Archive of Our Own ^beta

The whole thing starts because Christopher comes home. Or, rather, It starts with a visit. 

And predictably, as with every other good thing in his life, it starts with Buck.

***

It had taken Chris a while to talk to Buck after he’d gotten to El Paso. His texts had gone unanswered as if he’d lumped Buck in with Eddie’s betrayal by default. 

Buck is nothing if not persistent, though: countless texts, Wikipedia articles, YouTube videos he’d thought Chris would enjoy, photos of the new recipes he’d been testing for when Chris would eventually come home to try them himself.

In the end, it had been enough.

Eddie had seen Chris’s replies:

are u rly that bored without me 

Its kind of sad that ur best friend is 13

He’d laughed with tears in his eyes, so desperately missing his kid and the dry humor he came with.

Now, Chris and Buck talk regularly. Eddie knows Buck feels guilty about it sometimes, so glad to be talking to him but upset it’s not something he can share with Eddie.

He’s glad Chris has someone to talk to outside of Texas. Glad for the updates he gathers from Buck when his parents seem hell-bent on not giving him anything to work with.

He knows Buck holds things back, not wanting to betray Christopher’s trust, and he’s grateful for that, too, even when it hurts. 

Chris and Buck’s relationship has always been separate, something just for them. He would never want that to change.

Today is no exception. 

As Eddie opens his front door, bags of groceries in his hands, he hears Buck puttering around in the kitchen, the sound of Chris’s voice on speaker filling the empty house.

He stays still in the foyer, a soft smile on his face as he catches them in the middle of a spirited conversation:

“—And he assigned this huge group project right after we just finished that other one. He’s such an asshole.”

Buck makes a tsking noise, fighting laughter in his voice, “Language bud.”

Eddie can practically see the eye roll Chris must be giving him because Buck does let a laugh out then as Chris sighs.

“Fine, he’s such a jerk. And Alex-”

Buck interjects, “Is he the one that’s dating-“

Chris finishes the sentence before Buck can, 

“Leah, yeah. And he never does anything to help with the project, but he wants all the credit.”

Buck scoffs, “Just when you think he can’t get any worse.”

“That’s what I’m saying! And Mr. Anderson is no help.”

Eddie’s chest warms at the easy way Buck and Chris interact. How intertwined Buck is in his life even states away- the way they finish each other's sentences without a second thought.

When Chris was younger, Eddie used to joke that Buck was rubbing off on him, but as the years go on, Buck’s influence has never been more clear. So many times, Eddie has looked at Chris and seen only the things he’s picked up from Buck.

He tunes back in as Buck clears his throat, “Speaking of, did you think about what we talked about the other day?”

At that, Eddie makes a show of loudly tossing his keys in the bowl by the door, slipping his shoes off to make his presence known. Only comfortable listening in for so long without their knowledge.

“Eds?”

Eddie walks toward the kitchen, “Yeah, I’m back. Sorry I took so long, they were out of that wine you wanted.”

The sight that he finds isn’t unusual: Buck stirring a pot at the stove, apron tied around his waist, the smell of the bolognese he’s cooking filling the air. Buck looks over his shoulder towards him with a warm smile on his face in greeting.

It’s normal, especially since Chris left to see Buck like this. Standing in his kitchen cooking an elaborate meal for the two of them while they both try to ignore the gaping hole where their third person should be.

Eddie’s heart jumps in his chest, such a regular reaction where Buck’s concerned by now that he barely pays It any mind anymore.

His acceptance of his feelings for Buck is relatively new. It had gotten pretty hard to lie to himself when during the week Buck told him about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie felt lighter than he had in months.

Therapy had helped, too. 

Long monologues to Frank about his feelings eventually led to the realization that he wasn’t as straight as he’d initially thought, i.e., completely gay, and to top it off, completely in love with his best friend.

That had taken a while to adjust to. Or rather, Eddie’s still adjusting. Even months after his revelation. Even after coming out to the team and Chris. 

Since Chris left, he’s stuck his feelings in a box in the back of his mind marked with big, bold letters: Deal With Later.

His brain hasn’t managed to get the message to the rest of his body yet, though, which is evident in the way it feels like his heart is in his throat any time Buck is in his general vicinity for more than two minutes.

After Eddie has finished putting away the few groceries he’d picked up, Buck nods his head in the direction of his phone propped against a stack of cookbooks, 

“Got my sous chef with me tonight. You know he’s just as bossy in video form?”

Chris scoffs playfully, “You shouldn’t have taught me the recipe if you didn’t want me to correct you when you get things wrong.”

Eddie can’t fight the grin that tugs at his mouth, “He has a point, Buck.” And then quieter, “Hey, Chris.”

Chris manages a half smile through the screen, “Hey Dad.”

And okay, that’s at least an improvement from the quick nods or complete lack of response he’s gotten in the past. 

Things have gotten better with time, but Chris is still slow to respond to his texts, if at all, and conversation between them is stilted on days Buck isn’t there as a buffer.

Eddie is set on pretending that it doesn’t sting no matter how many knowing glances Buck throws him when he talks about it.

Before Eddie can even think of a topic to keep Chris on the phone, he’s already speaking up, 

“I gotta go. I promised Abuelo I’d watch the game with him tonight, and it’s about to start.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh, “The game?”

Chris nods, “Uh- yeah. He’s trying to get me into the Cowboys.”

Eddie feels a familiar heat flare up inside him at that, the beginning sparks of anger, 

“Bud, you know you don’t need to watch that if you’re not interested. Abuelo would understand.”

Even as he says the words, Eddie’s not sure how true that statement is.

A flash of a memory in the back of his mind, the Cowboys jersey his dad had gotten him for his birthday around the time he was Chris’s age. So wholly disconnected from Eddie’s interests that he’d genuinely assumed he’d enjoy it no matter how many times Eddie tried to get out of his dad’s NFL Sunday rituals.

He’d thrown it in the back of his closet and forgotten about it until a month ago, Halloween. When his mom sent a photo of Chris in the same jersey, a grimace on his face, having aged out of trick or treating two years ago.

He should’ve expected this. He knows his parents- knows they’re trying to recreate the childhood Eddie never got, whether they realize it or not. 

Chris’s voice takes him out of the memory, 

“It’s not so bad. I usually just pretend to fall asleep by halftime, and then Abuela lets me go to my room.” 

He has a sly smile on his face, a teasing glint in his eyes so familiar that it makes Eddie’s chest ache. 

It makes him want to reach into the screen and drag him back home. He wants the three of them to sit at the kitchen table eating Buck’s meal and trading jokes like they would have back before Eddie went and ruined everything.

Buck must sense Eddie’s discomfort because he jumps in to fill the silence, 

“Thanks for the tip. I’m gonna use that next time your dad tries to get me to watch those telenovelas he pretends not to like.”

Eddie makes a protesting noise as Chris laughs,

“Good idea. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Eddie nods, fighting the tears he can feel building, 

“We miss you. Talk soon, okay?”

Buck echoes his sentiment, “We love you so much, bud. Keep us updated. I expect daily play-by-play on the Alex project drama.”

Chris laughs, “Bye, Buck. Bye, Dad. Love you.”

Eddie manages to make it a solid minute after they hang up the FaceTime until he has to press the heels of his hands against his eyes, his back resting against the countertop.

Buck tries to mitigate the fallout before Eddie can make his way to a full breakdown, 

“That was better than usual, huh? He’s been more open with talking lately.”

Eddie appreciates Buck’s optimism; it’s one of the reasons he’s managed to fall so stupidly in love with him, his bright way of looking at the world despite everything it’s thrown his way, but it’s not enough to fix this.

He wants to point out the fact that the only person Chris has been more open with is Buck. Evidenced in the way he’d tried to get off the call the second he realized Eddie was home, but he decides to tackle the more glaring issue instead:

“Football? Chris hates football. They’re just projecting. My dad could never bond with me, and now—” He laughs wetly, “They’re just trying to make up for how fucked up I turned out. Do it over.”

It’s not the first time he’s shared that sentiment with Buck, but it aches more today. Hearing the clear evidence, seeing it on Halloween: his son in the jersey he’d never worn with a version of his parents he never had.

Buck swats him playfully with the dishtowel he’s holding, 

“Cool it with the insults. What did Frank say the other day?”

Eddie grimaces, swiping underneath his eyes to catch the tears that managed to slip, 

“I really regret telling you anything about therapy.”

Buck doesn’t dignify that with a response, simply raising his eyebrow and waiting for Eddie to reply.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie concedes, his voice an exaggerated imitation of Frank’s, 

“‘Positive self-talk, Eddie.’ I know. Sorry. Just- I miss him.”

The understatement of the century.

Buck turns off the stove and moves closer. Reaches to rest his hand against Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb pressing into the dip of his collarbone in a gesture of comfort,

“I know you do. Even if he doesn’t say it, he misses you right back.”

Eddie hears the unspoken words in his sentence whether or not Buck voices them; I miss him too.

Chris is a topic he knows Buck tries not to broach too often, aware of the way talking about it makes Eddie feel as if he’s pressing down on an open wound. 

Eddie appreciates it, but he also knows how much this is affecting Buck, and he knows he could use some reassurance.

He’s talking about it for Buck. That always makes things easier. 

“He misses you, Buck. You should hear him on the calls you’re not on: ‘Buck told me about that,’ ‘I was watching this video Buck sent…” 

He knows his next words sound too sincere, but he can’t stop them, 

“You’re our favorite topic to talk about, I think.”

Buck breaks their eye contact then, clearing his throat and removing his hand from Eddie's shoulder,

“Need you to try the sauce. You can tell me whether or not Chris was right about my cooking skills without him here.”

Eddie shakes his head and follows him to the stove, taking a spoon and dipping it. He fights not to let out a moan of appreciation, 

“Jesus Buck. Don’t tell him I said this, but you’re giving Bobby a run for his money.”

The look on Buck’s face at his words is enough to make him laugh, the clear way he basks in any form of praise, the bright beaming grin that takes over his entire face.

“Well, with that review, I think dinner’s served. What’re we watching tonight?”

Eddie shrugs, “You pick. Let me just grab the wine, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

Buck’s face contorts confusedly, “I thought you said they were out of it at the store?”

Luckily, with the way his back is turned toward the fridge, Buck can’t see the way his cheeks heat up, 

“Uh- yeah. That’s why I was late. I went to another store to find it.”

Eddie leaves out the part of the story where he went to three separate stores to find it, sue him. He’s a man in love.

Buck’s tone is warm, “Thanks, Eds.”

When Eddie comes into the living room with their wine glasses, bowls of pasta are already sitting on the coffee table. 

Buck has queued up some sort of a Christmas movie, not one that Eddie recognizes.

Buck is defensive before Eddie can even get a word in, 

“You said I could pick. It’s not my fault you have a weird vendetta against the Christmas genre as a whole.”

Eddie hands over his wine glass, settling next to him on the couch, their shoulders brushing, “I didn’t say anything.”

And he wouldn’t. 

Sure, it’s true he’s not the most enthusiastic about Christmas movies, but that particular trait has always been something he’s played up to make Buck and Chris laugh more than anything rooted in real disdain. 

If Chris was here, Eddie would make a big deal about it being November 30th, not even December yet. But, as it stands, he’s happy to be here, his side a warm line of heat where Buck leans against him.

If he can’t have Chris right now, he at least has this.

***

It’s silly, but around this time every year, Eddie always recalls a very specific memory without fail: Third grade, the smirk on Joey Marino's face as he’d quipped in the cafeteria, ‘Santa isn’t real.’ 

The conversation he’d had with his mom after school that day, tears in his eyes. The sick swoop in his gut as his mother revealed that Joey was right, it had all been a lie, but, ”Please don’t tell your sisters.”

The weird sensation he’d never felt before and hadn’t had a name for at the time that he can now recognize as betrayal.

As dramatic as it sounds, the whole thing had almost been enough to turn him off telling Christopher about Santa, so afraid that his son would one day feel the same thing he had that day in his kitchen. 

But of course, Chris, sweet, carefree, optimistic Chris, had taken it in stride. 

He’d let out a laugh as they decorated the tree together a few years ago, Buck in the kitchen making cocoa when Eddie had asked what he was asking Santa for that year. 

Had snorted, nose crinkling, “I know Santa’s not real dad.” 

Had shrugged, leaned in to joke, 

“Don’t tell Buck though. I think he still believes.” 

Eddie's heart had felt like it was turning over in his chest when Buck popped his head around the corner, their mugs in hand, 

“Don’t tell Buck what?” 

Chris had locked eyes with Eddie then, sending them both into a fit of carefree giggles, and that had been that. No betrayal. No heartbreak. Simple in the way things between Eddie and his own parents had never been.

The stark contrast between the memory of that moment and the reality he’s facing now isn’t something he wants to deal with.

