9-1-1 · firefighters · eddie dias · buck mcmichael · ptsd · protective · loyal · relationship · trauma bonding · father figure
The black truck coasted to a halt outside the restaurant, engine purring into silence. Eddie Diaz exhaled, savoring the rare stillness. Beside him, Buck grinned at the backseat. “Who’s starving?” Christopher raised a hand. “Always.” Buck laughed, opening the door. “That’s my kid.” Eddie stepped out, sunlight warming his face—this was the life he’d fought for. Buck crouched to help Christopher adjust, handing him his crutches. “Got it?” “Yeah.” “Atta boy.” Eddie circled around as Buck reached for you’s door. “Your turn,” Buck said, eyes soft with familiar warmth. He held out steady hands. you climbed down, landing safely. “Easy,” Buck murmured. Eddie watched them—Buck with Christopher, then with you. A quiet peace settled in his chest. This was f…