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Buck didn’t come to the door; there was no sound of movement inside. He was probably still sleeping. She dug through her purse for the spare key. She could let herself in, tidy the place up and get breakfast started. It’d be nice for Buck to wake up to a home cooked meal and a clean house. Buck had done that for her when she got home from the hospital after Braeburn. He meal prepped a week’s worth of dinners and deep cleaned the entire house and then ended up looking after Jee for the rest of the day so she and Howie could get settled in.
Where had she put that key? It wasn’t on the ring with the rest of them. She must have squirreled it away. If she left it at home she was going to—oh, there it was, tucked into the zippered side pocket, put there for safekeeping. Before she even had time to fit it into the lock, the door swung open to—
“Tommy?” she said, taking a step back.

In which Maddie finally sees her brother.

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If They Have to Carry My Body There

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard
Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard
Additional Tags: post 9.13, Discussions of violence, depictions of ptsd
Summary:

And then there was his house, just as he left it, dark and locked up tight, only now there was someone sitting on his front steps, elbows braced on their knees and head in their hands. Buck squinted; was that—

“Tommy?” he said.

Eddie hit the brakes. The car lurched to a stop. Tommy didn’t look up.

“He hasn’t seen us and he doesn’t know this car,” Eddie said, grip tight on the wheel. “We can keep going. I’ll make up the couch for you.”

Buck mouth was dry and he gripped his knees to keep his hands from shaking. “Don’t take this wrong way, but I’d take my ex over your couch any day.”

In which Buck goes home.

(A post 9.13 fic that is definitely not two weeks late. Don't look at the calendar. Don't worry about it)

Round up of tumblr prompt fills I cleaned up and posted to ao3

Hold Me Tight
In which Tommy and Buck hold each other.
(the cuddle prompt fills)

Don't Worry with Your Suitcase, Dear

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tommy said, big hands sliding under his knees and pulling him down the chair until Buck was practically sitting in his lap, his legs draped over Tommy’s thighs and their chests brushing. All he had to do was lean the slightest bit forward and his face would be pressed into one broad shoulder. “You got good news, didn’t you?”
“You think this means good news?” he demanded, swiping at his eyes. “Maybe I got turned down. Maybe they don’t want me.”
Tommy’s smile was so fond. “You wouldn’t be crying like your heart was breaking if we were staying here.”
In which the Kinard-Buckleys grow beyond LA.

The Maia fills for the cuddle prompts.

Woke Up in a Safe House Singing

Tommy would be pissed that Evan didn’t look at him once during the entire funeral, not even when Bobby's casket was held between them, if not for the fact that Evan didn’t look at anyone. Evan’s face was slack and his gaze empty and no one touched him.

Fuck, Tommy thought with feeling.

In which Buck and Tommy don't go slow.

We Will All Go When We Go

Perhaps it was God’s grace or just simple luck, but he’d been privileged to witness Buck grow into a kind and compassionate man who loved fiercely and without end. It was humbling. All he had ever wanted was for Buck to live and love and be loved in return. But more than that, he wanted Buck to keep growing.
Bobby cupped Buck’s face and said, “I promise.”
In which Bobby goes and Buck has to stay.

And that's the last for 2025. I'll do a round up list later.

Pretend All the Good Things are for You (Pretend All the Good Things are for Me Too)

“Do not send the 118,” Tommy snapped, dragging the Bell out of a tailspin through sheer stubbornness.
“We’re picking up speed,” Swann said.
There was a little he could do. The Bell fought him, but he got her nose up. If they were lucky they would lose a strut. If they were fucked the rotor would go. He was not going to let them get fucked.
“Brace yourself,” Tommy said, and Swann folded into crash position, face pressed to her knees and hands laced over the back of her neck.
The sky opened its fist and the Bell dropped fast and then faster. Tommy kept his eyes on the ground as it rose to meet them. I wonder if it will be friends with me, he thought inanely, and braced for the hit.
“There’s this place that sells uniforms and scrubs,” said Evan, who was not a shy man by nature, but there was an odd tentativeness to the words. “I pass it all the time. I could stop on my way home.”
Tommy was at the back of the hangar, standing under the burned out light. On the roof of the 118, Evan was waiting for him to flirt back.
“Fuck,” he said.
In which Tommy tries again and again and again.

