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Christopher knows something is wrong. He hasn’t seen Buck in days, since the Christmas party—and then, Buck hadn’t even said goodbye to him and Dad. It had also been the first time Chris had seen him in months. Since Dad had been shot and Buck stayed with them as Dad rested and worked on getting better.
All of this is so unlike Buck that Chris watches his dad closely for days.
He looks for signs. Clues. He’s been really into detective books lately, much to Dad’s distress. He finds them too unsavory for a kid Christopher’s age. But he indulges him anyway, finding reviews of the least graphic books and letting him borrow those from the library.
He’d come home one day to a book on the porch and a note from Buck on the inside. To Superman and to many more adventures.
That very book sits on Christopher’s bedside now. A reminder of his Bucky in his absence.
Chris notices his Dad sulking today. No matter what Chris does or says to make Dad smile, his frown is ever permanent on his face. The phone in his hand is on the receiving end of his glare.
Dad doesn’t notice Chris in the room when he places the phone to his ear. The call must go unanswered because he sighs, “To voicemail again, Buck? This is getting childish. I know—” Chris steps forward, his crutches startling Dad and he hangs up the phone.
“What happened with Buck? Did you do something?” Chris glares at him. He doesn’t really care that this is his Dad he’s talking to right now. He knows that if he caused Buck to not come around anymore, to not see Christopher, he’d never forgive him. No matter his parental status.
“I– I don’t–” Dad flounders to come up with a response. He slams his phone down onto the kitchen table. Chris notices the mug of coffee in front of him, he’s sure if he touched it, it would be ice cold. Another weird, strange thing.
Dad would never waste a cup of coffee. He’s too dependent on it to wake up in the mornings. It’s the first thing he does when he wakes, make a pot and chug a cupful, no matter how scalding.
Chris then takes in his slumped posture and dark circles under his eyes. His clothes are rumpled and are definitely the same ones from last night. Dad would’ve gotten dressed by now, it’s close to one p.m. He’d be dressed, even if they weren’t leaving the house.
Something is very wrong, indeed.
“Did you even sleep last night, Dad?”
Dad blinks furiously a few times, his gaze fixed on something past Chris. He doesn’t know if Dad even heard him, if he’s even coherent enough right now. Chris turns and follows his line of sight. He’s staring at the fridge. His eyes are caught on the note Buck left there months ago, when Dad had still been recovering.
When you finally wake up, Eds, I’ll be on shift. Don’t hesitate to call if you or Chris need anything! Seriously anything at all. I’m a call away, promise.
Love, Buck
(P.S. I hope you have a fun day, Superman. There’s a new show out on Disney+ you can watch, I’m still logged in, don’t worry. There’s also some leftovers in the fridge, don’t let your Dad cook anything .)
Chris remembers seeing the note and laughing. Buck knows Dad way too well. He knows that he’d tried to cook, pushing himself when he shouldn’t, when he wasn’t even ready. Dad very well did try that night and when Chris had come back from the bathroom, he admonished him and pushed him out of the kitchen. The leftovers only needed microwaved and Chris could handle that.
Alongside that note is a picture of Buck and Christopher at the zoo, in front of their mutual favorite animal: tigers. There’s also a picture of Dad, Buck, and Chris on a hike. Buck had pulled out a ridiculously long selfie stick and with that and his long arms, he captured them at sunset. It’s Chris’ favorite by far, his little family all together. Then there’s one of Dad and Buck alone, at a baseball game. There's many more pictures of Buck with them. Even one of just Buck, leaning against his jeep and smiling brightly. Chris is positive that Dad took that picture.
Chris turns and watches his Dad now. He’s still in his own little bubble. Chris grabs his phone, turning the screen towards him so the Face ID can unlock it. (Dad had finally put a passcode on his phone after the whole uber incident.)
Chris scrolls through the endless messages Dad has left Buck.
