#fifi writes

buddie, 2.8k, hurt/comfort, first kiss

Chimney lets out a low whistle, leaning towards Eddie to clap him on the back. "Now that’s what I call a save, G.I. Joe." "Eh, it was nothing." Eddie waves a hand dismissively, even as he throws a grin over his shoulder towards Buck, that gleeful, slightly manic can-you-believe-what-just-happened look they always shared after a particularly crazy call, only - Buck isn’t smiling back. He’s hanging back a little, holding the board in front of him like a shield, knuckles bleached bone-white where his hands are clenched tight around its edges. He looks mad.

NOW HEAR ME OUT. IN AT LONG LAST, MOUSE AND SPOOKS COME FROM A SMALL RURAL TOWN.

It makes sense their home would reflect the place they grew up. Their tables have been thrifted from salvage yards and remade into something new.

The house was a tip when they got it. Mouse and Spooks spent a lot of time getting it right, while also keeping things as traditional as possible.

There’s still hints of them though, the zellij tile fireplace was custom ordered through a local artisan and painstakingly put back together by Spooks. Spooks loved visiting there as a med student with some friends and completely fell in love with the art styles.

Mouse found the original front door to the house in a shed in the garden. You and him trialled different paint samples on parts of the shed when you pulled it down.

Both Spooks and Mouse’s moms redid the garden, installing native and medicinal plants. It’s a bee’s paradise in the spring and summer. The garden is a testament to their love for you both.

There’s a tasteful mix of light and dark wood throughout the home. It’s the perfect mix of cozy, intimate and welcoming.

Mouse loves an exposed brick moment, and the wall behind the fireplace and in the kitchen was his idea.

The home gives off modern, country witch vibes. It’s an escape from the modern world in the absolute best way. Mouse and Spooks love toasting marshmallows on the fire in winter. Its a christmas eve tradition to make s’mores!

The bedroom is quintessential rustic luxury, with thick white carpets on the upper level of the home. While one part of the upper level serves as the master bedroom, the other part is a dedicated office space that gives off library vibes. There’s a smaller fireplace in the office that Hank Voight envies whenever he sees Mouse working from home.

The office also has a hidden mini bar that Ethan has tried multiple times to find, yet he never has. Mouse’s dad, Joe is a master carpenter and literally built it into a bookshelf lined with Spooks’ medical textbooks.

Hidden away in the garage to the side of the property, you’ll find two kayaks. One is blue, the other is green. There’s also two pairs of ice skates in the garage too. Spooks is secretly an incredible figure skater. She won gold for the USA in the Winter Olympics, but she’ll never admit it to anyone. Occasionally she goes to the ice rink and is recognised by an adult who put their child into skating because of her.

Mouse played ice hockey in high school. He made nationals and also qualified for the US olympics team. Same year as Spooks too.

wait wait he told me they like them ee whatevrs one sec

:)

hallo all this is briggsy tha kutlass kratch nice ta meet ya

uh you cant see but im tippin me hat right now

anyways ask me sumthin but be nice or ill gut ya

— — —

// if you are any of the loa crew and you see this no you dont look away LOOK AWAY //

— — —

bobby puts buck in charge of organising it and buck preens at being given the responsibility. meanwhile hen and chim just groan because they know it means the return of clipboard buck

and sure enough on the day buck's walking the length of the firehouse with clipboard in hand going 'sponges? leathers?' and eddie's doing his whole fond smitten 'check!' whilst the others roll their eyes

the event starts and lots of people show up to get their cars washed, chim hen ravi eddie and others doing the washing and polishing whilst buck directs the cars where to go and when to move on to the next station etc. and eddie's polishing a car full of women who are all giggling and fawning over him and just shamelessly flirting and eddie's not flirting back but just. chatting effortlessly with them. as he does. and buck watches, something hot and mean flaring in the pit of his stomach, so whenever a car pulls up with women or even just lone drivers inside he directs to them everyone but eddie, even when eddie's free. and there's a queue forming in front of chim and hen, and eddie waves to him and calls out 'hey buck my lane's open' and buck just plasters on a fake smile and lies through his teeth, all 'that old lady five cars down specifically requested you,' 'i need you to refill the suds buckets', etc.

and later, when it gets a bit quieter, buck's standing watching his team work and his eyes snag on eddie, on the way his shirt is soaked through and plastered against his skin, clinging to every curve and line. the way spray from wayward hoses has washed the gel from eddie's hair and the loose strands of it are falling across his face, just framing his eyes. the way he bends over the hood of a car with a leather in hand to polish the windscreen, his shirt rising as he leans, just enough to show a stretch of skin -

'what are you looking at?'

and buck jumps out of his skin as hen seemingly appears from nowhere next to him, his clipboard clattering to the floor loudly, and his voice is unmistakeably rough and hoarse 'uh, nothing, i was just. uh. supervising.'

and hen says nothing, just raises her eyebrows in that knowing, disbelieving way and walks off as he drops to his knees to pick up the clipboard, his fingers a little clumsy because of the way his heart is racing in his throat like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. but still, he can't fight that urge, that pull to eddie, and when he stands back up he risks looking over and when he finds that eddie is looking back at him, a small knowing smile on his face, buck makes a show of writing something on his clipboard as a way to bury his face behind it to hide the blush he can feel burning across his cheeks.

after the event, everyone's getting cleaned up and buck's counting the money they've raised (which is a lot because maddie was in charge of collecting the donations and she sent jee over to the cars with the donation bucket because who could resist that face). and buck senses someone standing behind him, knows it's eddie by the tread of his footsteps even before eddie even speaks, before he says buck's name softly.

buck turns, and eddie's not showered yet; there are still some suds in his hair and his shirt's sodden, and buck has to cough to clear his throat before he can speak with any semblance of normalcy. 'aren't you going to shower? I think you got more water on you than the cars.'

