Chapter Text
Christopher didn’t belong in the loft. It was a weird addition to his otherwise day-to-day, but Buck would never kick him out.
Having been there for a few weeks now, it still hadn’t kicked in that this seemed at least semi-permanent. He’d manage to get Chris in the divorce, and one hadn’t even happened. He was playing divorced dad, trying to balance school and clubs and visitations and it was all so much more than he expected.
Did everything go too well for him for a little too long?
This situation had also caused the relationship with Tommy to fizzle. If he thought about it, he’d be able to realize that it was less the situation and more the lack of true interest on both their parts. He was too invested in the small family he’d made with the Diazs and Tommy, after thinking about it, wasn’t overly interested in being someone’s first foray into guys.
The worst part of being a divorced-not-divorced dad was that his friendship with Eddie had to take a backburner while he cared for Chris like he promised he always would. His friend was in constant pain, and he couldn’t really do anything about it. No beers, no movie nights, no late-night talks to try and ease the agony.
If he was honest with himself, every notification had him worried that it was going to be that something far worse had happened to Eddie and it was all because he couldn’t be there to bubble-wrap him through the worst of it.
Buck took the tea towel from his shoulder and removed the soft-center red velvet cookies from the oven. Bake sale day. Chris was rummaging around in what had become his room but probably shouldn’t have because what responsible adult let a kid set up camp in a somewhat living room while the flat screen and the game consoles were still there.
The loft wasn’t designed for children, and it made Buck regret not thinking about moving somewhere more suitable sooner.
“Aha!” came a triumphant cry from the clean clothing pile that seemed to be slowly migrating closer to the dirty. It wouldn’t be long until the two were combined and each item required the sniff test in the mornings. Chris held up two separate socks in victory.
“We’ll be late if you don’t hurry up,” Buck said, making a point of looking at his watch while doing so. They had time, but it always seemed like the minutes ticked away quicker when they needed to be somewhere at a specific time. “As you know, I’ve got a shift today, so you’ll be picked up by Carla who’ll be around until after dinner and then I want you to check in with me regularly. She’ll also be here to wake you up and take you to school, so I won’t see you until Tomorrow afternoon.”
“I know Buck,” Chris said, that teenage air around him more prominent than ever. Since he’d acquired Chris, it seemed he only grew into teenage petulance faster. “It’s the same thing we’ve been doing for weeks, and it’s also the exact same routine I’ve had with my dad since my 13 th birthday.”
The boy comes over to the kitchen and looks at the cookies. “They’ll be cool before we have to leave, right?”
“I’m putting them in tinfoil,” Buck replied, moving to do exactly that, Tupperware box already lined. The cookies were already cool enough to pick up, even if they couldn’t be held for too long and he quickly lined them up within the box. “If you don’t put the lid on until we get to school, they should be fine and not sweat.”
“They look good.”
“And you are not to eat even one of them,” Buck teased, ruffling Chris’ hair while he tried to bat the hand away. “They’re good cookies, so hopefully all will be sold.”
“They always premium price your baked goods and they always sell regardless. It’s gonna be like $2.50 a cookie I already know.”
“We’ll I’m glad they’re well liked.”
The rest of their morning routine – and it’s strange to Buck that they’ve actually established a routine – goes without a hitch. Chris is dropped off, lid on the Tupperware and all cookies accounted for. Buck even had time to get a coffee from the drive-thru before he parked the jeep and walked into the station, duffle on his shoulder and going directly to the locker room.
Eddie was there.
Eddie being there wasn’t the surprise - in fact he’d usually be delighted at being able to see his friend outside of the awkward visitations that happened three times a week where Chris refused to look at Eddie and Eddie tried to make small talk that received barely-there answers in response. No, it made him stop due to the way he was there.
He was sitting on the bench, hunched small with his elbows digging into his knees while he stared into his phone. Usually, Eddie would be methodical in getting ready and to the station recreational area before he really sunk into his current depression-associated funk. Even then, he’d engage with the others in conversation or would play games with them; he was just far more withdrawn than he had been before.
Then Buck noticed the tears that were tracked down his cheeks. He didn’t look like he was actively crying anymore, but the flushed look and the soft glistening of recent tears told Buck most of what he needed.
