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Buck wakes up smiling.
He doesn't immediately know why exactly - maybe the remnants of a really good dream? - but then he feels the weight of the arm that's currently wrapped around him and manages to properly take in his surroundings and oh. Right.
He's at Eddie's. In Eddie's room. In Eddie's bed. Because Eddie told him he loved him last night.
His smile gets even bigger at the memory and he gently maneuvers himself in Eddie's arms so that they're face to face, careful not to wake him. Eddie's hair has fallen onto his forehead a little in sleep and he's making these breathy little snores on each exhale that frankly don't have a right to be as adorable as they are. Buck thinks he could listen to those snores for the rest of his life.
Then it hits him again, all at once, that maybe he actually will.
His stomach flips in a way that makes Buck wonder if it's possible to throw up just from happiness. It's all a little overwhelming, honestly. He keeps breathing through his nose, just in case, while he snuggles in just a little closer to Eddie and calms himself by focusing on mapping the exact proportions of the freckle that sits under Eddie's eye. Eventually - when he's moved on from the freckle to individually counting each one of Eddie's eyelashes - the churning in his stomach starts to settle.
It's just- of all the things he thought Eddie was going to say last night, Buck truly never imagined this. When he'd started talking about Shannon, about finally being ready to move on for real this time, it was like Buck watched their entire lives play out before his eyes. He saw himself playing wingman to Eddie at some bar and watching him hit it off with another gorgeous brunette (he thinks he might've even subconsciously pictured that badass Texas firefighter; god, he'd always been so jealous of her). Then he imagined the same nameless woman laughing with Maddie and Hen at one of Bobby's barbecues, totally accepted into the family. Imagined her becoming a confidant to Chris, maybe even helping him plan for college (because obviously she would have a real degree, not just the remnants of a single failed semester like Buck). He even imagined her and Eddie's wedding - Buck standing up at the altar with Eddie but on the wrong side - watching Eddie's eyes go big and soft as they followed her movements towards them down the aisle.
Buck was ready for it, is the thing. He was even ready to be happy about it. Because the thought of losing Eddie to Texas- god. A truly awful ache had taken up residence in Buck's chest ever since Chris had left in June, and the idea of that ache just becoming permanent? Worse even, with Eddie gone too? Well, there was no amount of flour in the universe to distract him from that. To say Buck had been a wreck the last few weeks might be the understatement of the century.
But then Eddie had come home. Eddie and Chris had both come home. And if the price of that miracle was Buck watching Eddie fall in love again from the sidelines, well. At least he'd get to watch.
Except- apparently that's not how it's going to play out after all. Because it turns out that Eddie doesn't want that nameless, beautiful woman.
He wants Buck instead.
I always want you, he'd said in that steady, calm, Eddie voice. Like it was a simple fact of the universe.
I always want you with me.
Buck feels his stomach flip again, even as the warmth in his chest seems to flare in unison, feeling a little like it's at risk to just come bursting out of him at any moment - a raging wildfire of love that can't be contained any longer. He just loves Eddie so much. He loves Chris so much. He loves this house so much.
So much and yet somehow still not too much. Not to Eddie, at least. Because Eddie asked Buck to stay. Eddie loves him back.
Buck's starting to contemplate how likely he thinks kissing the little freckle under Eddie's eye would be to actually wake him up, when a sound from the living room distracts him momentarily.
"Dad, where's Buck?" he hears Chris's voice call out, soft but still clear in the otherwise early morning silence of the house. He sounds confused mostly, but maybe also a little concerned. "He's not out here."
Before Buck can really even consider what to do about this, the click of Chris's crutches against the hardwood gets concerningly close. Buck is lying on the side of the bed closest to the door, so he rolls over again to face towards it just as it starts to open, managing to fully catch Chris's startled expression as he takes in finding Buck where he clearly expected to find his dad instead.
"Uh. Morning!" Buck says brightly, but keeping his voice soft for Eddie's sake. He is absolutely not panicking. "Is it pancake time?"
Chris just blinks back at him for a moment - eyes lingering on Eddie's arm still draped possessively across Buck's chest - before he looks away, cheeks flushing slightly.
"Sorry," he says. "I didn't- you weren't on the couch."
"No, no, it's okay," Buck tries to reassure him, moving to sit up. Eddie makes a soft, unhappy sound when Buck wriggles out of his grasp, but he still doesn't wake, and Buck's not totally sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing at the moment.
