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Chris remembers, suddenly, the days after his mom died, the feeling of dread that lingered under his skin. The way it slowly bubbled up, over the years, until he couldn’t be this kid anymore, this kid who could look at the world and not see danger in every corner. He wishes that Theo will never be like that. He knows, living with a first responder, that the odds of him turning out any other way are against him.
“Hey, Theo,” he says suddenly, the words spilling from his lips without permission. “Do you think Buck is your dad?”
Christopher isn't sure how he feels about Theo, or what he means for him and Buck. When they're caught up in a disaster alone, he has plenty of time to figure it out.
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Bookmarked by Leothil
05 Jun 2026
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“You were drunk. I know it didn’t mean anything. Everything’s alright.”
Buck visibly winces. “That’s not — Eddie.”
There’s a suspended moment where Buck looks torn, standing on the edge of something, eyes fixed on the horizon to avoid looking at the drop, the precipitous canyon below. But then Buck, who can’t lie, who would tear his own chest open to a complete stranger on the street because the truth of him spills so loudly out of every jagged edge, sighs out:
“It meant something.”
There’s a ringing sound somewhere in the distance, getting closer. “What are you…” Eddie trails off.
“I wasn’t — well, I was drunk. But that wasn’t what. Wasn’t why. Not entirely, or — god.” Buck shudders in a breath, steeling himself. “I have feelings for you.” He closes his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
~
Buck confesses his feelings. Eddie’s straight. If he spends all his time thinking about Buck and looking at Buck and wanting to be around Buck, well, that’s just being a good friend, isn’t it? He’s being so normal about this, actually.
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for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes
Fandoms: 9-1-1 (TV), Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel
21 Apr 2025
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The year by the old calendar is 2025.
Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea.
But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.
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“How come you’re still awake?” Buck asks, antsy. He pulls at a loose thread inside one pocket with pinched fingers, rapidly picking apart the stitching. Better to unravel that than eight years of friendship all because said friend’s shorts have ridden up agonizingly at the thigh.
“I was waiting for you to get back. You’re kind of early, though.” Eddie’s eyes are tracked to the TV, but they dart over at Buck when he asks, “You strike out with Dixie?”
Which… Buck doesn’t even know where to start. He desperately needs to buy a vowel.
“Huh? Why—what—did I miss a text?”
Eddie, sat cross-legged on top of pearly-white cotton sheets, a vision so soft it’s making Buck dizzy, has the audacity to look puzzled. “Not from me. Why?”
or: Eddie leaves a light on for Buck.
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“Bathroom’s free, by the way,” Ryan says, voice too light for the grin it pulls, “if you want to… y’know.”
A normal person would’ve finished the sentence. Shower. But Ryan leaves the sentence hanging just long enough to let implication bloom, as if a shower isn’t the only thing Oliver will get up to in there.
Not that it’s any of Ryan’s business, Oliver thinks haughtily, ten minutes later, fist moving in short and furious strokes under the scalding water.
Or, there's a storm in Nashville, and out of the two of them, Ryan's the only one who had the sense to extend his checkout date.
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Bookmarked by Leothil
01 Apr 2026