At least one piece of the puzzle is here this year. Though Eddie can barely see Buck through all the garland he’s sifting through, hunched over a large box, the lid set next to it covered in dust from the year it’s spent at the top of the hall closet.

Buck had barged in this weekend with one agenda on his mind: getting Eddie’s Christmas spirit up. Which, of course, meant sorting through Eddie’s boxes of Christmas decorations like he was doing right now.

“Buck, it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t need all this when I’m the only one here.”

It’s not the first time Eddie’s said that today, it might not even be the tenth time, so Buck just ignores him and takes out more decorations.

It isn’t until they get to the box with the stockings, more specifically, Christopher’s, that Eddie really wants to quit.

Sitting there where it will stay, unused, staring up at him from the box, it all feels like the universe playing a sick joke.

He huffs, throwing the lid back on and storming towards the kitchen for a beer, ignoring Buck’s questioning.

It turns out he doesn’t need to explain himself because when he walks back in, Buck’s holding Christopher’s stocking himself, a wistful look in his eyes.

Eddie leans against the door frame, preparing himself to speak, 

“You know, Shannon handmade that?” Eddie lets out a dry chuckle, “She was never good with crafts or sewing, but the year Chris was born, she was determined. Wouldn’t let my abuela help her no matter how many times she tried.”

Buck grins at that, “That’s really sweet. No wonder Chris loves it so much.”

Eddie hums, his lips scrunching up in the way they do when he’s about to cry and trying not to,

“I should mail it to him. I didn’t even think of that he probably wants—“

Buck interjects, “Can we talk about something?”

Eddie wants to quip that they already are talking about something, but he can tell by his expression that Buck is serious, so he just nods, making his way towards the couch.

All of a sudden, as Buck sits beside him, he seems nervous, fiddling with his hands and avoiding eye contact,

“I wanted to wait to bring it up. I was trying to— I wanted to talk to your parents first, get it all settled, but—“

“What?”

Buck looks up then, a tentative smile on his lips, 

“You know Chris has winter break coming up. We’ve been talking, and I thought- well, we thought- it might be fun if he came here for it.”

Eddie is dumbfounded, can hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears, has nothing coherent to add other than a repeated, 

“What?”

Buck bites his lip, “It would just be a visit- for now. I know that’s not as good as having him home for real, but it would be the whole break, and I know we’ll have to talk to your parents, but—“

For lack of a better word, Eddie practically tackles Buck in a hug, tears welling, awestruck, 

“Buck, this is—you’re— are you kidding me? This is everything.”

Eddie thought he knew what loving Buck was, has always wondered how he could manage to love him any deeper- hasn’t even thought deeper was possible, but today, this moment has proved him wrong.

Loving Buck is an endless well. Eddie can never put a cap on it. It’s never going to stop growing. 

He thinks, deliriously, of the article Buck had read him a few weeks ago about sequoia trees: the way their rate of growth never slows. The way they grow more in a single season than some species do in a lifetime.

Thinks, that’s my love for Buck. A sequoia.

Buck is crying now, too, when they finally detach themselves, swiping under his eyes, 

“Merry Christmas.”

***

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Eddie. He has a routine here.”

The words make Eddie want to scream. He clenches his fist hard enough that his nails dig into his palm, the pain a centering presence.

Chris had a routine here. Had a life here. Still has a family here. 

He wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place if his parents had just taken the time to listen. To help, rather than jump at the chance to take Chris away at the first sign of Eddie’s failure. 

They’d been waiting for something like this since the day they’d dropped them off at the airport to head to LA practically seven years ago. Not a matter of if but when.

Buck rests his hand against Eddie’s fist, slowly uncurling his fingers for him as he clears his throat to speak, 

“Chris has a break, right? We would have him back before school starts up again.”

Buck poses it as a question when it’s anything but. From what he’s told Eddie, Chris has been talking about the break since before Halloween.

There’s silence on his Mom’s end at Buck’s words. She’s surprised; hadn’t expected anyone else to be in on their conversation.

“Hello, Buck.”

The words come out polite, but Eddie knows his mom well enough to read her tone. She’ll be talking about this with Eddie later.

Buck, as usual, doesn’t let it phase him, “Hi Helena. Sorry to interrupt, but—“

Eddie can’t hold back his scoff, “You’re not.”

His mom adds, “Eddie, this is a private—“

“Mom, this is Chris’s choice. He has the time off.”

His mom sighs, 

“Do you know how expensive a ticket is going to be this close to Christmas? How do you plan to afford that?”

Buck speaks up again, 

“I have a lot of unused miles. We’d be able to get Chris a ticket with no charge.”

That had been something Eddie had tried to fight him on, but it was no use, 

“I’m not using them anyway, Eddie. When was the last time I took a vacation? I want to do this. Please?”

And how could Eddie have said no to that?

At Buck’s words, his mom attempts another roadblock,

“You know we wouldn’t be able to fly with him. I already told you we promised Adriana we’d spend Christmas with her and the girls.”

No, Eddie hadn’t known that, actually but if anything, that just makes him more determined, 

“He’s almost 14. And someone from the airline will be with him the whole time since he’s a minor. They’ll make sure he gets through alright, and we’ll be there to pick him up.”

All at once, the idea that he’s fighting with his mother, trying to convince her when Chris is his kid, seems ridiculous, 

“It’s not a discussion. Chris wants to come, and we want him to be here. The only reason we called was to let you know. I hope you and Dad can understand that.”

With that, he hangs up the phone, sure he’ll be hearing about it soon in a lengthy separate call with his mother, but right now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

Chris is coming home. Sure, it’s just for a visit, but he’ll be here. Eddie will have both of his favorite people back in the same place. 

That’s all that matters now.

***

Once they’ve conquered the hurdle of his parents, the rest of it comes easy.

Eddie has a short phone call with Chris afterward, reiterating how excited he is that he’ll be home for Christmas. It could be wishful thinking, but he’s almost positive Chris sounds excited, too.

They buy the ticket, and before Eddie knows it, it’s already time to pick him up from the airport.

Eddie has been flitting around the house all weekend, trying to make sure everything is perfect for Chris, even up to right now, the last minute before they need to leave.

“Eds, you checked his room three times already. Everything’s clean. He’s going to be so excited to be back in his own bed that he won’t even notice.”

He knows Buck’s right, but he can’t fight the urge, sticking his head through the bedroom door one more time before finally deeming it acceptable.

“Do you think we got enough of those sodas he likes?”

Buck laughs, pulling him towards the front door with a hand on his arm, “You bought five boxes, I think that’ll cover a week and a half.”

He’s teasing him, but Buck is just as anxious as he is. He’s only putting up a front for Eddie’s sake. That’s how they always are. One is the steady presence when they know the other needs it. Ready to switch off at a moment's notice.

It makes Eddie’s chest warm. The care they’ve built for each other. The care Buck treats him with.

The entire ride to the airport, they’re both a bundle of energy. Buck is constantly in motion, tapping against the steering wheel every two seconds, and Eddie is so busy refreshing the airline’s app checking on Chris’s flight that he doesn’t even notice.

“Do you think we got here too early? Maybe we should wait in the car.”

Buck turns off the ignition, twisting in his seat to face him, “Do you want to wait in the car?”

Eddie sighs, swiping his hand against his face in exasperation, “No. Just—“ He doesn’t finish the sentence, mind going a million different places.

“Then let’s go wait inside, okay? He’s landing soon. We’re fine.”

Eddie nods, shaking out his limbs as he gets out of the car, trying to expend some energy. 

Before he can move towards the entrance, Buck steps in front of him, hands on his shoulders- moving his head until Eddie concedes and makes eye contact.

“You got this, alright? Everything is gonna be fine. It’s not like it was when he first left, you’ve both made a lot of progress.”

Eddie knows that to some level, that must be true. The Chris that flew to Texas all those months ago would never have considered being with Eddie for Christmas. The Eddie all those months ago wouldn’t have even dared to hope for something like this.

No matter how much Eddie feels like he doesn’t deserve it, some part of Chris is open to coming here, even if it is only with the promise of seeing Buck, he’ll take what he can get.

Eddie nods, and once Buck is satisfied with whatever he sees on his face, they walk toward the entrance, hearts racing in tandem.

***

Realistically, Eddie had expected himself to cry. He just hadn’t expected himself to cry approximately two seconds after seeing him when he’s not even off the escalator yet. 

Eddie feels Buck’s presence at his side, and from the small sniffle he’s hearing, he’s not doing much better at holding in his emotions. 

“Chris!” Eddie’s waving exaggeratedly before he can think to stop himself, to tone it down. 

Since Chris has left, it’s felt as if Eddie’s been missing a limb, and now, here, Chris is feet away, and Eddie feels the gaping chasm of his chest stitch back together all at once.

Chris is very obviously tamping down his smile, walking quickly toward them with a shy glance back at the airline employee who’s escorted him. 

It takes everything Eddie has not to just run, to scoop him up and squeeze him tight and kiss his head and bring him home and never let him go to El Paso ever again.

In reality, he does what he knows he needs to do. Stands still and waits for Chris to approach them himself, as much as it kills him.

Buck is practically jumping up and down, a constant energy at Eddie’s side, their shoulders knocking together every time he moves.

When he finally makes it to them, Eddie’s not sure how to approach, and that thought makes him feel sick. This is Chris. This is the kid he’s known inside and out his entire life.

He doesn’t know if barreling forward in a hug will make it better or worse. Doesn’t know if Chris would even want that after everything.

Buck can tell he’s stuck. That much is obvious because he takes the lead, 

“Is it too embarrassing if we ask for hugs?” 

He’s still sniffling, trying to hold back his tears so the words come out all jumbled, but Chris gets the message anyway.

Chris rolls his eyes lightheartedly, all faux exasperation when really he just looks fond, “It’s fine.” 

And as he says the words, he makes eye contact with Eddie. Just a few seconds before he’s looking away, but enough time for Eddie to feel settled in his choice to step forward with wide open arms.

Chris is stiff in Eddie’s arms like he’s not sure what to do either- how to act. But he lets it happen anyway, resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder for a few seconds before he’s pulling back.

Eddie’s careful with his words, “We really missed you, mijo.”

Saying we feels less dangerous than I. I really missed you. He’s sure that’s implied, but he’s not sure that he’s earned the right to say it. Not when it’s his fault Chris is gone in the first place- so grouping himself in with Buck is safer. 

Chris doesn’t reply; just moves back to grin at Buck, 

“Just hug me already, Buck. You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

Buck doesn’t need to be told twice, in an instant, he’s rushing forward, practically crushing Chris in a bear hug the way Eddie wishes he could.

“I’m so happy you’re here!”

Chris hums. The words are muffled into Buck’s t-shirt, but they sound something like, “Me too, missed you.” 

Eddie’s not sure whether that’s just wishful thinking on his part. Doesn’t want to know either way.

He isn’t sure what would feel worse, Chris only saying it to Buck or not saying it at all.

***

The drive home is- well. In short, Eddie is glad he’s not the one doing the driving. 

If he was, he’s sure they would’ve gotten in an accident three freeway stops ago.

Fuck, for how off balance he feels, he’s not even sure if he could’ve driven out of the parking lot with them unscathed.

He spends the whole time stealing glances at Chris in the rearview mirror and then looking away before the cycle starts over again. 

Like he’s afraid if he waits too long to look, it will have all been a mirage. But each time he glances back, Chris is there. Alive, breathing, in the same state as Eddie for the first time in months.

He’s grateful for Buck, who fills the silence anytime it stretches for more than a minute. Asking Chris about school and his grandparents and Texas when it’s clear he’s only asking for Eddie's sake- so Eddie can hear details about Chris’s life without being the one to have to ask. 

It’s obvious; Chris knows too because with how often he and Buck are in contact, he’s sure he’s told Buck all these things and then some, but he doesn’t call them out.  Just answers the questions and asks some back, and Eddie chimes in when he can. 

Calculated, controlled, not too often but not too little either. 

He feels a little insane. Like he’s keeping a tally in his head- one small comment for every four of Buck’s. Don’t ask too many questions. Don’t push. Like he’s in the middle of playing some sort of game, he wishes he could quit.

When they pull into the driveway, he takes a second to notice. Buck saying, 

“Eddie?” In a tone that makes it clear it’s not the first time he’s had to say it.

Chris is already outside the truck, waiting for them to grab his bags and head inside. Eddie’s confused for just a moment, so used to Chris running ahead of them, barging inside. Already halfway to the couch before Buck and Eddie have even stepped through the threshold. 

And then it hits him, oh. He doesn’t have his key. Probably hadn’t even thought to bring it. It’s probably sitting at the bottom of some drawer in his parent's house collecting dust. 

The thought makes the hollow feeling in his chest grow ten sizes.

