Ramblings of an Aspiring...Something.

But I also need to finish my 9-1-1 RPG site on Jcink.

And I also need to finish my relaunch of Paradise Cove.

And I also need to finish my other 2900 sites that I have created (my paranormal Salem, Mass. one, my Grey's one, my Disney one with my friend).

I really need to update my fics.

Buck didn't speak to Eddie the entire 3 and a half hours they were in the air.

He didn't speak for the entire 20 minutes Uber ride to their hotel, nor through the check-in process.

When Eddie asked as they entered the double queen room on the third floor of their hotel which bed he preferred, he gave a noncommittal shrug before depositing his duffel bag that Eddie had packed in secret onto the one closest to the ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked downtown Saint Paul, before disappearing onto the balcony of the room and letting it shut behind him with a cold snap.

Okay, Eddie could take a hint.

He unpacked his own bag, placing his wallet, the room key, and phone charger on the top of the dresser in front of his own bed, shooting a quick text to Christopher they had landed safely, and also putting an update in the group chat that had appeared with majority of their 118 family, letting them know they were getting settled and to update that Buck's silent treatment was still in full swing.

After stuffing his empty bag near beside his dresser, he paused and glanced out the window to the shadowed figured sitting on the balcony, hood up of his sweatshirt, and only the slightest light that came from his phone given any indication that there was life out there.

He stepped closer to the window, seeing the faintest glow of Maddie's name on the screen. Eddie let out a sigh of relief, knowing that at least Buck was speaking to somebody about this impromptu trip, and turned back to his discarded bag, and decided to unpack it, having spent so many moments with Buck to know exactly how he prefers certain garments next to each other, how socks always were supposed to be on the right side of the drawer if having to share space with underwear. How casual clothes went in the middle and pajamas and casual wear went on the bottom.

He was stuffing the empty bag alongside his when the sliding door to the balcony opened up, a gust of cool air following Buck in. It was significantly cooler here than it was in LA, and Eddie was glad he had the hindsight to pack both of their LAFD jackets that morning. He had a feeling they were going to need them in the morning.

Eddie set on the edge of his queen bed as Buck slid the door shut and turned towards him. Buck's face was flushed red, most likely from the cold air, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. That was probably as a result of the phone call he had just finished with his sister. He looked at his now-empty bed, and over to where his charger and heating pad for his leg lay already unpacked, and back to Eddie, who was looking down at his watch as he unfastened it.

"You didn't have to unpack for me," he finally croaked out.

Eddie gave a similar shrug that he had received when they first entered their hotel room, though with less malice than Buck's had carried. "Thought I would make it somewhat easy on you."

"I didn't deserve it. Not…not after how I've treated you today."

"Well, you were kinda shanghaied into this. So you're forgiven."

---

How do you think the fandom would react to Jonah (the psycho paramedic from S5) and Frankie (the serial bomber from S2) teaming up in prison, and either breaking out/or having accomplises to ending the 118 once and for all?

"You sure you're doing okay?"

"Yes, Eddie."

There's a pause and the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board as Buck continues to chop veggies.

Then -

"Buck, you know I'm just worried about you, right? I don't mean to make you feel smothered or anything."

"I know."

There's more silence between the two; Buck continues to chop up various veggies for the stir-fry he's making for dinner, and Eddie bustles around him, pulling plates and pans, whatever else is needed, despite Buck not asking for them, the pair always in sync.

"Do you have anything you want to talk about?"

"No, Eddie," Buck says through gritted teeth, pushing the knife against the cutting board a little harder than usually, the thud echoing through the space. "I said I was fine."

"You just don't seem it," Eddie presses. "Ever since we got back from Minnesota, I thought we were doing good."

"Eddie." Buck stops from his mutilating of the vegetables in front of him and looks up at the brunette standing across from him on the other side of the island. "Just because you've became a master of therapy with Frank doesn't automatically make you a therapist! I'm fine."

Eddie stares back at him and scoffs, shaking his head as Buck goes back to cutting, the knife making a more profound thud with each slice.

"I just want you know you have somebody you can talk to, Evan," he muttered. "Didn't expect that to be such a crime with you."

There was a loud crashing sound as Buck smacked the cutting board with the knife, pieces of green and red peppers scattering the floor as he let go of the sharp object.

Everything had been going fine.

