tokyodates
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Eddie brushes his messy curls back with a carefree hand. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” Buck says with a shake of his head. “Just looking.”
“I don’t think my morning face is that interesting at six a.m, Buck,” Eddie says around a laugh. Twirls one of Buck’s curls around his finger.
And Buck, a natural flirt, but more natural at making Eddie laugh, lets his voice drop down a few tones and says in the cheesiest, sultriest way, “Just admirin’ the view, honey.”
A soft morning at Buck’s house.
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“You don’t let anyone help you, ever! And right now—right now there’s a serial killer looking for us!!”
“He’s not a serial killer—”
“He has a fucking chainsaw!!!!” Buck says exasperatedly, shaking his arms at Eddie like he’s going insane himself. “That’s covered in blood and there’s a fucking dead body in the laundry room you have got to be kidding me!!”
“Well if he’s a serial killer would you stop screaming so he can’t find us,” Eddie whisper-yells, going red in the face.
or: if 9x13 actually went serial-killer
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Tessa schools her face, straightens up and says, “Edmundo,” in that defiant, provoking sixteen year old way that makes Eddie grind his teeth.
“Teresa,” Eddie says back. Tranquility paints his tone, his features. No hook and line. “You’re grounded for a month. Buck, let’s go.”
“What?!” Tessa squeaks out, arms crossing and uncrossing, walking when Buck slightly pushes her forward. “A month?! You can’t just ground me for a month, you never grounded Christopher for that long!”
“He did,” Buck murmurs.
“Plenty of times,” Eddie adds.
Eddie turns 50.
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Buck thinks she could live here—between Eddie’s legs.
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“I napped for, like, thirty minutes,” Eddie says around a mouthful. Buck nods at the same time there’s a slurping noise. “Then Little Miss Buckley here decided sleeping is for fools and started doing somersaults against my stomach.”
Buck smiles at the nickname, sucking the lime juice off his thumb before grabbing another lime to cut. He looks at Eddie, his tired face but still glowing, eyes sparkly as his other hand makes its way down to the barely there bump that is their daughter.
“That means our baby’s going to be a gymnast,” Buck says fondly. “You should show more support for her hobbies, Eddie. She’s going to be an Olympic medalist.”
“Olympic medalist of making me pee myself, surely,” Eddie grumbles. In response, another wave of nausea hits, making Eddie sway visibly.
Buck hands him a lime slice without a word. Eddie shoves it in his mouth. They sit in companionable silence for a bit, then: “D’you think I have boobs?”
for day two of preg eddie week: side effects / lactation
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Running to the frontlines from a childhood he never had. Taking a bat to the wall with his son in the next room. Having an affair with the spitting image of his dead wife.
Eddie knows he’s never been good at grieving, knows he’s never been good at losing what little he allows for himself in the first place. This is why he also knows his coping mechanisms can’t possibly get any worse.
Buck, as he so often does, makes him reevaluate his assumptions.
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Evan Buckley dies behind a wall of glass. It’s a shame that when he’s revived not three minutes later, no one is informed.- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by tokyodates
03 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
my god. was this fic not a ride. was this fic not just a perfectly fledged out movie in my head. was this not a little lifechanging. tim minear wishes, man.
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Romance is a lot easier to write about than it is to put into practice, and Eddie is the world’s most ridiculous living example of that. He can practically hear the kind of jokes that Shannon would make about it, if he ever told her about the books but - he didn’t. And somehow, probably just because he didn’t start writing until after they weren’t living together anymore, she never found out.
There’s actually only a handful of people in the world who know that Eddie is a writer - and more specifically, that he’s E. Diaz, one of the bestselling romance authors on the market.
or - the one where everything in canon is the same, except eddie diaz is secretly a bestselling romance author, and nobody knows. Yet.
- Language:
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by tokyodates
28 May 2026
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“I heard you two were expanding your family! Another little one at Durand. We were so excited when we saw the enrollment paperwork.” She clasps her hands together. “Theo is an absolute joy. Let me show you what he’s been working on.”
Expanding your family.
Buck opens his mouth to redirect — it's a reflex, the correction sitting right there on his tongue. This isn’t the first time they’ve been mistaken for more than two totally platonic best friends who are both men and also raising children together.
It’s right there, polite and practiced: Oh, we’re not actually—
But suddenly Eddie’s hand is on his back. Not his shoulder this time, but lower. A few inches lower than two totally platonic best friends who are both men and also raising children together would justify.
Eddie’s palm presses flat against the base of Buck’s spine, fingers spread wide like he’s anchoring them both to the same spot.
“Thank you so much,” Eddie says. “We’re really proud of him.”
Or: The totally platonic act of raising not just one, but two kids with your straight best friend.
Bookmarked by tokyodates
26 May 2026
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It was once impossible for Eddie to swing so close to the sun. Now, suddenly, he finds himself craving the warmth. He wants to dig deep, commit to these thoughts and their natural conclusion beyond the single apple bite. It’s a softer reality now — not cruel, not scary, easier to swallow — and it’s happened almost overnight. When exactly did Eddie become capable of such a thing? He can’t be sure. Maybe it was just that he was getting older. Maybe he was becoming more comfortable living the life he had built for himself with love and care and people who dispensed those feelings back to him, people who never judged him too harshly. Maybe it was merely a case of checks and balances; the freedom of knowing that once everything is gone there will be nothing much left to lose.
Whatever the reason for this revelation, it hardly matters. The wingspan of Eddie’s longing broadens with his search. And before Icarus ever fell, at least he flew.
Salvation comes for Eddie in the form of a misplaced camisole, a forgotten tube of lip gloss and a gay cowboy bar called Butch & Sundance. The rest is fundamental.
(OR: It's hot in Texas. It's always been hot in Texas.)
Bookmarked by tokyodates
10 May 2026
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Bookmarked by tokyodates
05 May 2026