Buck speaks again repeats, “Eddie, we’re home.”

Eddie nods, stepping out of the car and plastering a grin on his face so Buck will stop looking at him like he’s about to break. He’s not sure it helps.

He lets Buck unlock the door. Lets him walk inside with Chris while Eddie is behind them, Chris’s bag in his hand. Small, a carry-on. Because he’ll only be here for a few days, his mind provides. 

As if he doesn’t already know.

He needs to appreciate what he has- take what he can get. A week and a half is better than nothing.

When he walks inside, he finds Chris standing in the living room, eyes surveying,

“You decorated.”

Eddie smiles, “That’s a nice way of putting it. It’s more like Christmas threw up everywhere huh? You can thank Buck for that.”

Chris huffs a small laugh as Buck walks over, 

“You’re welcome, Chris. If it was up to Scrooge over here, your house would be completely bare. I did my best.”

“Where’s the tree?”

Eddie bumps his shoulder against Chris’s, the most physical contact he’ll let himself initiate, 

“Wanted to wait for you. You always pick out the best ones.”

Chris nods, “Can I go to my room?”

“Of course! Yeah. I— your sheets are clean and I left some towels on your dresser if you want to take a shower.”

Buck stands up from his place on the couch, moving towards the front of the house and Chris’s eyes widen in what Eddie can only interpret as panic,

“Buck. You’re not leaving are you?”

Buck turns around quickly quelling his fear, “No, Chris.”

They seem to be having a conversation with just their eyes, something Eddie isn’t in on.

If he had to guess, he’s sure one of Chris’s conditions for coming here was that Buck would be around the whole time.

Luckily, Eddie had assumed that and had spoken to Buck- already prepared.

“Buck’s staying over while you’re here. We thought it would be fun.”

He hopes his voice is coming across as less strained than it sounds to his own ears but from the expression on Buck’s face he’s not so sure.

Chris goes back to his room, Eddie itching to follow but holding back with everything he has.

Once he’s out of sight, Eddie falls against the couch letting out a loud breath as if he’s been holding it this whole time without realizing it,

“That could’ve gone worse right?”

He isn’t looking at Buck as he asks the question, his hand over his eyes, but he hears him sit down beside him,

“No notes. See? I told you it would be better than you thought.”

Eddie glances over at him then, a knowing smile on his face,

“Yeah, yeah. We get it you’re always right.”

Buck grins, “You said it, not me.”

Eddie throws a pillow in his general direction, not hard enough to do any real damage. Buck’s laughing too much to care either way.

For the first time since Chris left, Eddie feels like he might be able to take a real breath.

***

Chris’s return doesn’t truly cement in his mind until the next day. 

He’s so used to waking up alone now in a quiet house that when he hears the sound of voices from the kitchen, he feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin until it hits him.

He lets himself bask in it for a few minutes. Lying in bed, listening to the sounds of Chris’s laughter- the teasing tone of Buck’s voice. He lets it wash over him until he knows he’s stayed in bed too long.

He makes his way to the kitchen, following the smell of waffles.

Chris is carefully pouring the batter into the iron when he walks in, Buck near enough to intervene if needed but letting him do it on his own.

When Buck notices Eddie his face lights up in a bright grin. His hair is tousled, curly, and going in every direction, an almost identical match to Chris’s. 

His heart skips and there it is. 

It’s not as if he ever forgets about his feelings for Buck- the love that spills over every time he looks at him- but sometimes he gets busy enough not to notice it as much.

Then things like this morning happen, the sun filtering in through the window, lighting Buck in just the right way, and it’s as if all the love comes rushing forward at once. Demanding to be felt.

“I see how it is,” Eddie teases, “First day back and you’re making your sous chef do all the work.”

“What else is he here for?” Buck adds on.

Chris lets out a protesting noise, setting the bowl down to swat Buck against his side, 

“Shut up. It’s not my fault I’m the best cook in the family.”

He says the words so easily, carefree, and then back to his task like nothing ever happened but they hit Eddie right in the chest.

He knows Chris sees the three of them as a family. It’s not even the first time he’s said something along those lines but it’s the first time he’s said it since he’s been back and since Eddie’s feelings have cemented.

“Geez, your dad really needs coffee, Chris. He’s out of it today.”

He must’ve been lost in his thoughts for longer than he realized because when he tunes back in, Buck’s fingers are brushing his as they hand over a warm cup of coffee, just the way Eddie likes it.

They all freshen up after breakfast, Eddie practically fighting Buck away from the dishes to let him help. 

He gets Buck flicking water in his face for his troubles before he begrudgingly makes his way to the shower, a grin never leaving Eddie’s face all through his task.

The lunch Bobby and Athena insisted upon hosting the second they heard Chris was returning is their main agenda for the day.

The whole team will be there spouses and kids included, so when Eddie knocks on the door, Buck & Chris on either side of him, he feels light enough to float.

Bobby opens the door with a huge grin, surveying Chris with exaggerated awe, 

“Have you grown six inches since the last time I saw you? You’ll be catching up to your dad in no time.”

Chris gives a small laugh, secretly pleased but just thirteen enough not to want to show it.

The rest of the team isn’t far behind, all crowding as Chris walks in to greet him with hugs and excitement. Eddie’s smiling so wide he won’t be surprised if his face aches tonight.

By the time everything settles, Denny has grabbed Chris to play a video game Eddie’s never heard of in the other room, Jee following adorably behind to hang out with the older kids.

Usually, Eddie would try to get him to stay and socialize but he’s so happy they’re even in the same place that he doesn’t begin to try.

Bobby is quick to grab him, “Eddie, you want to help me man the grill?”

Eddie knows what that actually means; Bobby wants to talk. 

Everyone else knows, too, all subject to ‘manning the grill’ at one point or another, so they leave them on their own.

As he walks outside he takes a moment to appreciate the fact that this is something the California weather allows: a barbecue in the middle of December.

It takes Bobby a few minutes to bring it up, fitting in casual small talk between the flipping of burgers until:

“So, how are you doing?”

Eddie can’t fight his smile even if he wanted to, 

“I’m—It’s— I mean, he just got here, but so far, everything has been great. It’s so nice to have him with us.”

Eddie doesn’t notice the slip in his words until Bobby questions it, 

“Is Buck staying with you?”

It’s not as if that’s a new occurrence, so he’s not sure why Bobby’s question makes his face heat up so much.

They’re BuckAndEddie. One word. It’s what they do. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Even so, Eddie avoids eye contact, focusing on his task at the grill as he answers, 

“Yeah. We- I thought it might be easier for Chris to have Buck there. I don’t know. Like a buffer or something. Does that sound stupid?”

Bobby hums, “Not at all. It’s good Chris has Buck, too, but are you planning on talking to him one-on-one while he’s here?”

Eddie sighs, “I want to. I just— I don’t want anything to ruin his trip, You know? I don’t want to make him more upset than he already is.”

“I get that. You can feel it out as you go. He might need the talk as much as you do.”

“Thanks, Cap.” 

Bobby doesn’t acknowledge the thanks just steers them easily into lighter topics until the food is done. Something Eddie’s even more grateful for.

By the time they finish prepping all the food, Chris has made his way back downstairs, sitting next to Buck at the table, playfully swatting at him as he tries to ruffle his hair.

“C’mon, can you blame me for missing you so much? I’ve been severely lacking. Your dad won’t even watch nature documentaries with me.”

Chris rolls his eyes, 

“This problem could be solved if either of you had more than one friend.” 

Chimney jumps in from his seat across the table, 

“Amen, Chris. You’re preaching to the choir.”

Buck lets out a squawk of indignation at the same time that Eddie moves to sit between him and Chris at the table. 

“We have other friends,” Buck pouts, “Is this your way of telling me you don’t think we're friends Chim?”

“We’re related, Buckaroo. Doesn’t count.”

Buck huffs, “Don’t remind me.”

He starts to call to Hen from where she’s mixing the salad at the counter, but Chim jumps in before he can, 

“No one else from the 118 counts either.” 

Buck throws his hands up in faux exasperation, 

“For the record, Eddie isn’t even my best friend, it’s Chris. So there. Two friends.”

Chris rolls his eyes again, but the fondness is written all over his face, 

“Fine, I’ll give you that one. Dad doesn’t though.”

Eddie shrugs, “Don’t look at me. I never claimed to have other friends.”

Hen does come to sit down then, “Yeah, Chris. Your dad is happy being antisocial.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, preparing to respond, but Athena speaks before he can, 

“Ok, settle down, kids. Are we all ready to eat?”

Bobby clears his throat, “Before we dig in I just wanted to acknowledge our guest of honor tonight. It’s great to have you back for a bit Chris.”

The others raise their glasses in a cheesy show of agreement, Chris blushing with his eyes downcast as Buck reaches across to ruffle his hair once again.

Everyone moves on after that, digging into their food. Easy conversation and easy laughter the way it always is with this group.

Cake is brought out despite how full they all are because even though it’s not a birthday, in Maddie’s words, 

“What? It’s still a party. I had to make something.”

By the time the night is almost over Eddie’s heart feels full to bursting. 

Since he’s gotten here, Chris has made an effort not to be alone with Eddie, something he’s pretending not to notice for his sanity, so the sight of him walking down the stairs and straight toward him is enough to put his heart in his throat.

Get a grip. This is your kid.

Chris still avoids eye contact while he speaks, “Is it cool if we head home? I’m kind of tired.”

Eddie nods quickly before he even finishes asking the question, “Of course bud. Let me just go tell Buck okay?”

It’s then that Eddie remembers the time difference- only an hour between El Paso and LA but that, on top of a full day of travel yesterday and a night of being social, is enough for Chris’s tiredness to click.

Eddie makes his way toward the kitchen where he knows Maddie and Buck are finishing up the dishes, not even thinking to make his presence known as he enters. 

He catches them in the middle of a conversation just before he rounds the corner, Maddie laughing through her words, 

“Hey, no more blaming the puppy dog eyes solely on Jee. Your kid’s back now too and I didn’t see either of you denying him his third piece of cake.”

The thing is, he knows it’s a joke. Maddie said it as a joke. 

Logically, Eddie can recognize that. He just can’t seem to get the message to his body, frozen in place, before he comes to his senses and turns around so he won’t have to hear Buck’s response.

Your kid. Your kid. Your kid. 

Of course, Eddie has thought of Chris as Buck’s before. That’s inevitable, what with the way he’s such an integral part of their lives. It’s not a new concept. It would be weirder if the idea hadn’t crossed his mind before given how often people in Chris’s life simply assume it.

He can’t count the amount of times he’s had to correct people at Chris’s school. At parent-teacher conferences. Bake sales. The PTA meetings Buck drags him to.

It’s fine. Whatever. Maddie made a joke. That’s what siblings do; they tease each other. 

In an instant, he steels himself, turns back around toward the kitchen, and calls ahead,

“Buck? Chris wants to head out.”

A warning: stop talking. Don’t say anything else I’m not supposed to hear.

There’s the sound of water splashing, something dropping in the sink, and then Buck is around the corner, Maddie close behind, wiping his hands dry with a dishtowel,

“Perfect timing!” He glances back at Maddie, “We just finished.”

Buck’s smiling, but it looks- off. Different than any other smile he’s seen on his face tonight. 

Maddie’s smiling too, less stiff, more natural,

“Do you guys want to take some cake home? I can’t handle the sugar rush Jee will get if I do. The candy Santa’s bringing is more than enough.”

Buck laughs, still off-kilter in a way Eddie can’t decipher, “Is that even a question? Me and Chris will demolish that thing.”

So, cake is packed in Tupperware. Everyone spends too long at the door trading goodbyes as if they won’t see each other in a few days for a shift. Day has turned to night without them realizing it until they step outside.

It always seems to go that way when they all get together, time passing faster than they know what to do with. So caught up in each other.

Christopher was telling the truth about being tired because an hour later, when they’re home and settled, and Eddie peeks into his room, he’s asleep on his bed, lights and glasses still on.

Eddie slowly moves forward, taking his glasses off and setting them carefully on his bedside table, grabbing the throw blanket from the end of his bed to drape over him and shutting off the light.

His hand hovers in the air over him, wanting to brush back his curls but not wanting to chance Chris waking up.

In the end, he decides against it. Just another thing to add to his growing list of self-punishments.

***

“Don’t you guys have to go back to work?”

They’ve been here for well over half an hour at this point. Chris is perusing the aisles of Christmas trees they pass as he asks the question. Pointing at ones for Buck to hold up to survey until he decides whether or not he’s made the perfect choice.

“We were able to get most of your break off. That’s the perk of never taking vacations,” Buck jokes.

“Just half-shifts,” Eddie reassures. 

They’d gotten lucky with that. Or, Buck had gotten lucky. 

