Aleksarin
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Summary
Buck would rather stab himself in the neck with a fork, thrice, than let Maddie and Eddie say a single word to each other.
His concern is that they will become friends. Allies. Allies United Against Buck. Comrades Who Know Too Much About Buck. A terrifying, powerful joint force that simply cannot ever exist.
He will make sure of it.
Or, so that Maddie and Eddie do not ever mingle, Buck meddles.
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“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Some coffee maybe?”
“Nah, it’s alright. Oreo was good company for my day off. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, maybe. Thanks again.”
Should Eddie say something to make him stay? He already refused coffee, but maybe he didn’t like coffee? Shit, he was reaching for the doorknob and Eddie had lost his chance. Eddie opened his mouth to say… something… and was interrupted by a feral screech that had the other man whipping around, just in time to catch a chest full of cat.
“What the fuck?,” he asked, looking down at Oreo, wide-eyed.
Or… Eddie’s cat goes missing and Buck finds her. Oreo gets extremely attached to Buck and won’t let him leave until she’s confident that he’ll come back. Clearly, she has to do everything for her owner.
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amourissima (you used to call me comme ça) by beetlesandstars, kryptonian
Fandoms: 9-1-1 (TV)
29 Mar 2026
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“Buck, seriously.” Eddie catches his eye, staring intently, attempting to beam the anxiety straight into Buck’s brain. “I know we’re both playing it cool, but… How are you not freaking out right now? I’m freaking out right now.”
Buck quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t panic.”
“I don’t,” Eddie insists. “But I woke up in the wrong body this morning, and I had to—” He lowers his voice, ducking closer to Buck. “I touched your dick, man. Which—you know.”
A violation of boundaries. A line that can’t be uncrossed. Something Eddie feels deeply guilty about.
“You touched my dick?” Buck asks, approximately one billion decibels louder than necessary.
The room around them stills.
Or: Buck and Eddie switch bodies. Chaos ensues.
Series
- Part 15 of cjo + 911
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Summary
"Eddie?" Shannon picks up on the fourth ring. "Everything okay?"
"I kissed a man," he says.
The silence on the other end stretches for nine thousand years. Eddie can hear Shannon breathing. He can hear his own heartbeat slamming against his ribs. He stares at the apartment building through his windshield, at the lit window on the fourth floor that might belong to E. Buckley, and waits for his ex-wife to say literally anything at all.
"You what?"
"I kissed a man, Shannon. Just now. I was delivering food and he opened the door and I just— I kissed him. On the mouth. And I don't know why."
Another silence. Then a sound Eddie recognizes with dawning horror as Shannon trying very, very hard to suppress a laugh.
"Shannon."
"I'm processing."
"You're laughing."
"I'm processing." She fails spectacularly. "I'm sorry, I just— you kissed a man? Edmundo Diaz? The same Edmundo Diaz who wouldn't watch Brokeback Mountain with me because it made him 'uncomfortable'?"
"It did make me uncomfortable!"
"Yeah, Eddie, I'm starting to understand why."
Or,
Being kissed by your Uber Eats delivery driver? Worse things have happened. -
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Summary
He stands up, because Eddie does not cower from knocks at — he checks his phone — 10:52 PM, even though every true crime podcast his abuela forwards him suggests this is exactly how people end up as a Dateline episode.
He looks through the peephole.
He blinks.
He looks again.
There is a man on his porch. Which, fine, he expected a man. What he did not expect is for the man to be — and Eddie needs a second here, because he’s processing several things simultaneously and doing a poor job with all of them — approximately six foot two, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, visibly muscular in a way that suggests either a dedicated gym routine or a genetic lottery win or both, and completely, entirely, spectacularly naked.
Except for the potted succulent he's holding in front of his crotch.
Eddie's succulent. From Eddie's porch. The one Chris named Potricia.
Or,
The odds of the universe dropping a naked man on your doorstep are low, but never zero.