They had had a great time in Nashville. They tied with the home cities' firehouse in the Games, got to go on some calls with Nashville FD - albeit Buck about got their asses handed to them a couple of times because he was a brat - they made new friends (he was pretty sure Buck was already following Blue's pinterest account just for his recipes folder), and Eddie thought the entire week had been beneficial not only to them in a professional cense, but had been a good reset for their marriage. It wasn't often the pair of them go to go on any trips because of their schedules, and with Chris now officially in high school and constantly being on the go between friends and clubs and whatever new thing he decided to get into, they just simply didn't have time.

To have an entire week leading up to the event to unwind, and explore a new city had been fun…amongst other things. Hell, he wanted to plan a trip to return to Nashville and bring Chris or even their 118 family, at least to meet the 113's fire crew. He and Buck had even discussed it during their impromptu road trip.

And then they decided to jump off the I-10 after trying to avoid another crash, gotten lost, and it had gone downhill from there.

He knew the minute they had sat down in that diner something was off. It was obvious from the stares and judgemental comments that this town wasn't too friendly when it came to out of towners. And sure, maybe he had been the tiniest bit of hangry, and they could have kept their usual husband bickering down a couple of decibels. And okay, maybe he could have kept his anger in cheek to those assholes calling them slurs. Ever since he had came out three years before, he'd gotten use to them, he let them roll off his shoulder, but when directed at his husband?

Nope, street fighter Eddie was rearing to make an appearance.

They had gotten back into their rental car, and after an awkward moment of I'm sorries and kisses to clasped hands promising to make the most of the remainder of their trip, it had started to feel like a normal road trip again as they followed the waitresses directions down Route 280 back to the interstate.

"What the hell?" he muttered, glancing through his side mirror at the rapidly approaching truck. "These idiots come from?"

The truck's ungodly amount of lights on top of it's frame and hood flashed bright the moment Buck turned around, and even Eddie flinched as they reflected back on him through both his side and rear-view mirrors. He gripped the wheel tighter to keep control of the vehicle as they recklessly swerved behind them before finally speeding past them, engine revving like they were on a race track.

"Very cool. Nice," Buck called sarcastically, thrusting his middle finger out the window and into the air.

"Real tough," Eddie countered, getting ready to finally loosen his grip on the wheel when the truck ahead of them slammed on their breaks and see-sawed both lanes. Eddie also slammed on the breaks, Buck holding onto the handle on the passenger side, pointing to the ditch and Eddie narrowly missing the truck.

"Hang on," he yelled, barely missing a lone tree as he veered off the road, leaving a trail of dirt and dust as he maneuvered back onto the highway. The car fishtailed slightly as the tires went from dirt to asphalt, and he watched in the rear view mirror as the truck started to gain on them once more.

"Uh, should I call 9-1-1?" Buck asked, trying to get his phone to unlock.

"Obviously, honey!" Eddie shouted, a little more panicked than he should have, accelerating as much as he could as the truck continued to gain on them.

But before Buck was even able to get the number dialed into his phone, the truck lunged forward, connecting with the bumper of their car. The car fishtailed again as the truck made one final push into them. He remembered cursing out loud and Buck calling out his name as the car hit the mound of dirt, sending them airborne into the night before the car landed on it's top.

And then…silence.

--------

"Excuse me," Athena's voice finally broke through the silence, and Eddie shivered at how icy her tone was. "What is the name of this Sherrif, Eddie?"

If Woodson was surprised to hear somebody speak through the phone, he didn't show it. "Sherriff Woodson, ma'am," he said. "And you are?"

"The mother of the young man you are blantantly disregarding as missing," she replied. "Now, what is your team doing exactly in trying to find him?"

"I'm sniffing every inch between that diner and the MVC," he said, carrying the same dismissive tone with Athena. "But it's big country and I only got so many dogs."

"Then call. for. backup."

"You called me," the officer shot back. "Are you my backup?"

"Do I need to be?"

Oh, man, Eddie longed to be a fly on the wall if this man ever met Athena Grant face-to-face.

"Because you should also be looking for three persons of interest."

"I already spoke to those three persons of interest," Woodson said, reaching over and taking Eddie's phone before he could react. "Their stories checked out. Right now, I'm looking at one guy." He looked at Eddie and gave a smirk. "Mid 30s, we put him on the scene. No alibi, plus an angry steak."

"Sir," Athena's voice came out like she too was trying to control her emotions. "Eddie Diaz is no killer. Especially his own damn husband."

"He's a combat veteran." Eddie's head whipped up. This guy did a background check on him? "You think he never pulled a trigger?"