He’d sat the team down without Eddie’s knowledge and figured out a schedule to make this whole thing possible. 

Eddie loves him so much he’s sick with it.

“What do you think of this one Chris?”

Buck holds up the tree like a game show host, oohing and ahhing as he turns it this way and that so they can see it from all angles.

Chris takes a second, always so meticulous when it comes to their Christmas tree, but whatever he sees, he must like because he nods,

“I think that’s it.”

As they make their way toward the exit Chris points out the springs of mistletoe for sale by the register,

“Why would people even buy that?”

“Hey!” Buck pouts, “Don’t knock it till you try it. My first kiss was under one of those.”

Eddie huffs, half-joking, “Please don’t encourage my thirteen-year-old to try mistletoe.” 

Chris giggles, “So you’re saying she only kissed you because of the mistletoe?”

Buck gawks at him, “I’ll have you know. Allie Landry wanted to kiss me way before the mistletoe incident. The mistletoe just made it happen.”

Chris grins, “Whatever you say.”

Buck turns toward Eddie, a mischievous look in his eyes, “What was your first kiss, Eddie? Bet it wasn’t as romantic as mistletoe at a Christmas party.”

Eddie’s chest seizes at the memory, and he’s talking before he even realizes he’s going to say it, “It was— uh. Luke Richards. In the seventh grade. After baseball practice.”

That’s the first time Eddie’s ever said that out loud. Always falls back on his first kiss with Shannon as an easier default.

It was one of those things past Eddie liked to pretend never happened. He’d felt so sick afterward, ripped himself away from him and ran off. 

The next day, Eddie found out Luke had quit the team. A pit in his stomach.

Chris hums, “I always thought it was with mom.”

Eddie glances at him, the confusion written all over his face,

“Well, she was my second kiss. She was the first one that really counted.”

“Even though she was a girl?”

Chris is only asking out of pure curiosity, but the question still stops him short. They haven’t talked much about Eddie’s sexuality beyond the fact that he’s gay. By the time he came to terms with it, Chris was already in Texas.

It was all over FaceTime, Buck, next to him, a steady presence. He’d answered the questions Chris had at the time, but they were speaking so sporadically at that point Eddie’s not even sure he would’ve asked more questions if he did have any.

Eddie takes a second to think the question over as they all pile into the car,

“Yeah. Even though she was a girl, she was still my best friend. I still loved her. You know that, right?”

Chris nods. They’ve gone over this before, but he’ll reiterate it as many times as he needs to.

It’s quiet after that, the ride home soundtracked by the Christmas playlist Buck keeps on a constant loop.

When Chris gets out of the car, Buck sets a hand on Eddie’s forearm, thumb rubbing gently back and forth, holding him back from exiting, 

“You good?”

Eddie nods, though he’s not sure how true that is. Buck must be able to tell because he levels him with a look,

“It’s okay if you’re not. We can talk about it later.”

And, isn’t that something? To have someone in his life that Eddie can talk about the bad stuff with, someone to shoulder things when he can’t. 

He’s sure all the love he feels has to be showing on his face right now, oozing out of his pores, filling the air around them until they suffocate. 

If it is, Buck isn’t taking notice because he simply smiles- the one he seems to save only for Eddie, squeezing his arm and getting out of the truck.

Eddie is so fucked.

***

They do talk about it, eventually. Once Chris has gone to hide away in his room, the loud sound of the video game he’s playing echoes even through his shut door.

They’re sitting on the couch, beers in hand, in the dark. They’d turned off the overhead lights when Eddie plugged in the ones for the Christmas tree upon Buck’s insistence, “For dramatic effect!”

Now, the only light comes from the colorful string on the tree, bathing them in a glow of rainbow.

Buck is the first to break the silence,

“I never decorated a real tree until you guys.”

It’s so out of left field that Eddie doesn’t know how to respond other than to make a questioning noise, so Buck elaborates,

“My parents always had fake ones, and we weren’t allowed to help decorate. They looked like they were out of a catalog by the time my mom finished.”

Eddie huffs, “That’s not surprising at all.”

“One year, I was really pissed at her, I can’t even remember why now, but I went into the living room and grabbed this big glass ornament she told me to never touch.” 

“I’m sure that went over great.”

Buck lets out a humorous laugh, “I broke it, of course. And I was so worried she’d find out, so I tried to pick up the pieces too fast and got this gash in my hand.”

Buck turns his hand over as he speaks, pointing to a spot on his palm Eddie’s never noticed before.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches forward to trace it with his finger, back and forth, committing it to memory.

“Anyway,  point is, I like your tree a lot more than any of the other ones I’ve had.”

Eddie has a lot he wants to ask. He wants to know how his parents reacted, but he’s pretty sure he can guess. He wants to know if he had to get stitches or if he suffered through it on his own.

He knows so much about Buck, but each time he hears a new story, it reminds him of how much he doesn’t know. How much he wants to learn. Everything.

Buck is speaking again before Eddie can think of a way to phrase what he wants to say,

“Sorry if I like— opened up a can of worms with the whole first kiss thing.”

Eddie huffs, begrudgingly taking his hand off Buck’s palm to flick him on the shoulder,

“Shut up. Only you would apologize for something like that. It’s fine.”

Buck doesn’t look like he believes him, so he continues,

“I would’ve told him either way eventually. I could’ve just lied and said Shannon if I wanted. That’s what I used to do.”

“Was he the only guy you kissed?” Buck winces then like he hadn’t meant to ask, “I mean— You don’t have to tell me. Tommy is the only guy I’ve kissed it’s not like— weird.”

The mention of Tommy sits like a rock at the bottom of Eddie’s stomach,

“Yeah, just him.”

“Do you want to—“ 

Eddie freezes at the start of Buck’s sentence. Surely, he’s not about to ask what that sounds like.

“—I mean, do you want to kiss someone else? Like, go on dates?” Buck groans, “God, I worded that so weird, this beer is hitting me more than I thought it would.”

He wants to call him out, wants to mention the fact that Buck’s only taken a few sips- Eddie would know. Eyes laser-focused on his mouth by default any time he takes a drink. It’s becoming an issue. 

How is Eddie supposed to answer that question? It’s not as if he can say the truth: Yes, Buck. I do want to kiss someone else. You. In fact, I can’t go two seconds without thinking about it. It eats me up inside. I love you so much I don’t know how to hold it all. I don’t know where to put it.

Yeah, that’s a great idea.

He clears his throat, “I mean, yes. In theory. I just— With everything going on with Chris, I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

And that’s partially true. Not a full lie, at least.

He takes a second to consider what a normal not-in-love best friend would do next, and then,

“What about you? It’s been a few months since Tommy. Do you want to date again?”

Eddie holds his breath, dreading the answer.

“Yes,” Buck teases, “In theory.” A repeat of Eddie’s words.

He knows he should ask more, dig deeper, try to get a real answer out of him. It’s what he would’ve done before he realized his feelings, but the thought of doing that only exacerbates the pit in his stomach, so he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans back, lets their shoulders brush, and pretends not to notice the way the reflection of the Christmas lights is making Buck’s eyes glitter.

***

 The first day Buck has a shift that leaves Eddie and Chris home alone has been perfectly planned to the minute.

It’s not that Eddie doesn’t want to have one-on-one time with Chris. Of course, he does. But the second Chris realized Buck would be out of the house for twelve hours, thus leaving him alone with Eddie, he’d gone into panic mode.

Eddie pretended not to notice the way he’d pulled Buck out of the room soon after, their whispered words, the tense tone of Chris’s voice.

This is to be expected, Chris is still angry with Eddie. He has every right to be. It’s Eddie’s fault that Chris is no longer comfortable with him. These are the consequences of his actions.

Buck had sent Eddie guilty glances the rest of the night, called Maddie, and made a plan so they wouldn’t have too much free time between Buck’s return.

He’d tried apologizing, but Eddie wouldn’t hear it, “I get it, Buck. You don’t need to explain.”

In all honesty, Eddie’s grateful for it. Even if that makes him a coward. He just wants things to go smoothly for Chris, no road bumps in the form of Eddie.

That leads them to now. 

They’re at the mall under the guise of Christmas shopping. Really just a distraction tactic, Jee asleep in Maddie’s arms when another new truth is revealed:

“Buck believed in Santa till he was thirteen.”

Chris practically gapes, his face splitting into a grin, “Tell me you’re lying.”

Maddie’s smiling too, “I swear.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, trying to quell his expression. Morph it into something acceptable for the situation instead of the glaring neon sign of: ‘I’m In Love With Evan Buckley!’ That it usually is.

He suspects by now that Maddie at least has an inkling about his feelings. She’s always sending him these knowing glances that he doesn’t get from anyone else. He doesn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.

“I can’t believe you just willingly offered that information. You just gave Chris years of ammunition,” Eddie says through his grin.

“It was cute!” Maddie defends, “Plus, I got to eat chocolate chip cookies every Christmas Eve. Win-win.”

And, right. That tracks. Maddie was the one who created the magic of Santa for Buck. It’s not exactly something he could ever see the Buckley parents doing willingly.

Eddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket, taking him out of the conversation:

Buck: hows it going!! :)

The message makes Eddie smile even wider. He can’t count the number of times Chris has made fun of Buck for his texting skills, “You know your phone comes with emojis, Buck. You don’t have to type it out every time.”

Eddie: Fine. Plan ‘Use Your Sister As A Buffer’ is working.

Buck: yay! ill be home by dinner dont let chris start the movie without me

Buck: you’ve got this :)

Looking at Buck’s words, for the first time all day, Eddie starts to believe that maybe he does.

Then, of course, it all goes to shit.

Their plan of spending the day with Maddie is put to an abrupt halt when Jee wakes up from her nap with complaints of a stomachache. The small stomachache quickly evolves into signs of a stomach flu. 

Maddie understandably rushes her home, with a squeeze on Eddie’s arm and a whispered,

“I am so sorry.”

And it’s fine. Really. Eddie knows how to be around his kid.

He tries to think on the spot, throwing out ideas of plans that Chris would usually love. No to the movies. No to ice cream. No to the arcade he’d begged to go to for weeks, not even a year ago.

“We can just go home. It’s not a big deal.”

But if he was to go solely off the way Chris looks right now, it sure seems like a big deal. His entire body is stiff in the passenger seat next to Eddie, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Are you sure? We could try that new burger place, Buck—“

Christopher cuts him off, “Not hungry.”

Eddie tries not to let his discomfort show, steels himself, and starts the drive home.

He’s tapping anxiously against the steering wheel when he speaks again,

“There’s one perk of Buck not being here.” 

Eddie’s smiling, trying to entice Chris to join in on the conversation, but it’s a futile effort, so he moves forward alone, “You can pick the music.”

Every time Chris and Buck are in the car together, it’s always a war for who gets to pick the music. 

Buck puts up a good front, but Eddie sees right through him. Nine times out of ten, he concedes to Chris’s wishes. Always grumbling in a cute and completely false way that sends Chris into giggles.

Chris doesn’t even look at him as he speaks; just continues staring out the window, 

“No, thanks.”

Eddie’s grasping at straws, at a complete loss of how to break through to him. So, without any other options, he turns on the radio to fill the silent ride home, lost in his thoughts the whole way.

As soon as they get through the front door, Chris makes a beeline for his bedroom, shutting the door with a loud bang. Eddie alone once again.

***

Eddie has never been much of a baker. His abuela had tried to teach him so many times growing up, but it had never seemed to stick. 

But then, the first Christmas after Shannon left El Paso, Chris had started sobbing when Eddie mentioned setting out chocolate chip cookies for Santa.

He was a complete mess and only wanted one thing. The Christmas cookies Shannon would bake every year. 

No matter how many times Eddie insisted that Santa would understand, that it didn’t have to be that exact cookie, it only made Chris cry harder.

Eddie had never learned the recipe. Shannon was always playfully evasive about it, “It’s a family secret! I’ll tell Chris when he’s older.”

But Shannon was gone, along with the recipe for the only thing Chris had wanted for Christmas.

Logically, Eddie knew Chris wasn’t crying about the cookies. He’d wanted Shannon- didn’t know how to express that in any other way. But Eddie had made it his mission to figure out the recipe anyway.

They seemed fairly simple- sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, but each time Eddie made them Chris insisted they weren’t right.

Eddie was at the end of his rope, yet another batch not up to Chris’s standards, so he’d made a last-ditch effort: Went up and down the candy aisle at the grocery store and told Chris he could pick out as much as he wanted.

Not his proudest moment, but he was desperate. 

He’d tried to make it a fun activity. Took the base of the sugar cookie and the sprinkles and let Chris add as many different candies as he wanted to the batter.

They hadn’t been the best-tasting things in the world, and they hadn’t been Shannon’s, but at the end of it all, Chris was so excited to be allowed to eat that much sugar at once that he hadn’t minded.

