#tusera

happy birthday, Junhee

17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF // i wrote this on a plane and only mostly remembered the prompt but it’s pretty much there yk

maddie and chimney get married on a sticky hot day in late july.

it requires considerable manoeuvring to find an available venue on a date where all of the 118’s A-shift can be spared to go to a wedding, and half the call centre too. several favours are called in, and more still promised, but it’s worth it for this: maddie, radiant as she walks down the makeshift aisle in her own backyard, jee-yun toddling along in front of her strewing flower petals from a wicker basket. chimney, standing under an arch wreathed with flowers and ivy, his eyes shining with tears at the sight of his soon-to-be wife and daughter.

buck stands across from chimney, ready to do his duty as maddie’s best man, and wonders if it’s possible to burst from secondhand joy. if it’s possible to feel so happy for someone else that your body can’t contain it, that it has to come spilling out somehow.

he turns to look out over the audience, their dearly beloved friends and family. everyone is watching maddie, the same shared joy on all their faces—

everyone except eddie, who’s looking back at buck.

buck catches eddie’s eye and eddie grins, a small, fleeting thing that’s meant for buck alone.

maddie reaches the end of the aisle, finally, and a stray tear slips down chimney’s cheek. they turn to face bobby, who gives them a warm smile before launching into his opening remarks.

the ceremony is short and to the point, but full of beauty all the same. maddie and chimney have written their own vows, and buck finds himself choked up, overwhelmed not only with happiness but with the relief of knowing that maddie gets to have this. that maddie gets a marriage that will be happy, and safe, and a husband who loves her more than she’d ever thought possible. a husband who will have her back through everything.

that maddie gets to be happy.

when the vows are official there is cheering, and then there is dinner, and dancing, and drinking. the evening goes by in a blur of glasses passed from hand to hand and songs that make buck beeline for the dance floor, grabbing the first available person to tug with him.

he dances with maddie, and with jee-yun balanced on top of his feet, and even convinces chimney for a song or two. he dances with hen, and with karen, and with hen and karen, and with just about everyone at the wedding, but somehow eddie never seems to be around for him to commandeer.

so buck does, in his slightly inebriated opinion, the only sensible thing, and goes to seek eddie out.

he finds him leaning against maddie and chimney’s back door, a few feet away from the rest of the celebrations, a wine glass held loosely in his hand. eddie looks up when buck’s footsteps approach, and the corner of his mouth curls into a hint of a smile.

“hey,” buck says, settling against the wall beside him. “hiding from something?”

eddie huffs. “not really,” he says, swishing the wine around in his glass but not taking a sip. “just taking a moment.”

“okay,” buck says. “how much more of a moment do you need?”

eddie raises his eyebrows, shooting him a sideways glance. “depends on what you’re about to say next.”

“you haven’t danced with me,” buck says. “i’ve danced with everyone else, but not you.”

eddie hums.

“you should come dance with me,” buck says, and tries not to let the words feel like anything more than they are.

eddie turns his head, still leaning against the wall. “i should?”

buck takes a step back towards the party and and holds out his hand. “yeah,” he says. “you should.”

eddie takes a moment to glance between buck’s face and his outstretched hand, but then his warm fingers slip into buck’s.

the music changes as they reach the dance floor, softening and slowing down. buck half expects—fears—that eddie will take a step back, that he’ll change his mind, but eddie just stands across from him and settles his hands on buck’s waist.

“i owe you a dance,” eddie says. “never specified what kind.”

buck puts his hands on eddie’s shoulders.

eddie wrinkles his nose. “this feels like a bad middle school dance,” he says, and for a moment buck thinks he’s going to step away again. but instead, eddie steps closer, and closer still, and buck’s arms go from chastely on his shoulders to wrapped around his neck.

“better,” eddie murmurs, from somewhere close to buck’s ear.

buck doesn’t know how long they stay there, swaying gently back and forth. his world narrows to the heat of eddie’s hands on the small of his back, the brush of eddie’s cheek against his, the warmth of eddie’s exhales by the back of his neck.

when they finally part, as if by some unspoken agreement, neither of them goes far. the space between them is measured in inches, or fractions of them, and eddie keeps his eyes fixed on buck’s, and buck thinks—

maybe.

eddie swallows, and buck thinks maybe he hasn’t been imagining the way eddie looks at him.

eddie lifts his hand, and buck holds his breath. he stays as still as possible, his eyes fixed on eddie’s hand, and he thinks maybe—

until eddie tugs at his collar, pulling his tie back into place.

“you were wonky,” eddie says.

“i—” buck starts, but he can’t seem to find any words to finish his sentence.

eddie just smiles. “ready to go home?”

“yeah,” buck breathes, and wonders if eddie means it the same way he does.

when eddie’s hand slips into his, buck thinks maybe he does.

they're the same picture

buck + red rimmed eyes