Eddie was not going to punch a sherrif. He wasn't…not yet.

"You don't know a thing about that man," Athena ground out, and he felt a sense of pride in being defended by somebody that wasn't his son or husband like usual.

"That's correct, ma'am," he snarked. "I only know the 860 people who call Los Nietos home. I got to lot to learn about your friend Edmundo."

"It's Eddie," he snapped. "And you're not going to learn another damn thing about me."

Woodson and Torros looked at each other in a brief moment of confusion.

"Meaning?" Torros asked.

"Meaning, I'm not saying another thing until my attorney is present," Eddie said. "And seeing as he's 10 hours away in Los Angeles, you'll be waiting a while."

"You sound like your the king or something out there," Athena said, her professionalism starting to wane, "and maybe you are, every other day of the year, but today? You're going to go and do your damn job."

Woodson scoffed. "Yeah, right after lunch," he replied before ending the call and tossing the phone back to Eddie. "Rest assured, Mr. Diaz, we'll follow up on any promising leads to your…friend. Deputy Torros will be right outside if you need anything."

The dismissal was obvious as Woodson stood from the chair and made his way back out the swinging doors. Torros lingered behind momentarily, giving him a look of obvious suspicion before also exiting the room.

There was soft buzzing that came from his phone and Eddie quickly answered the call, taking in Athena's name that flashed on the screen before he pressed the device to his ear. "Athena, you know I would never-"

"I know, baby," she assured. "We're going to figure this out and get our boy back."

"Okay," he said. "So what how do we get the sherriff to stop looking at me, and start looking for Buck?"

"I'm going to walk you exactly through what you need to do."

"I already know what you're about to say, 'Thena," he said. "Don't rush in, don't do anything suspisious."

"Actually, I was going to ask you if there is a window, because I think you need to go out of it."

Okay, who was this person and what had they done with Athena Grant?"

"Uh, you serious?" he asked.

There was a ruffle over the speaker and Bobby's voice came back over since Eddie had explained what was going on.

How in the absolute HELL did Eddie's phone survive a rollover crash and be an iPhone with absolutely ZERO cracks in it?

Because the rest of the chapter is giving me a fit from hell and I need to feel like I'm accomplishing something, dammit.

*~*~*

The apartment was still dark when Bobby woke up.

Which, that’s not unusual. After years of firefighting, sleep comes in short stretches more often than most, needing to be ready to get up and go at the instant of an emergency tone. He doesn’t both check the clock and see what time it is; he can tell by the dimness of light that’s barely peaking through the blinds that it’s early. Hell, too early for the city to even wake up, but early enough.

Knowing that sleep is not going to come back to him any time soon, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, wincing out the way his back and other joints crack and pop like a glow stick coming to life. Standing, he threw on the thin plaid robe he had tossed over the bedroom knob, toeing the slippers he had on and shuffled out to the kitchen.

Bobby moved quietly through the space, reaching for the old coffeemaker perched beside the sink. As he filled it with water and scooped in the grounds, his gaze drifted toward the fridge, where a faded calendar magnet held up a grocery list. The date caught his eye—June 26th.

Evan’s birthday.

He paused for a moment, then smiled to himself. A birthday deserved something special, even at this time. And from what he seemed to gather from the short time of knowing the kid, he was sure that birthdays were something that didn’t quite meet his expectations.

He set a pan on the stove, determined to whip up a breakfast that would start Evan’s day off right.

Seventeen felt…bigger…than it normally would. Not a milestone, not really, at least not by America’s standards. At least not in the way that eighteen held weight. But it was close enough. At least for Evan’s situation. He debated on saying anything at all. Letting the day pass like any other or waiting to see if Evan would even mention it. He shook his head at that – if he had learned anything so far, Evan would rather become a deaf mute than willingly bring up something about himself.

Everyone deserved to have their birthday acknowledged, even if it was just as small as a breakfast.

He softly shut the cabinets as he moved around carefully, trying not to make unnecessary noise to wake the teenager before he was ready. He pulled pans, bowls, flour, eggs, sugar, and syrup, everything to make pancakes the same way his dad used to make him when he was younger, way before he was old enough to understand the own turmoil that he grew up with.

He whisked enough eggs and let them spread in the lightly greased pan before moving to measuring out the ingredients for his pancakes, pausing ever soft often to scape the eggs from side to side until they were perfectly scrambled and plated them, placing the dish on the table before starting on his pancakes.