the time loop fic

“Evan,” Tommy said, and Buck jumped; he hadn’t seen Tommy coming. “People are heading back to the 118 for the wake. Do you need a ride?”
Over Tommy’s shoulder, he saw Chimney leaning into Maddie’s side, one hand on her belly and the other touching the ends of her hair; Hen with Karen, Karen’s palm curved around the back of Hen’s skull; Eddie with his phone out and turned away as he talked to Chris; and Ravi with his parents, his mother straightening his tie as his father drew Ravi to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, the same as he probably did when Ravi skinned his knee as a kid. And then there was him.
“I don’t want to go,” Buck said, wincing at how it came out, childish and petulant. He pulled off a glove and dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired.”
“You don’t have to,” Tommy said with a shrug that was trying so hard to be casual. It was worse than the fake mouth static.
“I do,” he said. Eddie had turned their way, eyebrows jumping up at how close he and Tommy were standing. “Don’t I?”
In which there is love and then there is devotion.

[read on ao3]

So, yes, obviously Buck had a new place all lined up before Eddie even left Texas, but he hadn’t thought about where that place actually was until Ravi said, “This is the guy who replaced the water heater for the studios. He’s good.”
Buck wiped his hands on his apron. “By studios you mean the weird performance art space filled with the students in the revolving polycule? Is it even zoned for that?”
“What do you know about zoning?” Ravi shot back, dangling the business card in front of Buck’s face. “What do you know about polycules? I thought Buck 4.0 was a serial monogamist.”
“I know things.” Buck snatched the card away. “This guy any good?”
Ravi rolled his eyes. “No, I’m deliberately recommending someone who’s going to overcharge you.”
“Hey,” Eddie said, and both Buck and Ravi startled, like they hadn’t heard him coming. “Are you having plumbing issues, Buck?”
In which Eddie learns you can't go back to the way things were.

(aka the eddie pov fic)

[read on ao3]

“Buck,” Eddie said, the bottles hanging from one hand and the broom in the other. Buck missed him taking it. “Come play cards with us.”
He glanced into the living room. Pepa was shuffling the cards, showing off all that hard occupational therapy work. He could join them, share a beer with Eddie, let Chris make fun of his shitty poker face, not make it about himself. It’d be just like old times.
“I have to make a call,” he said.
Eddie’s eyebrows pulled in further. “You have to make a call?”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and gave it a waggle. “It’ll just be a couple of minutes. Deal me in when I’m done.”
“You need four people to play,” Eddie said, but Buck was already gone, back door closed behind him and breathing in the night air.
In which conversations are had and Buck goes to see a friend.

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All the cool kids are doing post 8.17 fics so here's mine.

“You thought the guy who blew up his own life because he was scared of being happy was the sensible one?” Hen said.

“Firstly,” Tommy said, hoping that Eddie’s twitching meant he was asphyxiating on the filthy comforter because he was eighty-three percent sure this was all Eddie’s fault, “I did not blow up my life because I was afraid of being happy. I blew it up because I thought being happy might be a trap.”

“That is not as meaningfully different as you think it is,” Hen said, but she was amused; he could hear it in the shape of her vowels. “What’s the second thing, Tweedledee?”

“Ha,” Howie said, keeping the phone turned in Tommy’s direction even as he picked through last night’s detritus. There were an alarming number of taco wrappers.

“Secondly,” Tommy said, “I need you to figure out how to keep Evan from murdering us. Well, mostly Eddie. He’s put too much work into our relationship to actually kill me.” He took a moment to think about it. “Probably.”

In which mistakes were made in Vegas but everything was still coming up Kinard

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