'funny, I was coming to ask you the same thing,' eddie answers, and there's a teasing spark in his eyes that buck can't figure out.

'me? I'm not wet.'

'Oh, aren't you?' eddie grins, and he grabs buck by his suspenders and pulls him in for a kiss, the surprised oh of buck's mouth quickly melting away as buck kisses him back, hands snaking around eddie's back to push him closer until their bodies are pressed flush against one another, buck not caring about the cold and wet seeping into his own clothes because eddie is kissing him. eddie.

the kiss only ends because chim chucks a leftover bucket of soapy water over them, buck and eddie both spluttering in protest, but neither of them fully break apart from their embrace, eddie's hands still gripping buck's suspenders and buck's in eddie's belt loops.

buddie, 2.6k, angst, 8x15 coda

"Eddie," he whispers; a single word, but still, his voice breaks on the enormity of it, and then he steps in closer and kisses Eddie. It's frantic and desperate, more of a crushing press of the lips than a kiss, but for a moment Eddie gives in to it, gives in to the need to forget about the fucking nightmare they're living in and seek solace in Buck’s arms, gives in to seven years of wanting as he snakes his arms around Buck’s back, pulling their bodies flush together as he deepens the kiss, chasing oblivion until - Until he tastes the unmistakable salt of tears. Eddie hasn’t seen Buck cry all day, but he can taste it nonetheless, taste his grief , and it’s like a shock to the system, piercing through the haze that had settled over his mind at the feel of Buck’s lips against his. He breaks the kiss with a sudden gasp. "No," he whispers, his breathing harsh and ragged, like it’s killing him to say this. Because it is. "Not like this."

‘I love you,’ Eddie says; a declaration, a promise, an indisputable fact of the universe, and he kisses Buck again, I love you, I love you, I love you, and he doesn’t think he can contain it anymore, so much love filling him up that it’s pouring out of him with nowhere to go except into Buck’s arms, Buck’s lips, into the soft, sensitive spot of skin behind his ear that makes Buck shiver and sigh when Eddie presses a kiss there. ‘I think we should tell everyone.’

‘That you love me?’ Buck asks, his smile wide and crooked, ‘Or that I love you?’

‘Both,’ Eddie answers as Buck captures his mouth in another kiss, the word caged between their lips until they slowly draw apart at the muffled sound of Chris’ alarm going off.

Eddie listens to the creak of bedsprings and the opening and closing of drawers as Chris starts to get ready. When he and Buck had elected to keep their relationship a secret at first, that had also meant keeping it a secret from Chris, because no matter how much they both wanted to tell him, they knew it wasn’t fair to ask him to lie on their behalf, so they decided that when they were ready, Chris would be the first to know. And Eddie doesn't think he can hide it any longer, not when Buck is standing in front of him with flour dusting his curls, turning his hair white at the edges, and suddenly Eddie can see it all so clearly: Buck, his hair grey around the temples and smile lines worn a little deeper, dogs running under his feet as he bakes in a kitchen larger than this one but no less homely, photos of Chris and their other children stuck all over the fridge, in a house much too big for just the two of them but that Buck had refused to downsize from because what if the grandkids want to come stay over, Eds, not when the image of it moves through Eddie with enough force to weaken his joints so that he’s a heartbeat away from getting down on one knee right then and there.

‘We’ll tell Chris tomorrow night,’ Eddie announces. ‘It’s Friday, so we can order in pizzas, stay up late watching a movie or something. You know, make a night of it. Then we can tell everyone else later - at Bobby’s barbeque on Saturday, maybe.’

Buck nods, but his hands have started worrying at the stack of folded sheets on the table. ‘You think,’ he starts, voice small, ‘uh, you think Chris will be happy? About us?’

Eddie steps closer and gently tugs Buck’s hands away from the sheets that Eddie’s definitely going to have to iron again later, holding them within the cradle of his own palms, his thumb tracing over the thin, delicate skin of Buck's wrist, right over the pulse points.  ‘Of course he is. He loves you, Buck.’

Something in Buck loosens at the words, and he breathes out a long exhale, as though the pressure that been constricting his chest had finally lifted, and he stumbles forward to drop his forehead against Eddie's, clumsy in his tenderness, but not before Eddie caught the faint shine of tears gathering at the corner of those brilliant blue eyes he so adores.

'Besides,' Eddie continues, 'you’ve practically lived here these past couple of months, and he’s not complained, has he?'

