digitmrspock
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“Eddie, I am definitely not going to date anyone else now,” Buck said, straightening up and frowning.
Eddie could feel himself flush, hating once again that his cheeks always showed his feelings. “I mean, you can,” he stuttered. “This doesn’t change anything—”
“Why do you always say that?” Buck snapped, pulling back. Another tear crested his waterline on the other side and he sniffled and swiped at it furiously with one hand. “That—that nothing will change. I tell you something life-changing and you assure me nothing will change,” Buck said, looking devastated. “I want things to change, Eddie. I want you to want things to change. I want you to want things, period.”
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OR: one year, two funerals, one LAFD gala, and approximately a dozen times Eddie had to sigh and say “Yes, it’s Buck’s.”
Bookmarked by digitmrspock
26 Jan 2026
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Eddie was hoping to avoid this conversation, and he can’t even really begin to fathom how or when he would bring it up. Hey, nice save back there, he imagines, the resounding clap of his hand landing on Buck’s shoulder, echoing off the tall ceiling of the station. By the way, I can hear you touching yourself at night. I can hear you making yourself come a foot away from me.
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Buck and Eddie share a bed during quarantine. It blurs a few lines.Bookmarked by digitmrspock
20 Jan 2026
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“Let me show you. I don’t know— I’ve never— but I want to show you. Please?”
Buck nods his head, his curls flopping over his forehead.
“Anything you want,” he murmurs into Eddie’s mouth like a promise. “Anything.”
- 907 coda. eddie has a panic attack, a sexuality crisis, and the best sex of his life before midnight.
Bookmarked by digitmrspock
19 Jan 2026
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“I’m trying not to make it about me.”
The words seem to stop Eddie in his tracks—but only for a fleeting moment. Then, “Okay, then let me.”
Buck blinks, ignoring the feeling of a single tear fighting past the edge of his lashline. Instantly, he swipes it away. “What?”
“Let me make it about you. Talk to me. I want to know what’s going on with you. I’m not gonna be able to focus on this god awful dinner if I’m worried that you’re alone, and upset, and—”
“I miss you,” Buck confesses, abruptly, because anything else he wants to say right now is too raw, too real.
Eddie exhales into the microphone of his phone. “Yeah. Yeah, I—I know. I miss you, too.”
“No, I miss you. More than I’m supposed to, I think.”
“I’m your best friend, bud,” Eddie tells him. “I think you’re supposed to miss me. We’re eight hundred miles apart.”
Miserably, Buck shakes his head. “Not like this.”
Or: Buck finally unpacks and stumbles across a box Eddie left behind, full of sketchbooks that Buck didn’t know he owned. He’s confronted, suddenly, with the fact that his best friend has been drawing him for years.
Series
- Part 4 of cjo + 911
Bookmarked by digitmrspock
12 Jan 2026
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“Eddie,” Maddie says. “I know our kids are different ages, and our situations are different, but — it kind of sounds like you need something else besides your kid and work, too.”
Well, I used to have a best friend, Eddie thinks, then pushes the thought away. “I … I have other things. But Chris and the job are definitely the most central right now.”
"You know, you can’t put yourself last all the time, Eddie.” She laughs a little. “Straight from my therapist’s mouth to your ears! Ooh — you know what? I’ve got a great idea.”
“Oh?”
“You should come to book club. It’s something I do with my parent friends. We take turns hosting, and it’s my turn!”
Sometimes the best part about reading is getting to learn more about yourself.
Bookmarked by digitmrspock
09 Jan 2026