They’ve been making the cookies every Christmas since.

Eddie already had all the ingredients on hand even before Chris decided to come for Christmas. He’d been wistful, thought that maybe if he baked the cookies, it would help him feel closer to Chris.

But now, Chris is here. Camped out in his room, avoiding Eddie, but here. So he’s going back to his roots: using baked goods to bribe his kid into happiness.

It worked all those years ago; he figures it can’t hurt to try it again.

He puts on Buck’s Christmas playlist and gets to work rolling out the dough and adding the sprinkles, the only recipe he knows by heart.

He’s in the middle of surveying all the candy options he’s purchased when he hears Chris enter the kitchen.

He tries to play it off nonchalantly. He lets Chris go to the fridge for a drink and pretends he isn’t hyper-aware of every move he’s making. 

For a moment, Eddie thinks his plan has failed. Chris heads back in the direction of his bedroom, but then he stops, turns around,

“You’re making Mom’s sugar cookies?”

The words make Eddie bite at his cheek to hide his smile. Despite the glaring differences in recipes, that’s what Chris has always called them: Mom’s sugar cookies. 

After Shannon was back in their lives, Chris had talked her ear off about them kept going on and on about how good her sugar cookies were. She’d come over to help bake them that year and had to disguise her shock when Chris showed her the ingredients.

The memory still makes Eddie laugh.

 “Yeah, you want in? I haven’t picked the candy for this batch yet.”

Eddie holds his breath, heart racing out of his chest over the simple prospect of baking with his son, but whatever. No one has to know that but him.

Chris shrugs, “I guess I could help.”

Time passes quickly after that. Eddie and Chris make various variations, testing different candies together to decide what they like best. 

It’s always been one of Eddie’s favorite parts of the Christmas season, but this year, it feels like his happiness is dialed up to eleven. If he didn’t know any better, he could almost convince himself things are normal.

Baking side by side while Chris makes fun of Eddie’s cookie-forming skills and flicks him with flour every time he makes a bad joke, just like always. It’s the most normal he’s felt with him since before ‘The Incident,’ as Eddie’s brain has aptly named it. 

They’re so wrapped up in it all that by the time Buck walks through the door, Eddie has to do a double-take, no idea of the time.

Buck is obviously surprised to find them together, shooting Eddie a beaming smile and a covert thumbs up when Chris isn’t looking. He barely gives himself time to set his duffel bag down before he rushes to the kitchen,

“Shannon’s cookies? Tell me you haven’t done a savory batch yet, that’s my favorite one to make!”

Chris rolls his eyes fondly, “As if we don’t know that, Buck. You make it every year.”

Eddie can’t imagine what his face must be doing right now, wouldn’t be surprised if he looked at his reflection to find actual hearts as eyes, 

“We saved it for you, don’t worry.”

The savory version had been Buck’s idea when he’d joined in on their tradition: sugar cookie batter, pretzels, and potato chips. Eddie had been wary at first, not just of the flavor combination but also of what Christopher would think of them changing up the recipe. 

But of course, because even now, but especially as an eight-year-old, Chris thought anything Buck did was the best thing in the world, it hadn’t been an issue. Buck’s version had slotted right in with the tradition, just as smoothly as he’d slotted himself in their lives.

They finally finish what turns out to be an absurd amount of cookies for three people to eat, but that’s to be expected.

Every year, it ends up like this: they get carried away with the flavor variations, and every year, Eddie thinks they won’t be able to eat them all. Though somehow, without fail, every time January rolls around, there are no cookies in sight.

“I think these might be our best ones yet,” Buck says the words through a mouthful of cookies, and God, Eddie’s got it bad because even the sight of that does nothing to quell the warmth in his chest.

Chris grimaces, “You’re gonna choke if you don’t slow down.”

Buck does swallow then, makes a big show of it just to make Chris laugh, and then points his finger accusingly towards him, 

“I can’t believe you, Christopher Diaz, of all people, are calling me out for talking with my mouth full.”

Chris rolls his eyes, so Buck continues his point, “Eds, back me up, how many times have I had to endure that ‘Do you like seafood?’ joke?”

Chris is fighting a smile, but he stands his ground, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Buck gets a devious look in his eyes, and Eddie knows what he’s about to do before he does it, “You want me to jog your memory?”

Before Chris can stop him, Buck stuffs another piece of cookie in his mouth. “Do you like seafood, Chris?”

Chris backs away slowly, hands held out defensively,  “Don’t you dare.”

Buck stalks toward him, and then Chris tries to turn away, but his back hits the countertop, nowhere else to go. 

He screeches as Buck gets up in his face and sticks his tongue out, “You’re so gross!”

As much as Chris pretends to hate it, he’s giggling the whole time, playfully shoving Buck away as he finally closes his mouth.

Buck’s grin is just as bright as Chris’s, “See, food. That was payback.”

Chris groans, “I did that when I was like seven. How old are you again?”

Eddie feels like he’s glowing. Like the love he has for both of them is overflowing. 

Naturally, as he tends to do around Chris lately, he messes everything up less than an hour later.  

Buck is lying across the couch, feet resting in Eddie’s lap, reading aloud from his new copy of, ‘Chess for Dummies.’ A purchase he’d made the second he’d found out Chris was joining the chess club. Always eager to learn about the topics Chris cares about with a level of ferocity previously unknown to man.

In all honesty, Eddie is pretty tuned out. Mostly focusing on the curve of Buck’s smile, the way his tongue slides out to wet his lips between paragraphs.

The bright sound of Chris’s teasing each time Buck doesn’t know something that is apparently, “So obvious Buck.”

So when Eddie tries to join the conversation and take an interest, tries to be supportive, he’s truly not expecting it to go sideways.

It’s a throwaway comment after Chris has just finished telling Buck all about the fun activities they do in the club. All of the extracurriculars his school offers,

“That sounds great, bud, I see why you love being in Texas so much.”

He’s not even telling the truth is the thing. Eddie had gone to the same school. Sure, there’s no doubt it’s probably changed in the years since then, but he still doesn’t get what Chris seems to love about it.

Texas, in general, isn’t ever a place he’d thought Chris would thrive in. He’d thought they were similar in that way. Apparently, Eddie knows him even less than he thought he did because every single thing Chris has said about Texas since he’s gotten here is some form of a compliment.

Still, his comment is harmless, but by the expression that flashes across Chris’s face, you would think Eddie slapped him.

Right after he says it, Chris is standing up with an angry furrow on his brow,

“I’m going to my room. Night, Buck.” And nothing for Eddie.

The second Chris leaves the room, Buck snaps his head over to make eye contact with him, mouthing out, “What the fuck?” Careful not to say the words out loud with Chris still in earshot.

Okay, so Eddie’s not crazy. That’s good to know, at least. He hasn’t exactly been confident in his sanity lately as it is.

He waits a bit before he tries to talk to Chris, making his way toward his room with a light knock.

He’s barely peeked his head in before Chris is speaking, his back turned away on his bed,

“I don’t want to talk right now, Dad.”

Eddie looks toward the ceiling in exasperation,

“Chris, can you just tell me what I did so I know how to fix it? I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Chris mumbles.

“Chris-“

Chris’s tone is sharp cold, “Can you just drop it? I’m tired.”

Eddie sighs, not wanting to give up but not wanting to upset Chris further,

“Goodnight. I love you.”

He doesn’t get a response.

***

When Eddie wakes the next morning, he has to give himself a pep talk, already expecting things to be stilted with Chris again right when he’d thought they were slowly moving to more solid ground.

To make matters worse, Buck is out of the house again today. 

Months ago, Maddie and Chim had booked a night at a beach house for something fun to do with Jee. At the last minute, though, Chim caught the stomach bug that Jee had just recovered from. 

Maddie mentioned it offhand yesterday on a call with Buck. She was planning to cancel, overwhelmed at the idea of going alone with Jee, so naturally, Buck volunteered to join so they wouldn’t have to miss it.

That was, of course, earlier in the day, all before Eddie’s slip-up the night before. 

He’d invited them to tag along if they wanted, but Eddie didn’t feel right about it. Buck has barely had any time alone with himself, let alone quality time with Maddie.

He’s glad Buck decided to go. He’s less glad about the cold shoulder routine he’s getting from Chris. He’s barely said more than two words to Eddie all day.

It would be one thing if Eddie knew what the issue was. He’d run the moment back in his head over and over the night before, trying to see where he’d gone wrong but unable to come up with an answer no matter how long he thought about it.

He’s obviously made some sort of a mistake, but he doesn’t know how to begin to fix it on top of everything else.

Chris has been in his room for the majority of the day, and Eddie’s spent most of it trying to talk to him in the rare times he does leave the room for something.

At some point during his stint parked on the couch, Eddie must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s blinking his eyes open, and the room is significantly darker, afternoon having made its way straight into the evening.

He groans, cracking his back as he sits up, disoriented. 

He figures it’s been long enough for him to attempt to talk to Chris again, so he heads in the direction of his bedroom, sees the light on under the door, and taps lightly, waiting for a response,

“Mijo? Can we talk?” His voice is gravelly, rough from having just woken up.

Chris doesn’t say anything, but he’d expected that, trying again, 

“Just for a minute, bud.”

He slowly turns the doorknob and is only going to peek his head in, but when he does, the room is empty.

Something settles like a rock in Eddie’s gut.

He walks down the hall into the living room again, calls out, 

“Chris?” Still nothing.

Eddie’s heart starts to speed up, but he tries to calm himself down, checking every area of the house until it’s abundantly clear that Chris isn’t here.

He doesn’t realize how panicked he is until his breathing starts to get shallow. Did he run away again? Did he already call Eddie’s parents? Something worse?

He immediately dials Chris’s number, and it goes straight to voicemail, doing nothing to help the dread he can feel creeping in, his brain taking him straight to worst-case scenarios.

Next up is Buck, who answers the phone after two rings, completely at ease,

“Hey, you’re on speaker. Can you please tell Mads that—“

Eddie’s voice is shaky, panicked, “Chris is gone.”

Buck sounds confused, immediately taking him off speaker and putting the phone to his ear,

“Yeah? He’s sleeping over at Hen and Karen’s. He told me he—” Buck pauses, then groans, “He didn’t ask you, did he?”

“No,” Eddie huffs, “He didn’t.”

Buck lets out a frustrated noise,  “I called him earlier to ask why you weren’t responding to my texts, and he told me you weren’t together. He said you dropped him off.”

Right, Eddie’s nap. Buck must’ve texted somewhere between that and Chris showing up at Hen’s. He doesn’t even know what time it is now. Hadn’t bothered to check in his panic. 

Eddie clenches his jaw, not responding, trying to tamp down on the anger that’s already transitioning into sadness.

Buck’s upset, too, he sounds disappointed more than anything else,

“Stay there, okay? I’ll go to Hen’s and get him. He can’t just lie to both of us like that. This isn’t like him.”

Normally, Eddie would agree, normally, he knows Chris inside and out. But lately? How can he even pretend to know what Chris is like when the time he spends with him is short and through a screen?

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, “Don’t say anything. Just let him stay, we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“What?”

Eddie can feel himself getting choked up, “Look, if I try to talk to him when I feel like this, it’s only going to make things worse. I’ll sort myself out tonight, it’s fine.”

He’s frustrated, sure. Upset that Chris would lie like that, especially to Buck, but more than anything else, he’s upset with himself.

If Eddie hadn’t kicked this whole thing off in the first place, none of this would be happening. Chris would trust him, things would be normal, and he wouldn’t feel the need to lie to Buck just for a chance to get away from Eddie.

It’s obvious he isn’t doing a good job of hiding his feelings because Buck jumps in with a solution right away,

“I can be back in an hour. We’ll get takeout, what sounds good?”

Eddie laughs softly, appreciative, 

“Buck, no. Did you forget you only have one car? You’re not leaving your family just because I’m a little upset.”

Buck makes a protesting noise, so Eddie continues,

“It might be good to have some alone time, anyway. I need to wrap your and Chris’s gifts.” 

Eddie leaves out the part where he’d wrapped most of them weeks ago. Preparing to have to mail Chris’s all the way to Texas.

He tries to make his voice upbeat believable, “You’re back tomorrow anyway. It’s okay.”

Buck sighs, unconvinced but not wanting to push, “Eat some dinner, please. Not just snacks.  I know how you get.”

Eddie chuckles, “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious. Don’t test me. I’ll check the trash for evidence, and if I see even one chip bag, you’re dead.”

Eddie grins, always amazed at how light Buck can make him feel, even when he’s at his worst, 

“You act like I won’t just throw it out somewhere else. It’s trash day tomorrow; I have a whole neighborhood to choose from.”

Buck’s voice gets serious then, low and warm, 

“You need me there, and I’ll come straight over. I don’t care what time it is.”