“Hey, Eddie?” Buck’s voice was soft and raspy, finding himself almost immediately dropped to his knees so he was much more level with him. Without much thought, his hands were cupping the man’s cheeks and softly wiping away the damp. Eddie’s eyes looked up but didn’t reach Buck’s. “What’s up?”
Eddie’s breath huffed and he somehow hunched even further. “I miss him so much Buck.”
Buck couldn’t quite explain why, but he encouraged Eddie until his face was settled against Buck’s neck, arms curled around him in a way that reminded him of a frightened child.
Buck’s hand found Eddie’s hair quite quickly, curling a lock between his fingers gently.
“Do-Does Chris miss me?”
It felt like torture. Someone had definitely decided he was too happy, because how do you tell a father that his son was currently refusing to even speak about his dad let alone admit something like that. That his son had decided that he’d had enough and gone as non-contact as Buck would let him. Especially for something that wasn’t done with any plan to hurt his child, and especially when he thought he’d dealt with it. No one expects, after all, your dead wife’s doppelganger to not only be completely fine with the whole situation, but then take it one notch weirder and actively roleplay as her. It’s not something he had on his bingo card, that’s for sure.
Eddie had clearly noted the longer than usual pause, because a horrifically pained sound escaped him as he once again curled, this time into Buck with fingers digging further into his t-shirt.
“Chris is still struggling, Eds. I can’t tell you what he’s thinking because he won’t tell me about it either.”
It didn’t feel very reassuring.
“I’m sure he does,” Buck quickly adds. “I’m sure he misses the way you used to be before this whole thing. But he’s not ready yet to even think about it.”
“It’s not fair,” Eddie’s pained whimper made Buck’s heart clench. “I’ve lost you both in one single chess-move and I don’t know how to get you back and I think – I think Chris has check-mated me. I think maybe --”
There was a choked sob, which prompted Buck to fall into soothing mode – hair stroking ramped up and his other hand rubbing up and down his back. Buck even hummed soothingly, like Eddie was a baby.
“I think he’s ended the game, Buck,” he said, and he was so broken.
---
Life was never going to be normal, Buck decided. It’s been two months since Eddie’s breakdown in the locker room, and he still had a teenager sleeping on his couch, thrice weekly parental visits and distinct lack of a best friend at his side.
Frankly, it sucked.
Eddie looked better at least. He told Chris during one of his visitation sessions that he had re-started therapy and was doing two sessions a week for the time being – one session focused on him and another on grief. Self-healing looked good on him, even if Chris refused to engage in it at all. When Eddie suggested that maybe Chris would benefit from talking to someone, he declared his dad’s visit over and went to sulk behind the curtains that Buck had pinned up after a few weeks to give the semblance of privacy.
Eddie had just sighed, put on a fake smile after finishing the last mouthful of his coffee and told Buck, quite loudly, that he’d see them both for his next visit in two days. Buck didn’t mention that he’d see Eddie the next morning at work.
Not having his best friend felt like being limbless. Sure, they texted, and Buck would often reach for his phone to do so when appropriate but being unable to go to the zoo with the pair of them, or have a movie night, or to catch a beer with him when Chris was at a sleepover was horrific.
Chris refused to have sleepovers anymore. It’s almost like he was punishing Buck for wanting to spend time with his dad.
Chris was also oddly clingy at times, suddenly attached to Buck like a third limb on random evenings where he only gets a break when he hides in the bathroom and doom scrolls on his phone for 5 minutes. It was strange seeing him bounce between an independent 13-year-old and how he was when he was 8 or 9.
Buck, overall, was worried. There was clearly something more going on with Christopher than just seeing a mom look alike at Eddie’s because even that wouldn’t cause months of not being able to properly look at his father. He was worried because Chris wasn’t talking to anyone about the things eating him up inside and he desperately needed the boy to start.
Take today, for example. Chris had been relatively normal until he came back from hanging out with some friends at the movies after school. It was strange, because he was before curfew, had done all his homework during his final period at school and seemed relatively at peace. And yet, seven minutes into being home there was a broken mug and a few choice swear words culminated in a sobbing breakdown against Buck’s chest. The evening had then been filled with Chris trailing Buck like a duckling and sitting pressed against him as a film played on the TV.
“Chris,” Buck finally said, the film credits rolling and the boy getting a bit fidgety and restless. “I really think you need to speak to someone about what's on your mind. I don’t care who you speak to, but I am getting really worried about you.”
