Work Text:
The first sign that something is amiss could easily be boiled down to a misunderstanding.
1. MRS PAYTON
Christopher likes his teacher, so Buck likes her too. He knows Mrs Payton through her whimsical homework sheets, admirable range of good job! stickers, and the stories Christopher shares over the dinner table. He’s never met her, but Eddie has — which makes sense, of course, because Eddie is Christopher’s parent, and Buck is Eddie’s friend.
He’s Eddie’s very good friend. He’s such a very good friend that he’s joining his good friend Eddie at his son’s Parents’ Night in a very chill, casual, and platonic way. And Buck is feeling the regular, normal level of utter delight about it all. He’s also, separately, experiencing a debilitating need for Mrs Payton to like him. He’s sure that’s regular and normal, too!
So everything’s fine! Everything’s fine, and Eddie is dressed very nicely, and oh god, there she is. Mrs Payton is coming their way - -
Buck wipes his sweaty palms on his pants as he spots her — he cannot have Christopher’s teacher thinking he has sweaty palms.
Mrs Payton has a nice smile, is the next thing he thinks, as she turns her warm smile on Eddie first, right before her eyes drop to Buck’s name tag.
Oh, fuck.
Buck isn’t used to this, is his excuse. Because while Eddie had written ‘Eddie Diaz,’ like a professional parent or guardian, Buck had already started writing ‘Buck’ before he realized he probably should’ve gone with ‘Evan Buckley,’ and by then it was either ‘Buck’ or ‘Buck Buckley,’ and he’d just gone with ‘Buck. ’
Fuck. How embarrassing.
And now she’s looking right at it. She’s going to know that he is entirely ill-equipped to be here.
Instead of scoffing or pointing and laughing, as he convinces himself she’s about to do, Mrs Payton beams. At him.
“Buck!” She gasps, like they’re long-lost friends. “Oh, I’m so glad you both could make it this time!” She smiles, a hand over her heart.
Then, absurdly, she looks Buck right in the eye and says: “I’ve heard so much about you, Mr Diaz. Christopher talks about you all the time.”
Buck resolutely does not look at whatever Eddie’s face is doing beside him.
“Oh!” Buck chuckles nervously. “Oh, no. I’m - - Buckley. Mr Buckley. Buck. You can just call me Buck.”
“Ah, that makes so much sense. Buckley,” she repeats, like it’s a missing piece of a puzzle. “I thought it was maybe a name Christopher uses for you — like how some grandparents pick a fun name like Gigi or Glamma, you know? Not that you’re a grandparent, of course. But I’m sure with ‘dad’ already taken - -” she continues nervously. “Anyway,” she cuts herself off, blushing. She turns to Eddie. “Mr Diaz, lovely to see you again.”
“Eddie, please,” Eddie insists. Buck cannot look at him, but he sounds relatively normal. That’s good. Everything is normal.
They start talking about how well Christopher is doing, and that’s one of Buck’s favorite topics in the world, but he can’t quite concentrate.
He’s, like, pretty sure that what he thinks maybe just happened didn’t actually happen. He thinks everything is probably completely fine.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine!
2. FAMILY PORTRAITS
The second sign that something is amiss is really just sweet more than anything, Buck decides.
Buck is practically vibrating out of his skin just being inside the classroom Christopher sits in all day. He’s heard so much about this place! Like there’s the desk that Milo turned into a drum kit last week, and there’s the cubby Molly filled with bugs.
Not only does he get to be here, but he gets to look at all the things they do here. The walls are lined with artworks and projects, all on display for Parents’ Night.
The first one they come across is a wall of drawings, FAMILY PORTRAITS written above the artworks. They scan the names on every one until they spot Christopher’s.
“Ohh! Here!” Eddie grins, pointing to the best of the bunch. Buck hasn’t even seen it yet, and he knows this to be true.
Buck gasps and graces his eyeballs with its presence. It’s some of his best work. Of course it is. The kid is a genius.
There’s a sun, a tree, and three people smiling in the grass, each labeled ‘Dad!,’ ‘Me!,’ and ‘Buck!’. There is also a dog.
Buck can’t really process the dog because Buck is too busy staring at his own name and stick figure on Christopher’s family portrait.
“Huh,” Eddie hums. “Is that a dog?”
LIKE THAT’S THE MOST INSANE THING HAPPENING HERE?? Buck wants to scream. Instead, he shrugs and says, “It sure looks like a dog.”
Eddie tilts his head, examining the artwork harder, like that will explain the existence of the dog. “We don’t have a dog.”
“We - -” Buck stammers. “No. No, we don’t have a dog.”
“We’re not getting a dog,” Eddie says, mostly to himself. He frowns, turning to Buck. “Do you think he wants a dog?”