Eddie can’t keep the love out of his voice, doesn’t even try, 

“I know you will. Thank you.”

They hang up after that, and Eddie forces himself to stand. He’s not hungry but begrudgingly heats leftover soup that Buck had made a couple of days prior just to have something in his stomach.

All in all, he holds up longer than he expected himself to.

He busies himself with menial tasks, cleaning the dishes from his hasty dinner, tidying the kitchen, and wrapping the few gifts he hasn’t, so Buck will think he managed to do something productive tonight.

It takes longer than he expects it to. He puts on the podcast Buck’s been nagging him to listen to as background noise, and by the time he’s finished, he thinks he’s in the clear. Manages to convince himself that he’ll make it through the night only minorly scathed.

It isn’t until he’s kneeling to put down the presents that he sees it. He hadn’t even realized it was on the tree. Buck or Chris must’ve hung it without him noticing.

The ornament is old, something Shannon had given Eddie when he’d gotten back from his deployment. After the first Christmas that he and Shannon hadn’t been able to spend together.

It’s a picture of Shannon holding Chris. Surrounding the photo is a small frame of ‘Baby’s 1st Christmas- 2011.’ 

Eddie remembers receiving it when he’d gotten back, the tug in his chest that had felt more like a stab wound. Looking at it now gives him a remarkably similar sensation. 

How has his life gotten here? How has he managed to fuck things up so catastrophically? What would Shannon think of him? Losing their son the way he has.

It’s not as if he’s never cried about the mess he’s turned his life into, far from it. 

The first few weeks after Chris left, Eddie had felt practically catatonic. He wouldn’t have made it out if Buck hadn’t been there with him to shoulder the burden. 

It’s just- he hasn’t cried like this over it in a while, not since the beginning. Great heaving sobs, shallow breath, nausea so bad as a result of the crying, he has to fear what little he’s eaten making its way back up.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, cross-legged next to the tree, but it’s long enough that his tear tracks have dried on his face in salty trails. Eyes swollen, face flushed to all hell- snot and tears and saliva. 

Even the noise of the key in the lock isn’t enough to make him move. So completely worn out that he doesn’t do a thing to hide it. It’s not as if Buck hasn’t seen him like this and worse before.

“I told you not to come, Buck. How is Maddie supposed to get home tomorrow?” 

He’s only partially serious, knowing Buck he’s already figured out a solution. He would never leave Maddie hanging like that.

He knows it must be hard to decipher anything he’s saying, what with the stuffed-up nasally tone of his voice, so when Buck doesn’t respond right away, he doesn’t think anything of it.

Then, “Um— It’s me.”

Chris’s voice makes Eddie shoot up, swiping quickly at his face in what he knows must be a futile effort. He can’t imagine what he looks like right now.

He realizes then that Buck must’ve given Chris his key to use while he’s here. Always thinking ahead, preparing for the worst. Eddie loves him for that, but he also wishes he’d known so this exact scenario wasn’t currently playing out in front of him.

“Chris.” His tone is flat, resigned. Drained from all the energy his crying took from him, “Thought you were spending the night at Denny’s.”

Chris at least has it in him to look guilty, not meeting Eddie’s eyes, “So I guess Buck told you.”

Eddie gives a dry laugh, humorless, “Did you actually expect him not to when I called him freaking out?”

Chris winces, “I wasn’t—I was going to tell you. I was just— waiting a little.”

“Right.”

He’s defensive then, “I was! My phone died, and then Denny distracted me with the—“ He stops, then lets out a groan, “I didn’t mean to make you—that’s why I came back, okay? I told Hen I wanted to go home.”

Chris is looking at him expectantly after that, as if he expects his words to solve everything.

Eddie simply nods, too low on energy to even begin to deal with this tonight,

“I’m going to bed. We can talk in the morning when Buck’s back.”

He turns then expects Chris to be relieved, but instead, he sounds the opposite,

“Dad, wait.” 

It’s a tone he hasn’t heard directed at himself in months, enough to make him turn back around,

“I— is that why you’ve been crying so much?” 

He gestures toward Eddie’s well, everything. And yeah, It’s not exactly as if Eddie can pretend he hasn’t been.

He doesn’t even know how to answer that question; everything is so wrapped up in a million different layers.

“Not entirely. It’s not—don’t worry about it, Chris. I was just having a moment.”

Chris gestures again, “Looks like longer than a moment.”

Eddie steels himself to speak. How can he expect Chris to tell the truth if he won’t do the same in return?

He starts, “I’m not telling you this, so you’ll feel sorry for me. I’m saying this because my actions are the reason you felt the need to do this in the first place, and you deserve honesty from me.”

Chris’s expression falters for a second as if he hadn’t actually expected Eddie to respond. He nods in acknowledgment, so Eddie continues,

“I know that everything that’s led up to this is entirely my fault. Not just everything with you, it’s more than that. Things I’m working on on my own and with Frank.” 

Eddie heaves a sigh, “Things to do with your mom. With my—” he swallows roughly, “—my sexuality. It’s all tied together in a lot of ways that I know I need to unpack. I’m still making sense of it, and sometimes, I need a second to let things out. In a healthy way. To mourn things, I guess.”

He shrugs, “Even when the things I’m crying about are my own fault. So—” he gestures toward his face, “–that’s why I guess.”

Chris gets an odd look on his face, then mumbles, “It’s not all your fault.”

Eddie’s sure he must not have heard him correctly, “What?”

“I mean, some of it is, obviously. But not like— being gay or whatever. That’s not something you chose.”

Eddie had previously thought he’d cried every single tear out of his body for at least a year, but within seconds, his eyes are already welling up again.

Chris looks uncomfortable but continues,

“Mom would’ve gotten it, too. I think. If you would’ve told her you liked dudes.” He shrugs, shrinks in on himself, “I mean, maybe not it’s not like I knew her that well, but—“

Eddie lets out a watery sound, not a sob but close, “You did know her well, Chris. Better than I did some days.”

Chris is tearing up, too, swiping quickly underneath his eyes like Eddie won’t notice if he does it fast enough.

“I’m just saying if you’re gonna rag on yourself, don’t rag on yourself for the gay thing. You’ve got lots of other options to choose from.”

Chris makes it clear he’s teasing, gives Eddie a smirk, and Eddie lets out his first chuckle of the whole night, “Duly noted. Thanks.”

Eddie pauses, switches his tone to something more serious,

“Hey— about the gay thing.” He chuckles, “I know we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it besides—“

He makes a vague gesture with his hands as if to say, The incredibly uncomfortable FaceTime call we had and continues,

“Just— if there’s ever anything you want to know or ask. You can. Any time.”

Chris bites his lip as if he’s debating something in his head and then nods,

“Is it rude to say I kind of figured?”

Eddie coughs, choking on his saliva in the surprise of the words, “You did?”

He shrugs, nonchalant when Eddie’s world feels like it’s been flipped on its side,

“I guess— not technically. I just thought— when you and Buck FaceTimed me and said you wanted to tell me something—”

He shrugs again, “I thought maybe since Buck and Tommy broke up, you were gonna say you were together? And I was like, oh. That kind of makes sense.”

And what? Eddie’s heart rate has skyrocketed at an incredibly concerning rate. He’s at a loss for words.

“—But then you were just gay, which is cool too.”

Okay, that’s a lot to unpack. Like millions of dollars worth of therapy sessions with Frank amount of things to unpack, but Eddie’s only stuck on one word. He blurts it out before he can think,

“Too?”

Chris gives him a confused look, which, okay, fair.

He clears his throat, “I just mean. You said me being gay was cool, too. You would’ve thought it was cool if me and Buck had said we were together?”

Chris takes a second to think about it, and then,

“I mean— sure, like in general. Buck’s the best, and he’s at the house with us all the time anyway.” 

Eddie’s heart leaps at the mention of Chris calling the house their house. Eddie’s and Chris’s together. 

“Not— if you would’ve told me, then I probably would’ve yelled at you about it, but like, secretly thought it was kind of cool.”

Eddie lets out a bark of a laugh, so completely on the opposite end of the spectrum with Chris than he was not even five minutes ago.

Chris’s face gets serious then, like the flip of a switch,

“Uh— how much trouble am I in?”

And, right. Eddie had almost forgotten the entire reason they were having this conversation. He feels like he’s floating outside his body. 

Chris would be okay with him and Buck. Not that they’re— not that they ever will. But— it is nice to know, at least. As a general rule. No other reason whatsoever.

“How about we call ourselves even? I think you get a pass this once, considering.

Eddie knows he should technically be more strict on this. It wasn’t okay, but Chris seems to know that. Considering the circumstances, Eddie’s grateful the worst he’s done is run away to Hen’s instead of the alternative of sending his parents out here again.

“I do think you should apologize to Buck, though.”

Chris winces, “Buck’s mad at me too?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No one’s mad, just disappointed. He’s not used to you not telling him things.”

Chris groans, “You know that’s so much worse.”

Eddie shrugs, “And you know not to do it again.”

He nods, seeming to take it well enough.

If this was less than a year ago, now would be when Eddie would reach out to hug him. He’s not sure how well received that would be right now, though, no matter how well their conversation has gone.

One nice moment doesn’t erase all the months of disastrous ones.

He thinks he’s made the right call because Chris seems to come back to himself all at once as caution shutters over his previously open face, 

“Night, Dad.”

Eddie sleeps a full night for the first time in months.

***

It’s not as though things are back to normal after their talk. 

Chris had woken up the next day and didn’t even acknowledge it. His eyes were on his feet as he’d made a bowl of cereal. Seemingly still just as wary around Eddie as before.

Things don’t go back to normal, but Eddie is starting to think they’re heading in at least as normal a direction as can be expected, considering everything.

He doesn’t kid himself. He knows at the end of this trip, Chris is heading back to Texas. Doesn’t even let himself entertain any other scenario because it’s not realistic.

Chris likes it in Texas. Eddie’s heard the things he’s told Buck. He’s making friends in his classes. He’s joined the chess club. He spends quality time with Eddie’s parents. He thinks a girl in the neighborhood is cute. He’s finally getting used to the weather.

With each day that passes, Christmas gets nearer and nearer, and with it, the day that Chris will leave. Every time he thinks about it, it feels like someone is pressing bricks on top of his chest.

As much as it kills him, Eddie won’t disturb the life Chris has made in Texas. Not when it seems like just what Chris needs. Not when he’s finally settled.

He knows that’s exactly what his parents are afraid of: Chris changing his mind wanting to come home.

They’ve reached out to Eddie more in the time Chris has been here than any other time since Chris got to El Paso. Constant texts from his mother, checking in, making sure things are going well.

In reality, Eddie knows she’s just trying to gauge how well they’re getting along so she can manage her expectations. 

He knows he needs to make the most of the time they have together now. So, to be clear, Eddie’s not happy about having to spend a night without Christopher. Especially considering how short his trip is. He is, however, happy to spend a night alone with Buck.

It’s his favorite thing to do, second to spending time with Chris, so if he can’t have his first choice, he’s not exactly feeling as though he’s settling for this.

When Chris had gotten invited to a Christmas party with some friends from his old school, Eddie had been wary of accepting the offer, considering the lying he’d done only a few days ago. At the end of the day, though, when it comes to Chris lately, Eddie’s been lenient in just about every way possible. 

He knows it’s not right. Even if Chris doesn’t live here permanently, Eddie is still his parent; he still needs to enforce rules.

It’s just that Chris had looked so excited about it, so eager to reconnect with his old friends. Eddie hadn’t had it in himself to say no.

Buck had been watching the entire conversation play out with a smirk on his face, had mumbled a teasing, “Pushover.” When Chris had left the room.

Currently, they were in the middle of eating takeout, going over the gifts they’d each gotten Chris, separately and combined.

“I think we need to buy him another suitcase,” Buck jokes, “What’s our count now? 100 presents?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Yeah, sure. If you had it your way. I saw the tab open on your laptop. $400.00 for a PS5? Don’t even think about it.”

Buck groans playfully, “So I like giving gifts! Is that a crime now?”

“It is when you want to spend your entire salary on one person.”

Buck smiles mischievously,  “Hey, not just one. I got a few gifts for you, too, obviously.”

Buck is teasing him, but the words still hit Eddie harder than he’d thought they would, growing serious,

“You know I don’t expect anything from you, right? You give me so much just by being here. You brought Chris home. I can’t even begin to pay you back for that.”

After the words are out of his mouth, Eddie has to fight a wince. He hadn’t taken the time to filter anything, and he’s sure how in love he is has to be written all over his face.

Buck knocks their knees together and then keeps them pressed close, 

“You think you don’t do just as much for me? Before you and Chris got here, I was—” he chuckles self-depreciatingly, “less than an ideal version of myself.”