Immediately, Chris flinched away from him and curled around himself. “You just want me to go back to dads, so you don’t have to deal with me anymore.”
“That is not the case. I won’t ever tell you that you cannot stay here for as long as you need. I am just so worried that something more is going on here that just what happened on the day you moved in.” Buck was carefully avoiding explicitly mentioning Kim.
Chris stayed huddled into himself and began to sniff, so Buck shuffled up next to him and wrapped his arms around him. “I’ve got you, Chris. I will always have you. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
“Everyone leaves,” he spoke into his muffled ball. “Dad had the army, mum died, you got really badly injured, dad’s girlfriends never wanted to see us again, all you firefighters end up in hospital. I spend my whole life worrying that I will never see someone ever again.”
Chris heaved a breath, and Buck put more deep pressure on the hold as a result.
“And dad – dad goes around and makes people leave. You argued when I was younger, and I didn’t see you for weeks.”
“Chris, that was my -”
“Don’t defend him!”
“I’m not,” Buck said firmly. “I am letting you know what happened. When you were younger, your dad tried to protect you by not letting you know what happened, but you clearly need to know the truth.
“When your dad and I weren’t speaking for those weeks, it was because your dad wasn’t allowed to contact me. I’d been injured, and they weren’t allowing me back to work and I got angry. I sued them, which meant that your dad wasn’t allowed to reach out to me at all.
I know that breakups feel like your dad’s fault. But relationships are complicated. They don’t always last, and it can really hurt when people leave.
The injury on the job part – well unfortunately that is the risk that first responders take every day. But the chances of dying on the job is slim – we're trained to keep ourselves and others safe and when we respond to more dangerous incidents, we have battalion chiefs and command posts telling us whether we are safe to continue.
And me and your father fight tooth and nail to come home to you in those situations, because you are the most important thing in both of our lives. We love you so much Chris.”
Chris didn’t say another word that night, shaking in Buck’s arms for what felt like hours until he’d exhausted himself enough that it was too difficult to keep his eyes open and heave through racking sobs. Buck had just settled Chris down onto the sofa, blanket tucked around him and resolved to investigate getting a new flat.
---
Move-in day was just weeks before Chris’ 14 birthday.
Boxes were stacked on the back of a moving truck and Buck had handed the clipboard over to Chris who seemed to appreciate the distraction as much as he had when he’d been labelling the boxes and helping Buck take down the curtain that created his ‘room’ and doing the final sweep to double check that they hadn’t left some part of their life behind forever.
Buck was quite excited to see the back of the loft. He felt like he’d been stabbed when Eddie had looked at him, heartbroken, when he’d said that he’d found a ground floor flat with good accessibility and the perfect room and bathroom for Chris – Carla certified.
“This seems to be a far longer thing than we were expecting Eddie, I can’t afford to risk injuring Chris because he’s slept on my couch for far too long,” Buck had tried to explain over the pool table at work. They hadn’t been out for beers in 7 months, and it felt far too long.
“I don’t know what else I can do, Buck,” Eddie sighed. He looked resigned, almost given up. Buck chewed on his bottom lip. Therapy had, at least, mellowed Eddie’s anger because he felt like this conversation even a few months ago would have resulted in a shiner.
“I wish I had the answer,” He sucked in a breath, potted a ball and let it out. “But you asked me to take care of Chris when you couldn’t. Okay, you might not be dead – but you begged me to look after him that night and that’s what I’ll continue to do because as much as you want him with you, you would absolutely crumble when his trust is broken, and he knows he can’t turn to either of us.”
“I - I know,” Eddie sigh’s might be the death of Buck.
How, exactly, did he end up divorced from this man before he even got the change to love him?
Buck decided that he wasn’t going to decode that thought then and there, and instead potted another ball. “You’d like it,” he added. “The flat. It has an absolutely amazing waterfall shower and the marble in the kitchen is breath taking.”
“I can’t wait to check it out,” Eddie may have choked it out, but Buck pretended not to notice.
“We move in on a Saturday, so you’ll get to see us in a state of half-unpacked panic on Monday night,” Buck stated firmly. Maybe if he showed Eddie that he was always welcome at home, showed Chris that his dad was always welcome and always coming back, then maybe, maybe, maybe they’d finally get somewhere.
Buck had less hope than he was going to admit out loud.