pzaz
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He sees a family celebrating their little girl’s birthday when he stops for coffee, late in the afternoon. It’s a whole affair, balloons and unicorn blowups and three-tiered cakes, with everyone wearing party hats and streamers strung throughout the tiny coffee shop. It’s clear they’re regulars, even the staff wearing tiny birthday hats.
It’s beautiful.
Buck gets his coffee to go, aching at the bitter pulse of longing. He’s made his peace with the fact that he’s just one of those people who doesn’t celebrate their birthday, but it still stings.
It’s no big deal, though.
His birthday is over. He gets to go back to his life, and pretend that this day never existed.
—the one where buck doesn't celebrate his birthday.
or,
eddie finds out buck never celebrates his birthday, and decides to do something about it. the one where buck's so, so loved.Bookmarked by pzaz
14 Jun 2026
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“Well,” Ravi says, taking a step back from the vic with his hands on his hips. The woman blinks up at him balefully, arm still stuck in the boot on her car tire where she’d tried doing… something to get it off. Ravi grins at her, and then at Buck, and oh no. “Lucky for you, ma’am, we have a professional boot remover right here with us today. Eddie, care to offer any advice?”
Eddie’s head whips up from where he’d been rummaging through the med kit. His brow is furrowed in confusion, giving Buck a desperate three seconds before he processes Ravi’s words. It’s hardly his fault, right? It’s not like it was a secret, and he didn’t expect Ravi to trot it out like a funny and totally not illegal anecdote. Also, he was drunk. Also, at that point he’d kinda been forcing himself to accept the fact that Eddie might never come back to LA. Much less be singled out in front of their coworkers like this. So, surely he’s absolved of all responsibility in sharing this story, even if Eddie, post-three seconds of brain buffering, is glaring a hole in the side of Buck’s head right now.
or, it might be just slightly obvious that buck really, really likes to talk about eddie
Bookmarked by pzaz
14 Jun 2026
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“Thank you.”
Eddie shakes his head, letting go of the glass and reaching out to tuck the edges of the blanket in around Buck’s hips. Something for him to do. If his hands are busy he doesn’t have to think about how he failed him. He’s here. They both are. That’s what matters.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he says, quietly. “Not for this. Never for this.”
--
Buck and Eddie have a moment.
Bookmarked by pzaz
12 Jun 2026
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“What, uh,” Buck says, stopping at the top of the stairs. “What’s going on here?”
Sam steps around the island, grinning, “Hey, man! I made spaghetti to thank everyone for the warm welcome. Want me to make you a plate?”
Warm? Welcome?
For the guy who lied to a room full of bureaucrats who were ready to fire Chimney over it?
A clink of silverware hitting porcelain drags Buck’s confused glare back to the table, as four other sets of silverware follow after it. Like a wind chime of betrayal, ringing the bitter song of the 118’s treachery, their silverware sings with shame.
At least, that’s what it sounds like to Buck.
--
Or, Buck catches Sam cooking for the 118.
Bookmarked by pzaz
12 Jun 2026
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"Out with it, you know I'm impatient. I can't take the anticipation."
"It's just - he asked me about divorce?"
Oh no.
"He did?" Buck's voice is significantly pitchier than it was before.
"Yeah," Eddie shrugs like this is a normal thing for a four-year-old to ask about. "And he said you told him we weren't getting divorced."
Bookmarked by pzaz
09 Jun 2026