They start off simple: Buck, talk to me . Then Dad is apologizing profusely, over and over, trying to get a response. What does Dad have to be sorry for? What did he do ? The last message he sent is: Christopher misses you.
Well that is right. Then Chris stomps on over to him, planting himself noisily in the seat to his right, hoping to gain Dad’s attention. He shoves the phone in his dad's face. “What did you do ?” He demands, his voice raises as he goes on. “Why is Buck mad at you? Is that why he hasn’t been around? Why I haven't seen him?”
Dad snaps out of the haze hearing Christopher’s anger. “I did something.”
“ What ?” Chris pushes, even though Dad clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. But sometimes Dad gets so far in his head that he doesn’t realize how simple the solution to his problem is. Chris guesses that’s a thing grown ups do. Think too much and make things needlessly complicated. Like when he refused to break up with Miss Flores.
“I–I left the 118. I quit.” Chris doesn’t expect that. He has thought maybe Buck and Dad just had a silly fight. But, Dad… quit his job? Dad loves his job, he loves being a firefighter and a medic, but not as much as he loves being partners with Buck. Chris could never imagine him quitting.
“Why would you do that? That’s our family. Buck’s our family.”
“I know, mijo. That’s not going to change. Buck’s just upset because I didn’t talk to him about it.”
“I don't blame, Buck. You didn't talk to me either. Now why did you quit?”
Dad sighs, scratches at his beard. “Well, what you told me at Christmas. You were so worried and I—”
Christopher cuts him off. His voice comes out hurt, “You quit because of me ? I wouldn't ever ask you to do that. You love your job.”
“I know. But I love you, more and I have to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t lose me.”
Chris tries not to throw a tantrum. Dad's his hero, how could he quit? Sometimes tantrums are the only way Dad really listens and hears him. But right now, he doesn’t think it will help. It'll probably just case even more problems. “Dad, you can’t quit. You love your job, you love being there, and you love Buck.” He pauses for a moment and realizes something. “ Now who’s going to watch Buck’s back? ”
Dad blinks, his eyes go wide. “What did you say?”
“Who’s going to watch Buck’s back? C’mon dad keep up.”
Dad shakes his head. “No. No, I mean before that.”
“You can’t quit?”
“Nope. Not that either.”
“You love Buck! That’s what I said,” Christopher beams, proud of himself. He’s known for ages. They are so obvious about it.
“Oh.” Dad says, a realization on his part, clearly. How he never knew is beyond Chris.
“You didn’t know.”
“No. How come you knew?”
“One of my friend’s was telling me how their parents go to the store together just to have a moment alone, even if grocery shopping is just a one person job, and how they bicker but are never angry, how they look at each other, how when one cooks the other is there to keep them company. That’s how you and Buck are.”
Dad looks shocked. Maybe Chris shouldn’t have said anything yet. Maybe it isn’t the right time yet. Maybe Dad needs to stay in denial for a while longer.
But then Dad says, amazement and reverence in his voice: “I love Buck.”
“Dad, if Buck’s angry, he’ll calm down. You love each other. You need to stop being so silly and just tell him.” Chris says it like it’s simple. Dad won’t see it that way, but it is. Dad just needs to tell him. Plus, they can never stay angry with each other, it’s not in their nature.
“I don’t know about that this time, Chris. I really hurt him. He thinks I’m leaving him behind.”
Chris pats Dad on the cheek. “Just tell Buck to stay, Dad. That’s all he wants to hear. You love him and we both never want him to go.”
Dad gets it now. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell him when I see him next.”
And Chris smiles, he’s very pleased with himself. He’s finally going to get Buck as his other dad, officially. It’s all thanks to him, too.
When Buck shows up at the front door later, Chris is smiling wide. Dad is going to tell him. He hugs Buck to him and he lets Dad and Buck talk alone. When he's sure they've had enough time to figure it all out, he walks through the door to the kitchen, sees them kissing and cheers, "Finally!" He's never been more happy in his life.