Yes, Eddie’s heard the Buck 1.0 stories, but he still can’t quantify Buck as being anything less than the same incredible, giving, open-hearted, person that Eddie knows him to be. 

The only difference between then and now is that people hadn’t cared enough to look beneath the surface. Buck had been reckless with himself in every aspect because it was the only way he’d known how to be. The way he’d thought he’d had to be if he wanted to receive love.

“—And then you showed up and brought all this joy to my life that I hadn’t even thought was possible.” 

Buck looks down then, “I know that’s cheesy, but it’s true. And as much as you don’t want to admit it to yourself, Chris wouldn’t have come home for Christmas just for me.” 

Buck reaches over to him and squeezes Eddie’s knee reassuringly, “I didn’t bring him, he wanted to be here. He wanted to see you just as much as you wanted to see him.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, fending off tears. He is so sick of crying.

Buck’s demeanor shifts back to teasing, then,

“—And don’t try to pretend like you’re innocent when it comes to gift giving. There are at least four presents for me under the tree. I counted.”

Eddie laughs, “Let me guess, did you shake them too? Try to figure out what I bought? Chris did that too—” he pauses, smile growing, “—When he was five.”

Buck playfully shoves him, “Shut up.” Then, “I can neither confirm nor deny the shaking.”

Eddie loves him. It practically sits under his skin at this point, just as ingrained in him as the blood in his veins.

He must pause for longer than he realizes, gazing lovestruck at Buck because something strange passes over his features,

“Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

Eddie jolts back to the present moment, and yes, he does have something on his face now that Eddie’s actually looking for it,

By the time he realizes he’s going to do it, his thumb is already frozen in its place at the edge of Buck’s mouth, reaching forward to wipe it away.

He can feel the sharp breath Buck takes against the pad of his finger, too close not to. The sensation makes him move finally, swiping the sauce away and licking it off his thumb before he realizes what he’s done, face practically on fire.

He clears his throat, “Uh— got it.”

Buck looks just as embarrassed as he does, cheeks slightly flushed, he swallows heavily, “Eddie, I—“

Whatever Buck intends to say, Eddie doesn’t know because before he can continue, both of their phones go off at the same time, loud where they rattle against the coffee table.

Eddie almost jumps, quickly grabbing it for distraction,

“It’s Chris. The group text. He’s just letting us know what time he’ll be home.”

Ever since the night he’d gone to Hen’s, he’s made a point to keep both of them informed of his whereabouts at all times.

He makes a joke of it sometimes- will text, ‘going to the kitchen’ when they’re sitting next to him on the couch. It never fails to make them all laugh.

Buck clears his throat then, posture stiffening, “That’s good. I’ll uh— put the porch light on so we don’t forget later.”

And with that, he’s out of Eddie’s reach, and the moment he thought might’ve been about to happen seems like a figment of his imagination. 

They don’t address it after Buck sits back down, and Eddie’s sure then that his mind is just playing tricks on him. Not for the first time.

***

Ironically, the night that everything comes to a head, Eddie feels the most at ease that he has since Chris first got here.

It’s the day before Christmas Eve. Buck picked up a last-minute shift for someone with a family emergency. This close to Christmas, it was a hard spot to fill, so when Bobby reached out to them about it, Buck stepped in without hesitation.

It’s the first time Buck’s left him and Chris alone together that Eddie hasn’t felt sick with nerves.

Things aren’t perfect. They still have mountains of things to work through, but considering everything, at least for a visit, Eddie is content with where they’re at.

It pales in comparison to the way Chris acted around Eddie before he went off to Texas, but that’s to be expected. At least now, Chris says more than two words to him per hour. He’s taking what he can get while he can get it.

It’s late, almost midnight, but Buck won’t be home until the early hours of the morning- a call that’s gone over. Eddie hasn’t been keeping track of the time- thoroughly engrossed in a video game competition with Chris that he is thoroughly losing.

As is usual, Chris hasn’t stopped trash-talking since they started, and Eddie is grasping at straws.

“Not fair! That round doesn’t even count it’s my first time playing.”

Chris rolls his eyes, “You’ve played this game at least 10 times before. Not that that’s helping you at all.”

“Okay, well, we’re unevenly matched. I think I deserve a partner. Do over tomorrow? Me and Buck will team up.”

Eddie is only partially kidding. He really is losing he just can’t care too much about it when Chris looks as happy as he does right now.

He has a bright grin on his face, genuine in a way Eddie hasn’t seen directed at himself in months, 

“Buck sucks at this game even more than you do. It’s not even fun to beat him; I just feel bad 'cause he pouts so much.”

In retrospect, Eddie isn’t even sure what makes him say it. 

Maybe his subconscious reminding him that as great as this is, it isn’t permanent. Maybe it's his way of trying to connect with Chris’s life in Texas. To show him he’s okay with it he can deal.

Whatever the reason, he says it,

“Well, I’m sure you’re excited to get back to your friends in Texas who can actually play against you. It must be boring hanging out with old people all break.” 

Eddie isn’t sure what he expected. Maybe for Chris to nod, to agree, to add to the teasing.

Instead, he lets out a rough laugh- no humor behind it. It sounds adult. Grown up in a way Eddie’s never heard him sound before. Just from that, just from a laugh.

“Sure, whatever.”

Eddie tilts his head, thrown off balance by his quick change in demeanor, 

“What?”

Chris nods, “I want to go back, right? I mean, that’s what you keep saying, so it must be true.”

Before Eddie can say anything else, Chris barrels forward, speaking without giving himself a chance to take a breath,

“I want to go back to Texas; I love it in Texas, my school is so great. It’s so fun having everyone ask why I moved.”

“Chris—“

“—Especially when people ask about my parents.”

Eddie wants to stop him. Wants to help him calm down, but he knows Chris needs to say whatever it is he’s getting at. Has probably needed to say it for longer than Eddie’s realized.

“I never know what to start with. Usually, the fact that my mom died, it’s always good to get that out of the way. And then people ask about my dad, and that’s a fun one, too, because I can’t say what actually happened because I’ll sound crazy.”

Eddie is frozen in place. He feels Chris’s words like a physical blow to the chest.

“—And I want to mention Buck, but then that just makes everyone more confused.”

“Chris, hold on— Can we—“

Chris is crying now, sudden and all-consuming,

“Did you ever think that when I left, I wanted you to come get me?”

In his words, it’s as if everything Eddie’s been trying to make sense of since Chris left slots right into place. 

Of course. How hadn’t Eddie thought to consider that? He’d been so caught up in his self-punishment of staying away that he hadn’t even realized Chris might want him to show he cared enough to be there.

He continues, “ I thought you would at first. But then it was two months in, and you’re just taking it. You’re not even trying. And I wanted to come home, but admitting that just made me more mad, so I stayed.”

Eddie’s face crumples, grief-stricken in a way he hasn’t allowed himself to feel, maybe ever, “I didn’t—I thought you wanted space. I didn’t want to—“

Chris throws his hands up, video game controller forgotten,

“Of course, I wanted space. You brought a lady that looks like my dead mom into our house. That doesn’t mean I wanted months of space. I just wanted—“

He lets out a rough noise, his voice coming out nasally from his tears, “—I wanted you to hurt as much as I did for a second, I guess.”

Chris deflates at that like a weight has been on his shoulders this whole time, and now his body doesn’t know how to stand without it.

Eddie isn’t able to stop the sob that comes through before it’s out, “I’m so sorry, Chris. You have to know— I’ve wanted you home this whole time. I would’ve been there in a second if I knew you wanted me to be.”

Chris looks heartbroken, eyes swimming with tears,

“Then why didn’t you try? Why did you let me go?”

Eddie’s voice is rough, “I thought— I knew I’d ruined things. I was afraid if I made you stay, you’d hate me even more than you already did. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

It’s a lousy excuse, but it’s the truth. He owes Chris that, at least.

Chris scoffs, “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I was angry with you. I’m still angry with you. I wish you’d never done that. I wish Mom—“ He breaks off then, clenching his jaw, but Eddie gets the message.

“Me too. I wish she— me too, Chris. I’m so sorry. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I’ll do whatever I can to make this better.” His voice breaks in the middle then, “Anything Chris. I love you so much.”

Chris just looks at him then, splotchy red face and eyes full of tears. Before he can blink, Chris launches himself towards him in a hug. Tight and secure. The first real one they’ve shared in months.

Eddie holds him just as tightly back. He’s not sure how long they stay there, but at some point, Chris pulls back, his glasses completely askew from the way he’s been pressed so close to Eddie,

“I hate Texas. I don’t know why you lived there for so long.”

Eddie lets out some combination of a laugh and a sob, 

“Me either, bud.”

He wants to say more, but Chris is adding to his list of complaints before he can,

“The weather sucks, and I don’t even like the chess club. And I hate watching football, and Abuela never lets me help with the cooking like Buck does.”

The words pour out of him like he’s been wanting to say them for months, he probably has.

“I want to come home.”

Eddie had assumed that’s where this was heading, but hearing the words brings another wave of tears to his eyes, 

“Yeah? I want you to come home, too. So much.”

“Can we go soon? To get my stuff?”

Eddie ducks his head, pressing a kiss into his hair from where Chris is slumped against him,

“As soon as you want, okay? You say the word, and we leave right now.”

Chris lets a small smile slip, “We can’t leave right now Buck would never forgive us."

Eddie knows he’s teasing, but he almost wants to reassure him anyway- Buck will always forgive him, no matter the circumstance. Eddie knows that without question, just as Eddie will. 

“Hm,” he hums, “That’s true. Think he’d miss us too much.”

Chris lets out a noise between a scoff and a laugh, “Yeah, and you’d be totally fine without him, right?”

Eddie doesn’t even try to pretend, “No,” he smiles softly, “Definitely not.”

***

Chris falls asleep eventually, slumped against Eddie, the aftereffects of the tears and late hour seem to hit him all at once. When he’s sure he’s fully out, Eddie moves him to lie flat on the couch, careful not to wake him.

He tries to settle enough to sleep, but he knows his efforts are futile. He’s too keyed up. Wants to call Buck and tell him the good news but wants to see his reaction in person too much to spoil it early.

He feels giddy as he waits for him to come home, like a kid with a secret they can’t wait to spill. 

It’s almost like it won’t feel real until Buck knows. Until they can share in the joy.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes on the bedside table:

Buck: just finished ill be home soon

Buck : i hope youre asleep

The texts are normal. A process they follow anytime one of them is on a rare shift without the other. They always finish off the messages the same way: hoping the other isn’t up as late as they are to read the text.

Of course, they always are. 

Eddie’s skin feels like it doesn’t fit right when he’s not on shift with Buck. Not there to have his back, no way to keep him safe. He always ends up wide awake, needing Buck’s confirmation that he’s made it home safely before he can get any rest.

He knows Buck feels the same. He also knows that if anyone else on the team knew they did this, they’d never hear the end of it. But, Eddie reasons, he’s never pretended to be normal where Buck’s concerned. 

He was a goner on day one, whether he realized it at the time or not.

He gets out of bed right when he reads the texts, trying to expend some energy, but it’s no use. His heart is already racing in anticipation of what he’s going to tell Buck. Not nervous, just happy. Happy in a way he doesn’t know how to contain.

He tries to pretend he’s not waiting by the door, flitting around the kitchen tidying things in the dark so as not to wake Chris like that’s in any way productive.

By the time he sees the Jeep’s headlights, he doesn’t even wait for Buck to get out of the car. Just barges outside with no sense. Goes to the driver's side door and knocks against the window once the car is fully stopped.

He feels a little delirious, lightheaded like Chris’s words haven’t fully hit him until now.

Buck jumps where he sits, understandably confused. Face scrunched up as he pulls the car door open,

“Jesus, Eddie, you scared the shit out of me. Is everything okay? Is Chris—”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say first, mind too jumbled with all of the adrenaline he’s feeling. The only thing he can manage to get out is,

“You can’t sleep on the couch tonight.”

That just adds to Buck’s growing confusion,

“Okay? You ran outside without shoes to tell me that? I could’ve just gone to the loft if you wanted.”

Eddie looks down at his feet, bare, and now that he’s realizing it, pretty cold against the concrete and the night air. He hadn’t even registered it before.

Eddie’s laughing now, crying, maybe. He’s not sure,

“No, just— we want you here. Chris just fell asleep on the couch.”

Buck gets out of the driver's seat slowly, warily, making Eddie take a step back.

“I’m still not getting why you had to risk frostbite to tell me that.”

The words make Eddie stop for a second, stumbling off track, “You’re so dramatic. We live in LA Buck, not the Arctic.”

Buck huffs, “God forbid I care about your wellbeing. It’s way more common than you’d think. I just read—”

Eddie cuts him off again, and clearly, his brain-to-mouth filter hasn’t found its equilibrium yet because he just blurts,

“You’re my best friend.” All soppy and fond. His insides feel like liquid. He couldn’t tell up from down right now if he tried.