He had just finished off plating the last perfectly golden-brown pancake when there was a soft shuffle of footsteps down the hallway. Bobby didn’t turn around right away, not wanting to scare the kid before he had fully woke up. He turned off the stove eye he’d been cooking on and placed the pan in the sink with the other dirty dishes before turning around.

Evan was staring at the table of food as though trying to figure out if he was real or not. His t-shirt was crinkled, curls frizzled on top of his head, and eyes still full of sleep. He looked more like he was seven, not turning seventeen. He looked less guarded, and more like a teenager for the first time since he’d been staying with Bobby.

“Happy Birthday, kid,” Bobby greeted in lieu of a good morning.

Evan stilled at the sentiment, his eyes widening as he seemed to wake up further.

“You…made all this for me?” he asked in awe.

For a second, Bobby’s chest tightened with something heavy. It shouldn’t be this unusual for a kid to get a hot breakfast on his birthday, he thought, but he could see in Evan’s eyes that it was. He forced a warmer smile, pushing aside the ache. “You know,” he said, grabbing a plate and handing it to Evan, “every kid deserves a special breakfast on his birthday. That’s just how it’s supposed to be.”

(because Easter is tomorrow, I'm sharing this little one-shot I wrote 3 years ago)

*~*~*

“I can’t believe we’re out here at the break of dawn hiding eggs .” 

“Suck it up, Buckley, and hand me that other basket.” 

Buck grumbled under his breath, but didn’t dare retort to his pseudo-sister’s remark, doing as she said and handing her the second basket of Easter eggs. When Bobby and Athena had arranged their annual Easter cookout, May had the bright idea to host an egg hunt for the kids. And who better to be recruited than the largest kid of them all. 

Buck had stayed at the Grant-Nash house overnight, as he had been doing since the lightning strike. Sometimes it was to keep the loneliness from taking over his mind, sometimes it was just to make sure that Bobby was still alive and well and Buck could see it for himself, not rely on a text. A couple of months after the incident at the top of the ladder truck, Buck still had nightmares. They were starting to get better with the help of therapy and talking with Eddie (who at this point could be a damn therapist himself). 

Still, when he decided to spend the night at Bobby and Athena’s last night, getting up at 5 in the morning wasn’t something he had agreed on.

“You could have at least brought coffee,” Buck grumbled, placing some of the eggs lower so his favorite niece would be able to find them. 

“I asked you if you wanted coffee,” May retorted. “It’s not my fault you read the message and didn’t reply.” 

“You text me at 5 in the morning! Did you expect me to be bright eyed and bushy tailed?” He cringed at his choice of words. “No pun, of course.” 

May stopped and glanced over at him with a weird expression. “Is that a Pennsylvania thing or something? What’s that even mean?” 

“It means you're awake and alert, which I’m currently not.”

“You’re a firefighter, Buck, isn’t that something that’s basically in your DNA?” 

“Not on my weekend off, it's not,” he grumbled. 

“Help me finish these two baskets, and I’ll go get you Starbucks,” May replied, shaking her head. “I swear, maybe I should go get you an Easter basket, and you can search eggs with the kids.” 

“Are you calling me immature, self-proclaimed sister of mine?” 

“I mean, if the shoe fits.” 

Buck threw one of the plastic eggs at her. “Brat.” 

“You’re just jealous Mom and Bobby love me more.”

“They like to let you believe that, but let’s be honest, Maddie and I come in a package, so in some weird way, I brought them amgrandchild.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think Mom is ready to be called ‘Grammy’ anytime soon from me or you,” May replied. “Though if you count Christopher…” 

“Just because Eddie appointed me to be Chris’s guardian if something happened to him, doesn’t make him my son,” Buck replied. 

May scoffed. “Are you kidding me right now? How many times have you been mistaken for Chris’s dad? You do everything with Eddie and are basically coparenting his kid.” 

Buck was thankful that the sun was just now coming up, and the shadows of the backyard hid the blush that was creeping up his neck. 

“How did we get on this subject?” Buck asked, dumping the remainder of the eggs in his basket around the bushes in the corner. “There, the last basket is done. I believe you said something about Starbucks?”

“Why are you wanting to change the subject, oh big brother of mine?” May asked back, tossing the last of her eggs around the yard and looking over at Buck with an amused expression. 

“No reason,” Buck replied too quickly. 