"I just uh, I ended up bunking with your dad last night," he adds, unnecessarily.
And okay- it's not like they're indecent or anything. He and Eddie are both wearing pyjamas - well, shorts and a t-shirt - Buck's just not sure how much that helps him right this second. They honestly hadn't even done anything last night except sleep; when Eddie had yawned into one of their kisses in the kitchen, Buck had laughed and dragged him off to bed despite his protests. After which Eddie had proven him right by promptly falling asleep before Buck had even finished changing and brushing his teeth.
He has to admit, he did not consider this particular possibility at the time though, or he might have still opted for the couch after all, at least until he and Eddie could talk about it properly. But Buck knows Eddie wouldn't have wanted to keep this from Chris, not after how hard he's been trying to regain Chris's trust. And what's done is done now, either way, he supposes. So it's really just a matter of whether he wakes Eddie up, or navigates this on his own for the moment.
He glances over at Eddie again, still snoring away peacefully, before taking a deep breath and moving to get up properly. When he joins Chris in the hall, he quietly closes the door to Eddie's room behind him.
"Let's let your dad sleep a little more," he says softly. "He had a really long day of driving yesterday."
Chris nods, but he doesn't meet Buck's eyes as he does. He starts off towards the kitchen without any other acknowledgement, while Buck stands in the hallway for just a second longer, taking another deep, steadying breath before following him.
The tense silence that follows them both into the kitchen is not one that's ever been there before - not between Buck and Chris, at least - and Buck finds himself nervously filling it with mindless chatter about the grocery shopping he did while Chris and Eddie were still on the road yesterday. He tells Chris how he'd gotten blueberries but also chocolate chips and cinnamon and bananas and strawberries, so they'd have plenty of options, you know, just in case they felt like mixing it up this time. Or if, maybe Chris's tastes had changed in the last three months. Buck doesn't know what kind of crazy pancakes he might've tried down in Texas, after all.
When his slightly awkward rambling still doesn't manage to elicit any response from Chris though, Buck forces himself to stop, pausing as he goes to open the baking power he's pulled down onto the counter in front of him, and instead taking another breath.
"Um," he says tentatively. "Maybe we should-"
"I don't want to talk about it," Chris cuts in sharply, the first words he's said since they left Eddie's room.
"Oh," Buck says, a little taken aback. "Uh. Oh-okay."
His hand moves back to the cap on the baking powder but he still doesn't open it. He chances a side glance over at Chris and has to hold back a slightly hysterical laugh that suddenly threatens to bubble up out of his chest. It's not actually funny; he's just never seen anyone sift flour angrily before.
"Can I just say one thing though?" he forces himself to ask.
He watches as Chris sighs with practically his whole body.
"I can't stop you," he mutters, and Buck thinks it should rankle him - Chris's sarcasm - but it just makes him smile instead. He's missed Chris so much these past three months, and being here with him now, even with Chris in this mood, Buck finds that the warmth he felt when he first woke up this morning hasn't dimmed at all. It just keeps expanding out, filling his chest, growing warmer and brighter.
He remembers when he first met Christopher - how it seemed like he never stopped smiling, even in the midst of one of the worst days of his life, of their lives. He thinks he might have fallen in love with Chris even before he fell in love with Eddie. It was a close race, that he knows for sure.
And well. Buck still loves the surly teenage Chris standing in front of him just as much as he did that smiley seven year-old.
"Ah-about your dad and I," Buck starts a little haltingly, desperate not to screw this up, "um. It's- you're allowed to feel however you feel about it, okay? And, we can talk about it or not talk about it, or I- I can even- uh. I can leave for- for a bit if you want to talk to your dad without me here. But just- I need you to believe me when I say that this only just happened. Literally when you guys got back last night. It's not- we haven't been keeping it from you. I promise. Your dad's really been working hard on being more open about things now, especially with you. He's really trying, Chris."
He watches as the tense set of Chris's shoulders softens the way he hoped it would when he realizes this wasn't another secret being kept from him. Chris sets down the sifter and finally glances over at Buck, just for a moment, before he's moving to the fridge and pulling out the carton of blueberries.
"I like the blueberry," he says, clearly still refusing to engage with the conversation Buck's trying to have with him, but without any of the sullen bite from before.