It’s just. It’s true, is the thing. Buck is his best friend. Along with all the love he holds for him, their friendship is a constant throughline. Never one without the other.

He’d be just as happy kissing Buck senseless as he would hearing him rant about frostbite. 

He’s not helping his case here, only worrying Buck further with each nonsensical phrase that comes out of his mouth.

Buck’s hands are hovering in the air like he’s preparing to check him over for unseen injuries. Eddie doesn’t blame him. He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like right now.

“You gotta give me something to work with, Eds; you’re freaking me out.“

His words still hold a teasing edge to them, but if Eddie knows Buck, and Eddie knows Buck, he has about two minutes left till he falls off the cliff into real panic.

Eddie steps forward, holding Buck’s forearms in a tight grip from where they’re still hanging in the air, too giddy to feel self-conscious of his movements.

“Chris wants to come home.”

Buck’s eyes widen so fast it’s almost comical, 

“Fuck off.”

Eddie laughs again- and throws his head back. The grin Buck sends him is enough to bowl him over. Bright and beautiful. Disbelieving.

“You’re serious?” 

Eddie nods, biting his lip, “He wants us to go pick up his stuff. I told him we could go whenever he wanted.”

“Eddie.” Buck’s voice comes out rough, eyes watering like the words are just hitting him. His hands come up to circle Eddie’s wrists, from where they’re still gripping Buck’s forearms, craving touch just as much as Eddie is. 

Something to tether them to the moment, something to make it feel real.

“I’ve been dying to tell you.”

Buck is speaking a mile a minute, too excited, “When do we go? What’s the plan?”

Eddie sniffles, and before he even registers that tears are falling, Buck is reaching forward to wipe them away with his thumb, “Well, I wanted to go two seconds after he told me. We had to wait for you, though. Chris insisted.”

It’s Buck’s turn to laugh then, all watery and uneven, “Just Chris, huh? I see how it is.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, so stupidly happy he can’t even pretend to play along, “I want you there too. Obviously.”

Buck’s grin splits his face open; he hasn’t moved his thumb away since he wiped at Eddie’s tears, so it’s just sitting there, moving idly back and forth like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

If Eddie had any sense right now, he’d stop himself. Not say anything. Laugh it off right along with him, but as it stands, he’s running on very little sleep and, as it turns out very little sense. 

It’s just he’s so happy. Practically sick with it. And there’s something in Buck’s gaze that seems familiar. A reflection, the same way he assumes he must look at Buck. Warm, loving. And he knows that even if he has this wrong, they’ll survive it. They’ve survived worse, so when Buck jokes,

“Nope, don’t try to save face now. I’m nothing to you, I knew—“

Eddie just says it. No pretense, “You’re everything to me, actually.”

Buck definitely hadn’t been expecting that- mouth still half open from being cut off in the middle of his sentence.

Before he can speak again, Eddie keeps talking, with no self-preservation in sight. Words rushing out before he can even try to form them into something coherent,

“You’re like the sun or the universe or something.  Or— I don’t know. I’ve been big on this Sequoia tree metaphor in my head. It sounds a little stupid now that I’m saying it out loud— but, like— never nothing. Even as a joke.”

He sees it the second Buck makes the choice; it passes over his face so fast that anyone else probably wouldn’t notice, a flash of sadness and then, like it was never there, a facsimile of Buck’s actual smile.

“A sequoia tree?” Buck backs up and removes his hands from their place on Eddie’s face, “You really haven’t slept, have you?”

Buck lets out a laugh after his words, but it’s wrong. Forced. Nothing like his usual.

If this were anyone else but Buck, Eddie would be taking all of this as a sign of rejection. But this isn’t someone else. This is Buck. Eddie knows Buck. And this isn’t a rejection.

Buck is a giver. Never a taker. Not even when Eddie is so clearly dying to give.

He would never presume Eddie’s feelings. Wouldn’t let himself take something like that out of Eddie’s words for fear of reading it wrong, inconveniencing Eddie. Fucking up what they’ve built. 

So he’s deflecting. Laughing it off because that’s easier than the possibility that he might have this wrong.

Eddie wants to grab his hand back and place it against his jaw again, but Buck has shrunken in on himself in the way he tends to do when he’s about to panic and is hoping no one will notice. 

Eddie always notices.

Buck’s arms are across his chest, and he’s backing even further away, “You know, I’m pretty beat. I think I’m just gonna go crash at the loft. I’ll be back when Chris wakes up. So we can plan?”

It’s like all at once the fear Eddie’s had, the dread of unreciprocated feelings washes away. Because they share each other’s burdens. They switch off. Eddie can be brave for a minute; he can take the responsibility from Buck’s shoulders and onto his own.

He decides not to point out how counterproductive Buck’s plan is, and instead,

“If you want. But I want to tell you something first.”

He waits gives him the out if he wants to take it.

Buck won’t look him in the eye, foot tapping against the concrete in quick succession, one of his more obvious tells, but he doesn’t try to leave. Doesn’t tell Eddie not to speak, so he takes that as a cue to continue,

“I’m just going to say this. And if I’m wrong, or if you’re not ready, or it’s not something you want, then we’ll just leave it, okay? You’ll go to the loft and come back in the morning, and nothing will change.”

“Eddie-“ Buck is anxious, fingers pressed so tightly against his biceps that their pads are turning white.

“I need you to tell me you understand that, Buck. Nothing will change, no matter what.”

Buck nods, skin flushed from the crying and the chill of the night, “I understand.”

“I think you think that I’m just saying all this stuff because I’m excited about Chris or that it’s the adrenaline, but Buck, I love you all the time.”

He clears his throat with a self-assured nod and repeats,

“I love you all the time. I love the family we’ve built- that you love Chris just as much as I do. I love when you first wake up, and your hair is all curly, and I love when you let me cry on you after therapy and don’t push me to talk, you just— you always know what I need without me having to say it.”

He shrugs, eyes downcast, “I love the way you make everything you care about seem like the most special thing in the world, even if you’re only on the topic for five minutes.” 

Eddie huffs a laugh, “ When you told me that thing about bird migration patterns, I went on Wikipedia for like an hour afterward because you make everything sound interesting, even the boring stuff.”

He hears Buck let out a wet laugh and concludes, 

“—And all of this will still be true whether or not you feel the same because even though I’m in love with you, I also just love you. You’re my best friend over anything else, and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good happens, and— fuck Buck, you brought our fucking kid home for Christmas.” 

He shakes his head, disbelieving at the weight of what Buck’s done for him, even now, especially now. None of this would’ve happened without him. He’s crying again, so he swipes his hands roughly against his eyes, sniffles and clears his throat,

“Uh— that’s it. I guess.”

He’s not looking at Buck, just hears a disbelieving scoff, “That’s it?”

When he looks up, he feels like he’s staring directly at the sun, Buck’s grin sneaking its way onto his lips as he starts to speak, 

“You don’t have anything else romantic you want to say about bird migration?”

And that is exactly why he fell in love with Buck. Even now, it’s normal, joking, teasing, his best friend.

Buck steps back into Eddie’s space, and Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his chest, cross the distance between them, and just lodge itself right next to Buck’s own heart.

“That’s what does it for you? Bird migration?”

Buck’s hands reach up to cradle Eddie’s jaw again, intentional, “I’m pretty sure anything you’d say would do it for me. I’m like sickeningly disgustingly in love with you.”

It’s not that Eddie hadn’t assumed that. When Buck didn’t run off right after Eddie’s speech, he had an idea, but hearing the words is something entirely different. 

He has to close his eyes against it, too much all at once, to see him and hear it at the same time.

Buck is so close now that Eddie feels the breath of his next words against his lips, “I’m serious,” he reaches forward and grabs Eddie’s hand, it’s then that Eddie realizes he’s shaking.

He grimaces and lets out a huff of a laugh. Never embarrassed, not when it’s Buck, but it’s not exactly how he’d pictured the moment. He’d wanted to be confident, but right now, he kind of feels like he could melt against the sidewalk.

Buck brushes their noses together, still cradling Eddie’s hand as it trembles, 

“You think that’s bad? Feel my heart right now.”

He takes Eddie’s hand and presses it against his chest. At first, all Eddie registers is the warm heat, and then, yeah. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt it beat this fast before. He knows his own heart rate isn’t any better. 

He curls his hand into the fabric of Buck’s t-shirt, teases,

“Wow, you’re right. That’s really embarrassing for you.”

“Good thing you love me, huh?” Buck is trying to come off teasing, too, but Eddie reads between the lines. Buck wants confirmation, even after everything, just to be sure.

Eddie nods and makes eye contact, all of his previous teasing tone gone, speaks the words against his lips,

“Good thing, I love you.”

In the next second, Buck is cradling Eddie’s jaw and pressing their lips together.

Eddie’s pictured this a frankly absurd number of times. A million different ways, but as it happens, all he can think is, of course. It all fits.

It’s slow at first but not tentative, Buck’s lips a warm pressure of heat, firm and sweet. Pulling back slightly just to come right back in again, deeper. The thumb against Eddie’s jaw presses on his chin slightly, and then Buck’s tongue is in his mouth.

Eddie lets out a warm, content hum he’s never heard himself make before, hand still curled in Buck’s t-shirt, now a tight, firm grip. His other hand moves to the back of Buck’s head, the loose curls from the shower he must’ve taken at the station.

He feels Buck shiver as he rakes his fingers through, scratching at the back of his neck. Eddie’s not sure how long they stand there. It all blends together, warm and wet and sweet and slow.

He’d been exaggerating earlier, but he really does feel melted now, pressed completely against Buck, all loose limbs and soft, breathy noises. Trying to get himself closer, nose digging into Buck’s cheek with the effort.

They’ve moved backward without realizing it at some point because Eddie hears the sound of Buck’s back making contact with the side of the jeep. He’s smiling into it now. Amused by Eddie’s enthusiasm, a tooth snagging against the edge of his lip.

Buck slows it down then, short kisses in quick succession, firm and warm in a way that makes Eddie let out a sigh, “Hm,” he speaks between the kisses, words slurred, delirious, “Hi.”

Buck does pull back then, but he doesn’t go far, Eddie’s face still in his hands. He leans forward again to place a sweet kiss on his brow bone,

“Hi.” 

Eddie’s eyes are closed, but he can easily picture the smile Buck must be wearing based on the tone of his voice, 

When he does manage to open his eyes, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen Buck look quite like this before. So happy and content that it practically rolls off him in waves. And Eddie is the cause of that.

Buck’s face is flushed, lips swollen, kiss bitten and red. The sight of them is too much all at once, Eddie has to move forward again to get his tongue in his mouth, a tamer version of what they’d been doing seconds ago.

Eddie’s so warm, content with the heat of Buck’s mouth that he doesn’t even realize he’s shivering until he feels Buck’s arms moving up and down, trying to generate heat to chase away the goosebumps he registers now that they’ve been brought to his attention.

Buck pulls back again, and Eddie doesn’t even fight to hold back a whine. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way with someone before, needy and too in love to care.

He grasps Buck’s t-shirt in his fist again, wrinkled from the way he’d been gripping it so tightly earlier,

“Come back.”

Buck gives an honest-to-God giggle at that, “M’right here.”

Eddie presses their foreheads together, shaking his head, “Need you to kiss me.”

Buck does then, a short chaste peck, “You’re freezing. Don’t you want to go inside?”

Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand then, lacing their fingers together with a squeeze,

“That depends. You gonna kiss me some more?”

Buck flushes, bringing their joined hands to his mouth, and presses a kiss to his knuckles,

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop kissing you, Eds. I love you too much.”

Buck leans in again and kisses Eddie deep enough that he’s shivering for an entirely different reason now, “Come show me.”

They’re a disaster trying to walk through the pitch-black house without waking Chris, letting out giggles into each other's necks to stifle the noise.

They reach Eddie’s bedroom eventually, lying on their sides facing each other, Buck’s face in Eddie’s hands, just looking, letting himself now that he knows it’s allowed.

The moment is broken, however, when Eddie rubs his foot against Buck’s calf,

Buck practically squeals, “You fucker!”

Eddie cackles, “You’re the one who doesn’t want me to get frostbite. Thought you wouldn’t mind warming me up.”

Buck’s face softens, then, “Luckily for you, I do want to warm you up. Even if that was a low blow.”

Eddie’s voice is low, repeating Buck’s words from earlier, “Good thing you love me, huh?”

Buck speaks against his lips, “Good thing.”

***

Christmas Day finds the three of them on the road, making their way to Texas. Buck holding Eddie’s hand in a tight grip over the center console, Chris’s constant running commentary from the backseat.

It’s the best Christmas Eddie’s ever had.