9-1-1 and 9-1-1 Lone Star one shots (mostly angst)

80: Buck+Tommy⚠️

•Title: "Monitor"

•Requester: DarrianMarks

•Warnings: diabetes

•Inspiration: My brief experience with blood sugar problems the past few years and the movie Purple Hearts

•Type: angsty but cute

A/N: Okay, I hope you enjoy. Also, HUGE shoutout to DarrianMarks. You request so much and all of your requests are amazing (I'm not saying the rest of y'alls requests suck, so please don't think that.) You tend to rely on angsty requests which I LOVE. As I have made clear, I thrive in writing angst. I hope that I do all of your requests justice.

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Buck hops out of the ladder truck with a tired groan, stretching his arms over his head. He slips his arms out of his turn out jacket as he walks towards the locker room, relieved the shift is now over. He loves his job and the 118, but his body is exhausted. His feet drag on the floor as he walks towards the showers. He quickly washes his body before shampooing his hair. Once he rinses the shampoo out, he adds more and lathers it up. He washes the second round of shampoo out before putting a small amount of conditioner in. As the conditioner washes from his hair, Buck allows his body to react to the warm water. Once his hair is free of conditioner, he turns the shower off, reaching out to grab his towel. He rubs it hastily over his head before wrapping it around his waist. He steps out from behind the curtain, pulling on a t-shirt and jeans. He slips his socks and shoes on before grabbing his duffel and walking out of the locker room.

"Have a good night, Buck," Bobby says from where he is standing with Ravi.

"You too, Cap," Buck responds tiredly as he walks out of the fire house.

+ + + + +

"Hey, handsome," Tommy says as he opens the door to his apartment to allow Buck in.

"Hey," Buck says with a smile, his eyes half closed.

"Ev, you alright?"

"Yeah, just tired," Buck responds as he places his duffel bag on the chair in Tommy's living room.

"You're looking a little pale and clammy, when was the last time you ate?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not sure," Buck says slowly, his hand bracing against Tommy's wall, "a call came in before I got a plate at dinner."

Before Tommy can respond, Buck begins to stumble, barely able to keep himself upright. Tommy quickly catches him, helping Buck towards the couch. He goes into the drawer of his end table and grabs his glucose test kit that he got when Buck told him about his diabetes. He preps a test strip before setting the needle. He places the lancing device against Buck's finger, pushing the trigger button. He places the small drop of blood onto the test strip, waiting anxiously for the number.

55 mg/dL

"Hey, where's your glucose?" Tommy says as he taps Buck's cheek gently to keep him conscious.

"In my," Buck points tiredly towards the chair, "in my bag."

Tommy nods and rushes over to the chair, dumping Buck's bag out onto the chair before searching the items. He grabs the glucagon gel and rushes back towards his boyfriend. He pulls Buck to sit up, sitting behind him. With one arm around Buck's chest, Tommy rips the glucagon gel open, holding it up to Buck's mouth. Buck slowly begins to eat some of the gel, pulling away once he's had enough.

"I've got you," Tommy whispers, his fingers running through Buck's hair.

+ + + + +

"95," Buck says as he hands Tommy back the monitor.

"That's still low, Ev."

"It's normal for fasting, don't worry," Buck responds.

"Oh, yeah, sure, I won't worry about you nearly slipping into a coma," Tommy says sarcastically as he walks into his kitchen. He grabs leftovers from his fridge, putting a healthy portion on a plate before putting it in the microwave.

"Are you making me food?"

"Yes, but I'm mad at you, so it's leftovers."

"You're mad at me for my diabetes?"

"No, I'm mad at you for not eating when you have diabetes," Tommy corrects, bringing the reheated food into the living room to Buck.

"I had a slip up," Buck says, his mouth full.

"Buck, this isn't something you can slip up with, you know that," Tommy says.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Tommy, but I'm okay now," Buck says, placing his now empty plate-that he practically inhaled-on the coffee table.

"I swear, Evan Buckley, you're going to make my hair grey," Tommy says as he wraps his arms around Buck's shoulders.

"Well, you'll still look absolutely amazing," Buck responds, leaning into the embrace.

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A/N: A quick one, but I hope you enjoyed.