"Blueberry it is," Buck agrees, conceding the end of the conversation and allowing them to fall back into their normal kitchen rhythm.
It's such a well-rehearsed production at this point - even after a three-month pause - that they don't have to speak as they work, each already knowing what the next step is and who's job it is to take it. Normally they would still talk about other things, though, and Buck's never been especially good with quiet. So eventually he does clear his throat to say something else - maybe to ask what else Chris wants to do with the day? - but Chris ends up breaking the silence instead, beating him to it.
"I told my Texas friends you were my stepdad," he says, and Buck has to fight not to drop the freshly rinsed blueberries he's holding in his surprise, his heart suddenly hammering so wildly in his chest he worries for a moment he might pass out.
Apparently both of the Diaz boys have now decided to try to kill him via spontaneous revelation about his place in their lives. That's cool. It's fine. Buck's fine.
"You uh. You did?" he manages after a beat, aiming for an encouraging nonchalance that he doesn't even remotely feel. God, he loves this kid so much.
Stepdad. Stepdad. Stepdad.
Chris shrugs, but there's a steady flush creeping back up his neck.
"All of my friends here know you, so they just... get it," he says, as if he somehow has to justify himself to Buck. "With my friends down there, I didn't know how to explain, so-" he shrugs again- "stepdad seemed... closest."
Buck nods, wondering vaguely if his heart's beating loud enough that Chris can hear it too, or if it's just him.
"That makes sense," he says, hoping he sounds at least somewhat normal. Unfortunately, he's not sure he remembers what his normal voice sounds like, at the moment. He's glad he already has something to do with his hands.
Chris looks over at him.
"It doesn't bother you?" he asks, and Buck is so genuinely baffled by the question that it takes him a moment to respond.
"Why would that bother me?" he asks, looking over at Chris in confusion.
Chris shrugs again, re-focusing on the batter he's been diligently mixing.
"I lied," he says. Buck frowns softly.
"But if that's how you-" Buck starts but then stops himself, decides to change gears just slightly- "there are a lot of different ways to be a- a family."
Chris looks back over at that, and Buck feels bolstered by the hint of cautious longing he thinks he sees reflected back at him in Chris's eyes.
"So I don't know," he continues. "Doesn't really feel like too much of a lie to me, I guess."
He mimics Chris's shrug, still aiming for as much nonchalance as he can manage. He's not sure how much he really pulls it off though, not when everything in him is screaming to just say it outright - You can claim me as anything you want and I'll love you exactly the same. I love you so much there's never going to be a word that feels big enough. He manages to hold back though, for Chris's sake. The moment feels too fragile already, and he wants to follow Chris's lead.
There's another beat of silence and then-
"Were you really-" Chris starts, voice still a little tentative. "Dad said you would've moved to Texas with us."
Buck swallows thickly, feeling his cheeks flush a little, even though he knows now that it wasn't unwanted, not really. It wasn't too much. Eddie told him it wasn't too much.
He can't help it, though; he still feels embarrassed.
Buck just loves so loudly, is the thing. So messily. It feels sometimes like his heart is beating outside his chest, staining red everywhere he touches.
He clears his throat again.
"Uh yeah," he admits. "I was thinking about it."
Chris levels him with a slightly assessing look and Buck tries not to squirm under the attention.
"But you really weren't dating then?" Chris asks, somewhat skeptically.
Buck flushes a little further. Dating. Because that's what they're doing now.
He's dating Eddie.
"No, we weren't dating yet," he says. Then, after a beat of hesitation- "But... I still- you're still my family. That doesn't- that was already true. Before."
He finds himself shaking his head a little, trying to stay in the present and not fall back to the place he'd been just a few days ago, before he'd finally put a name to the yawning chasm that had opened up inside his chest the day Eddie said he was leaving, threatening to devour him whole. Before Eddie had then turned around and told him they were coming back, that they were both coming home.
"It was hard enough missing you when you were gone for the summer," Buck admits. "I wasn't sure I could handle any longer than that, especially if I was gonna have to miss both of you guys at the same time."
Chris wordlessly hands over the finished batter as Buck turns on the stove top.
"The longer I was there-" Chris starts to say, but then he stops himself mid-sentence.
Buck pours the first, slightly imperfect circle out onto the griddle, and waits him out. After a beat Chris tries again.