“Mmhmm.” May gathered all of the baskets and placed them on the patio by the door. “Come on, go get dressed. I’ll leave a note for Mom and Bobby, so they don’t think their precious baby boy disappeared on them.” 

“Ah, so you admit they would be worried if they thought something happened to me,” Buck said with a grin. “See, I am the favorite.” 

“Shut up, Buckley, and get ready before I change my mind.” 

*~*~*

Try to sit down and wright after disassociating from work with my headphones in? Oh look at this funny clip that I TRIED TO FUCKING SHOW YOU LAST NIGHT.

Try to sit outside in my hammock swing on the front porch and just listen to music? Oh watch this funny interview on something nostalgic.

And listen. Listen. I love it. I love that he wants to show me things.

BUT.

HE.

ONLY.

DOES.

IT.

WHEN.

I'M.

FEELING.

PRODUCTIVE.

And then it distracts me and I've lost my groove.

Imma start being like Kuzco.

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Maddie Buckley, Athena Grant, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson Additional Tags: Evan "Buck" Buckley Whump, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s09e13 Mother's Boy (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug, POV Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Eddie Diaz Takes Care of Evan "Buck" Buckley, Maddie Buckley Acting as Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parental Figure, Athena Grant is Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parent, Mentioned Bobby Nash, probably will add more tags when it's not 3am, coffee crash incoming Summary:

“I’m still your best friend, Eds,” he says. “I’m fine.”

Eddie steps closer, lowering his voice so it doesn’t carry beyond them.

“No,” he says, brown eyes meeting blue. “You’re not.”

There’s a long beat that stretches between them. The airport continues to hum around them, but it feels distant, like it’s happening all around them and leaving their own bubble out of the chaos. Eddie watches as Buck’s eyes flicker between the three of them, the three truths that he couldn’t ignore. All standing firm, refusing to let him walk away.

His chest rises and falls with a slow, controlled breath. Buck stares at Eddie, really looking at him for the first time in Eddie didn’t even know how long. Eyes full of hurt, betrayal, but underneath all of it, fear.

“…I hate you,” Buck says roughly.

Eddie nods once, accepting it without hesitation.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

POST 9x13 "Mother's Boy."

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson/Karen Wilson, May Grant/Ravi Panikkar Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bobby Nash, Athena Grant, Maddie Buckley, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Karen Wilson, May Grant (9-1-1 TV), Harry Grant (9-1-1 TV), Ravi Panikkar Additional Tags: Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Substance Abuse, Rehabilitation, Past Drug Addiction, Recovery, Relapse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Also kinda canon compliant?, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Married Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parents, Bobby Nash Lives, Protective Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV), Post-Episode: s09e13 Mother's Boy (9-1-1 TV), Speculation for 9-1-1 (TV) Season 9, ah shit here we go again, Sequel, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has Chronic Pain, Protective Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, I can't think of anymore tags, i'm sure they'll be added, no beta we die like they expect us to believe Bobby did Series: Part 3 of Recovery Summary:

“So, when do you and Eddie take off to Nashville?” “Next Thursday, right after shift. I think we over head Chimney and Hen talking about some send off.” “Ah, I see nobody can keep a secret at the 118 still,” Bobby muttered as Buck waved off the other stragglers from the meeting as he started towards the door. “Oh, were we…not…supposed to know about that?” Buck asks. “Just…pretend to be shocked when ‘Thena and I show up to the station before you two leave.”

___________

Sequel to the Every Moment I'm Awake.

Three years after the lightning strike, after Evan Buckley almost lost himself to his mental health and addiction, his life has gotten better - he's married to his best friend, has adopted Christopher, and despite the close call at the government lab, he still has the closest thing to a father in his life.

All that changes when he and Eddie experience the road trip from hell returning from the Firefigher Games in Nashville.

Me: "....."

H: "What if this season ends on a cliffhanger?:

M: "do NOT put that out in the universe!"

H: "What if Buck hides this pill thing for the rest of the season and it ends with Eddie finding Buck overdosed or something?"

WHAT IF EDDIE CALLS MADDIE TO JUST ASK ABOUT SOMETHING.

AND MADDIE IS LIKE BTW HOW IS MY BROTHER I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM HIM.

AND EDDIE IS LIKE ???????? HE SAID HE CANCELLED THERAPY BC HE HAD DINNER WITH YOU???

AND MADDIE IS LIKE UM NO HE CANCELLED DINNER WITH ME FOR THERAPY OR SOME OTHER EXCUSE