to be a mere step in distance and then turned into a mile. However right now, in the dimming lights of the gym, seated on the floor, in the middle of the night, does Chigiri feel that distance closing in. Heâs aching for Kunigami, every minute he spent thinking he got eliminated was suffocating. He thought that he had lost him before they had gotten time to explore whatever this was. So, once he saw Kunigami walk back through those doors, he vowed he wouldnât let him slip through his fingers again. However, the Kunigami that came back wasnât the same, at least not on the outside. But right now, the Kunigami holding his face like heâs precious, is his Kunigami.Â
âHyoma,â Kunigami just whispers his name, and suddenly both of their lips close the distance between them. Cradling his face, Kunigami runs a finger along Chigiriâs lips, brushing his hair behind his ears. Reflectively, Hyoma clings to Rensuke. He brings his hands up to rest on his shoulders, much wider than he remembered, but firm nonetheless. Rensukeâs hand on Hyomaâs knees makes comforting circles around it, massaging it gently to relieve some of the tension. The action is so kind, that Hyoma cries into the kiss, quickly consumed by Rensukeâs tongue. The hand on his knee travels up to his thigh, providing a grounding squeeze and tracing imaginary shapes.Â
The bridge between them is closed, evident in how they are one on the gym floor. They couldn't care less about the cameras in the facilities, it was the last thing on their mind. Right now, they were killing the space between them. Hyoma was killing the facade Kunigami brought back, and was pulling Rensuke back to the forefront. As the facade crumbled, the kiss became evidence of the man Hyoma knew Rensuke to be: delicate, gentle, and tender. There is no battle for dominance, no roughness or bitting, just a desperate need to connect.Â
At some point, the hand on Hyomaâs thigh makes it up to his waist, and soon he feels his back hit the floor. Itâs not rough, the hand on his face cradles the impact and he allows himself to hold the back of Rensukeâs neck. The hand on his waist continues to trace shapes on it, slipping underneath his shirt. Itâs still so gentle, it makes Hyoma whine. This is the Rensuke he remembers, this is the one he wants. Not the beast that came back, ripped and lacking empathy. No, but the one that is gentle, loving, and holding him on the ground and kissing him with a reverence Hyoma has never experienced.Â
Heâs a gentleman, Hyoma notices. And he tastes like tangerines.Â
âIâm happy youâre back,â he pulls apart to tell Rensuke.Â
âI never left you,â Rensuke tells him, capturing his lips once more.