Buck flinches, tries to step apart, but Eddie won't let his hands go, holding him steady and close. 'Uh no, he hasn't,' Buck mumbles, 'I guess I really should go - home. At some point.' His voice cracks and halts around the word home, as though his body is rebelling against the wrongness of ascribing the term to his loft, and it's an affliction that Eddie shares, because Buck’s already home. He’s standing in it right now.

‘Yeah, you should,’ Eddie starts, and just as Buck’s face starts to fall, he adds, ‘so you can pack.’

‘Pack?’ Buck repeats, and there’s something hopeful in his echo, something like love and longing dawning around the edges of a nascent smile.

‘Yeah,' Eddie murmurs into Buck's skin as he presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, right over where happiness is curling it heavenward. 'May as well move in together if we’re making it official.’

Even without looking Eddie can tell Buck's smile is radiant, feels the dimple of it form deep under his lips, feels the warmth of it spread all the way through him as Buck turns his head slightly to kiss him, the bright heat of it pulsing in his heart at the centre of it all. It's not their first kiss, not their most heated or intense, but Eddie thinks this is his favourite one so far, this kiss in his kitchen on a sunny Thursday morning that tastes sweet like the future and all of its promises.

Chris' door starts to creak open, and they break apart slowly, reluctantly, though Eddie doesn't let go of Buck's hands just yet, won't until the last possible second before Chris comes in, because even though they only have to wait just one more day before they can stop hiding, before he can hold and kiss and love Buck as loudly as the racing beat of his heart, he still wants to make the most of every possible moment they can just be, together, never wants to waste a second of it.

‘Is tomorrow too soon to move in?’ Buck whispers, their hands starting to drift apart, skin sliding over skin.

‘Nah,’ Eddie answers easily, ‘tomorrow’s perfect.’ He lets go of Buck's hands.

*

buddie, 12k, angst and feels and fluff, rating: T

‘I’ll say it as many times as you said it to me on that phone call, as many times as you’ve been saying it to me for the past seven years - every time you’ve been there for me, for Chris. Every time you’ve made us breakfast in the morning, or told me to wear a coat because it’s given rain out, or folded my laundry the way you know I like it. Every time you’ve saved me at work. Every time you’ve saved me from myself.’ Eddie’s lips are moving against Buck’s own as he speaks. They’re breathing each other's air, noses brushing together, and Buck can do nothing but stare into Eddie’s eyes, enraptured, and feel the words Eddie is whispering against his lips, into his skin. ‘I’ll say it as many times as it takes you to believe it. I love you, Evan.’

‘You should probably put some ice on your hand.’

‘Remind me which one of us here is the medic?’ Eddie shoots back, but he pulls out an ice pack from the freezer anyway, pressing it against his knuckles where the skin has already started to bruise. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter but there’s nothing casual about it, his body all rigid, straight lines, like a rubber band stretched to breaking point, a breath away from snapping in two. He needs a release, and, well, Buck just wants to help him feel better.

‘Hit me.’

‘What?’ Eddie asks, and he's startled enough that the hard edges of his features softens, just for a moment, until Buck speaks again.

‘Go on,’ Buck needles, throwing his arms open wide in invitation, ‘hit me.’

‘I’m not gonna hit you, Buck,’ Eddie grinds out, but the set of his jaw and the taut, straight line of his shoulders makes it sound like a lie. 

You should. ‘You want to,’ Buck goads, and when he strides forward to crowd into Eddie’s space, he can feel the way the tension is skittering across Eddie’s skin like a livewire, knows he’s the cause of it. ‘You’re pissed at me and you took it out on some poor guy recovering from surgery.’

‘Believe it or not, Buck, not everything is about you,’ Eddie bites, and there’s a tick in his jaw like he’s holding himself back from saying something more, and his eyes, usually so full of warmth, are flinty as he stares Buck down. Buck hates it, even as he thinks good, just one more push.

‘What’s the matter?’ Buck asks, pitching his voice low and lethal as he takes a slow, deliberate half-step forwards so that they’re standing toe-to-toe, close enough that he can feel Eddie’s breath ghosting across his cheek, hot and ragged like it’s been torn from his chest. ‘You afraid you’ll lose?’ Buck raises a finger and prods Eddie in the chest, once, and feels a flash of satisfaction as Eddie’s nostrils flare. ‘Afraid you can’t take me?’

Eddie suddenly straightens as though squaring up, and yes, Buck thinks, as he braces himself for the punch, this is it. But after a beat of charged, expectant silence, Eddie just exhales, less a sigh and more a controlled expulsion of air, and he fixes his gaze somewhere over Buck’s left shoulder. ‘You should leave. We’re not supposed to be talking to each other, remember?’

‘You called me.’

Eddie’s eyes snap back to Buck.‘Yeah, well, you weren’t my first choice. You were my last resort.’

Buck flinches as though Eddie had struck him, the words stinging more than any blows ever could, but he reminds himself that this is what he wanted, for Eddie to take out all his anger on the right target. ‘Hit me,’ he begs. Hurt me. I deserve it.