"I know Dad kept saying I could come home whenever," he says, "but he- he never actually said I had to. So I started to think maybe he didn't actually want me to. That- I don't know. Maybe it was better for him, me being away."
His voice gets softer as he speaks and Buck feels his stomach ache again with how badly he wants to reach out to him. His hand twitches against the spatula he's holding and he takes a breath to steady it before he flips the pancake and then slides it over to the platter.
"Being your dad is like- Eddie's favorite thing in the world," Buck tells him, equally soft. "He let you go to your grandparents' because he thought that's what you needed. But he always wants you with him."
He starts on the next pancake and sees Chris watching his hands as they work.
"Abuela said Dad needed some time to focus on himself," Chris says after a moment, and Buck feels his jaw clench.
Your grandparents don't know anything, he doesn't say. They never should have let you run away like that. None of this is your fault, but they're the adults. They should have talked to Eddie, helped him fix things.
"I uh," he tries aloud, knowing he still has to say something to that. "Listen, your grandparents- I know they love you. Ah-and your dad. I just don't think they actually- I don't know if they really understand what he needs from them."
Chris nods again, altogether too knowing, and Buck remembers Eddie saying that he'd talked to Chris a little about some of the things that had happened with his parents back when Eddie was first discharged from the service.
"Yeah," Chris agrees, voice slightly heavier now. "Dad's mad at them."
"Well," Buck says, still flipping the pancakes, "you can be mad at someone and still love them."
He determinedly does not think about his own parents as he says this. One messed up family at a time.
"Yeah," Chris echoes again. He's taken a seat on the collapsible stool they keep for him next to the fridge, but he's still holding one of his crutches, twisting it idly in his hands, back and forth between them.
After a moment, he speaks again, and his voice is so soft Buck almost has to strain to hear him.
"Did Dad tell you what I said to him?" he asks.
Buck hesitates.
"He told me some of what you guys talked about," he hedges, unsure where Chris is going with the question, "about your mom and your grandparents and some of that stuff."
"I told him I hated him," Chris admits, voice still impossibly soft and now growing tight with emotion. "I didn't mean it, though. I was just really mad at him."
Buck switches off the stove and turns to face Chris more fully.
"He knows you didn't mean it," Buck tells him gently, trying to catch Chris's eyes so he can see just how confident Buck is in that statement.
When Chris does hesitantly meet Buck's eyes, there's still that same cautious longing he saw before.
"Are you sure?" Chris asks.
"There was not a single second of this summer that your dad didn't know you loved him," Buck assures him, with as much conviction as he can pour into the words. "Or a single second that he didn't love you right back."
Buck finds he can't stop himself then - he has to reach out. So he does, putting a hand on Chris's shoulder and trying his best to channel the calm, steadying presence that he imagines Eddie would be if he were here instead, the counterweight to Buck's always more frenetic energy.
"And I love you too, you know," he adds softly, not wanting to hold that back anymore either. "So much, Chris."
Chris looks away again, still fidgeting.
"Even when I don't text you back?" he asks, and Buck's heart drops.
"Oh buddy," he breathes out, his grip on Chris's shoulder inadvertently tightening just slightly. "You just needed some space. I understood that. It's okay."
Chris looks back up at him.
"I didn't though," he says. "I mean, I didn't- I didn't actually want you to stop texting, I just didn't know what to say."
"Oh," Buck says, slightly thrown. He'd thought- Shit. "Oh. Okay, well I- next time I won't stop then."
Chris snorts a little at that, but some of the tension he's been carrying seems to finally push it's way out of him right alongside the small huff of breath.
"Next time?" he repeats. "You mean the next time I run away to Texas?"
Buck rolls his eyes a little but still smiles back at him, letting his hand drop from Chris's shoulder as he moves to carry the platter of pancakes they've made over to the kitchen table.
"Next time you're pissed off at your dad," Buck clarifies. "Or at me. I won't stop trying to talk to you, no matter how long it takes for you to want to talk back. I promise."
Chris doesn't say anything, but he's smiling a little now too - a soft, shy sort of smile - and Buck thinks that's probably enough of an answer in and of itself.
He's just about to ask Chris if he wants milk or orange juice, when his train of thought gets interrupted by another presence joining them in the kitchen. He turns around and finds Eddie watching them, quietly leaning against the door frame the same way he had the night before, just a little more sleep rumpled this time.
