caughtpining



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    Bobby clears his throat, flustered. “Nothing you say will convince me to let you engage in PDA in this firehouse.”

    “But outside of the firehouse is okay?” Buck pitches. “Like, for instance, in the engine?”

    “Absolutely not,” Bobby says sternly. Buck deflates. “Just… find it within yourselves to be professional for the rest of the shift. Please.”

    “It’s okay, Cap,” Eddie says, with a smile equal parts charming and reassuring. “We’ll behave. Right, Buck?”

    “Yeah,” Buck agrees— not because he wants to, but because he’s pretty sure he would do anything Eddie ever told him to. “What’s another 46 hours?”

    Or: Buck, Eddie, and their first shift as a couple.

    (Written for 9-1-1 Gotcha for Gaza.)

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    25 Aug 2025

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    When he looked up, Eddie’s eyes were bright, focused. He was a little flushed, and his shoulders were soft but his jaw was set. “I love you,” he said.
    “I love you, too, man,” Buck said. “But you know what I mean.”
    “I do know,” Eddie said. “Buck, I’m trying to tell you something.”

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    27 Aug 2025

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    “I-I didn’t say time loop,” Buck says. “How’d you know it was a time loop?”

    Eddie laughs, and it’s electric, not the soft, gentle thing that lights up Buck’s insides, but something charged like a trip wire. “You said dreaming about living the same day, that’s a time loop.”

    “No,” Buck says. “I said dreaming something that happens the next day.”

    Eddie groans. “It doesn’t matter. I just knew where you were gonna go with it, and-and yeah, I’ve had weird dreams before. You probably just need a little more sleep – didn’t you say you’d been having trouble?”

    This is not what he needed. Usually, Eddie would ask a few calming, leading questions, and get him somewhere more stable, but this… it’s like Eddie’s ten steps ahead of him and Buck doesn’t know how to catch up.

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    Buck and Eddie get stuck in a time loop eight hundred miles apart.

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    03 Sep 2025

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    “Eddie,” He says again, pulling back to look at Eddie’s eyes, trying to see if he’s there, if he’s doing this for real. “You’re–”

    Concussed. Bleeding. Scaring me.

    “Buck,” Eddie begs, fingernails digging into Buck’s shoulders, eyes wide and imploring. “Thought I wasn’t going to make it. Thought I was going to die before I got to, please–”

    Eddie doesn’t ask. He never asks. He’s asking now.

    OR

    Eddie has a close call at work that ends with both of them bleeding and desperate for each other in more ways than one.

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    03 Sep 2025

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    Eddie lounges on the bed, idly scrolling on his phone, listening to Buck’s off-key singing in the shower. It’s always the same, Buck likes his showers hot enough to scald, coming out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, pink and scrubbed, and Eddie knows tonight will be no different, waiting as the water shuts off and Buck comes into the room, backlit by the bright lights of the en suite, naked and still dripping as Eddie watches and enjoys.

    To the casual observer it might seem like Buck moves aimlessly about the room, flitting from nightstand to chest of drawers to laundry basket but Eddie knows the routine, the steps plotted out in Buck’s head. He’s not complaining about the view he gets either; Buck’s broad shoulders and strong thighs, littered with tattoos chosen by a Buck Eddie didn’t know, the softness of his belly and hips, his strength, right to the core of him. Buck is fastidious with his waxing routine, water still dripping from his hair, running slowly over his collarbones and quickly down his smooth chest. Eddie watches a drop all the way from Buck’s neck to his hip. He wants to chase it with his tongue. He wants to suck the water out of Buck’s hair. Lap at him until he’s damp with Eddie’s spit instead.

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    07 Sep 2025