"Good morning," he greets them with a soft smile, voice still slightly rough from sleep. Embarrassingly, Buck actually feels his heart rate kick up a little in response.
"Good morning," he manages to echo. "We were trying to let you sleep in."
Eddie glances over at the table.
"Pancakes?" he asks rhetorically.
"Chris decided on blueberry," Buck tells him, as Eddie pushes off the door frame and moves into the kitchen more fully.
He makes an aborted movement toward Buck, before seeming to catch himself, spine suddenly straightening with a slight tension, and then he changes course and moves toward the fridge instead, opening it and momentarily disappearing behind the door. Buck doesn't miss the little moment though, and neither, apparently, does Chris. He rolls his eyes when Eddie reappears, now carrying a carton of orange juice over to the table.
"I already know you guys are dating," Chris announces unceremoniously. "Buck was literally in your bed when I woke him up this morning."
Dating, Buck thinks again, still slightly hysterically. He wonders if that will ever stop sounding crazy to him. They haven't even talked about it, is the thing. Haven't officially given it a label like that. They haven't had a chance yet. But Buck isn't spiraling about it the way he knows he most likely would be with any other partner. He's not actually worried about it at all, he realizes.
It's Eddie.
"Oh," Eddie says, startled to a stop halfway turned towards the table. He looks over at Buck for a moment before returning his gaze to Chris. He still looks a little exhausted, Buck thinks. "Okay, well that's- Do we need to... talk about it?"
"You already gave me the talk," Chris snarks back, apparently having decided he's reached his limit on honest vulnerability for one morning.
And well- Buck can hardly blame him for that, honestly. Though it does feel a little unfair to Eddie, since he managed to sleep right through said vulnerability.
"Chris-" Eddie tries again, a flush rapidly hitting his cheeks at Chris's innuendo, but Chris just rolls his eyes again.
"It's fine, Dad," he says, cutting him off. "I don't care."
Eddie's eyes skate over to Buck again briefly, then back to Chris.
"You... don't?" he repeats, a little suspiciously, like he's already convinced this conversation is not going to go well for him, but he's not figured out just how exactly it's going to implode quite yet.
Chris sighs.
"Buck was already our family," he says, as he sets their plates out. "Right?"
"Of course he was," Eddie responds instantly, and Buck loves him so much. He's not sure if he's thought that enough yet this morning.
He loves them both so much.
"So whatever," Chris says with another shrug, still focused on setting the table.
Eddie looks back to Buck, a little helplessly.
"Whatever," he repeats softly. Buck shrugs back at him, but he can't help the grin he knows is still lighting up his face, that has been ever since Eddie entered the kitchen.
Eddie's own smile slowly grows to match it.
He finally sets the orange juice down on the table and then turns back towards Buck. He doesn't stop himself this time, instead cozying right up into Buck's space over by the counter.
"Good morning," he says again, the words soft enough to be just for Buck.
And then, without any kind of hesitation, Eddie kisses him. Right there in his sunlit kitchen, with Christopher standing just a few feet away from them.
Buck's stomach flutters, but he ends up breaking the kiss with a laugh when he hears Chris groan loudly behind them.
"Well, that one's kind of on you, bud," Buck tells him, as Eddie buries his own laughter in Buck's neck just like he had last night. Buck wonders if it'll always be like this between them; joy and love both intertwined, inseparable. "You just said it was whatever!"
"Can we just have breakfast please?" Chris asks. His tone is all long-suffering teenager, but there's none of the true sullenness he'd had at the beginning of the morning, so Buck isn't really worried. It only takes a few moments for he and Eddie to pull themselves back together, and then they both dutifully move to join Chris at the table.
And look- Buck knows it's not perfect. He knows there's still a lot for them to work through, to figure out. But he's here with his two favorite people in the world and he knows - he truly knows - that they want Buck to be here too. For once in his life, he doesn't doubt it at all.
They both want Buck's loud, messy kind of love.
Eddie hooks an ankle around Buck's under the table and smiles at him when it makes him look up. He subtly inclines his head toward Chris and Buck knows him well enough to read the clear thank you that's there in his eyes. Buck smiles back at him and it feels just like it always has with them. It feels like partnership. Like family.
And that's the thing really-
Why would Buck ever want perfect, when he gets to have this instead?