3. ALL ABOUT ME!
Buck is honored, don’t get him wrong. It is the honor of his life to be in Christopher’s family portrait. And, Eddie doesn’t say anything, so it’s probably fine. It’s probably completely normal and fine.
The next display features a bunch of pieces of paper, filled out with everything from pink cursive handwriting to barely legible pencil.
The display is called ALL ABOUT ME!
This time, Buck is the first to find Christopher’s. “Here!” He grins, pointing at the familiar handwriting.
ALL ABOUT ME:
Name: Christopher Diaz
Age: 8
Favorite color: Red
Favorite food: Buck’s
Favorite class: English
When I grow up, I want to be: Surfer
My mom Buck is a: firefighter
My dad is a: hero
We like to: go to the zoo!
We live in: a house
It makes me happy when: we walk our dog
Buck is frozen where he’s standing. He can’t even breathe.
“Has he ever mentioned a dog to you?” Eddie frowns, bewildered. “When is he walking dogs?”
4. THIS SUMMER I’M EXCITED TO:
“He knows we can’t get a dog,” Eddie continues as they move along to the next display. He’s really caught up on the dog thing. “Unless it’s a support dog. Maybe I should look into support dogs again.”
“Uh-huh,” Buck offers vacantly. My Buck is a firefighter. My Buck is a firefighter. My Buck is a firefighter.
“It just seems like a lot of responsibility,” Eddie’s saying, but it’s not really reaching Buck’s brain.
They stop in front of a wall full of colorful pages — a mix of drawings and words. “THIS SUMMER I’M EXCITED TO:” is printed above the pages.
Buck lets out a breath. This is good. This is fine. He can be normal about summer.
They both hunt for Christopher’s name, and he’s fairly sure they find it at the exact same time by the way they freeze in unison.
Christopher’s page is a pale blue, the words: ‘Go on vacation with my dads!’ are printed above another drawing of the three of them and a dog.
Just in case there was any room for misunderstanding, one of the dads has a birthmark that looks suspiciously just like Buck’s.
“Hmm,” Eddie hums. “That’s - - huh. Are we - -” He frowns, cocking his head at the artwork. “Are we going on a vacation I don’t know about?”
Buck clears his throat. “Um,” he swallows. “I mean - - we can,” he tries.
Eddie hums again, but Buck can’t look at him.
“And who the fuck is this dog?” Eddie adds under his breath.
5. RHYMING TIME
The great thing about walls is that there’s usually only four of them. That means there’s only one wall left for Buck to be chill and normal and casual about.
Somehow, he manages to move his body from go on vacation with my dads to the next wall, deemed ‘RHYMING TIME’.
Instead of colorful pages and paintings, this wall is full of printed-out paragraphs, clearly cut out by the students. They’re poems, he guesses, or stories that rhyme.
Naively, he thinks he might be safe.
But right there, smack bang in the middle, is Christopher’s. Proudly titled: When My Dads Got Married.
“Oh dear god,” Eddie whispers beside him.
Buck’s soul leaves his body.
When My Dads Got Married
When my dads got married, I helped to pick the rings. Me and my dog, Lucky, helped with lots and lots of things. When my dads got married, it was a really sunny day. I was so, so, so, so happy, because it meant that Buck would stay. When my dads got married, everybody clapped. Except for our dog, Lucky, because it was time he took a nap.
– Christopher D.
“Lucky,” Eddie whispers. “I swear to god we don’t know a dog called Lucky.”
The car is dead silent.
Mere moments ago, Mrs Payton had congratulated them on raising such a delightful child. You know, just the usual chit chat — thanks for coming, so great to see you again, oh, and congrats on that wedding you definitely had to each other attended by your shared child and the dog you definitely own — Christopher’s story was the class favorite!
Buck had frozen, stuttering through some kind of thanks. Eddie had handled it much better, saying, “Oh yes, he’s always been a bit of a storyteller. Very creative kid.”
Then they’d walked to the car in silence, got into the car in silence, and now they’re sitting in the car in silence.
“I kind of feel like I need to get him a dog,” Eddie says, breaking the silence as Buck pulls out onto the road.
Buck chokes on a laugh. He feels insane. “That’s your takeaway?”
“Well, I can’t - -” Eddie sighs, cutting himself off. Lets out a breath. “I didn’t know he - - he’s been dreaming up this whole other life that I can’t give him,” he sniffs. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
Buck hums. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I mean it’s - - it’s not so far from reality, is it? I’m not - - I’m not going anywhere. I mean - - if it’s up to me.”
That’s good. That’s harmless. That’s true, and doesn’t give everything away.
“Well, good,” Eddie sighs. “Because the whole school thinks we’re married, apparently.” He rubs his hands over his face. “I can - - I’ll talk to him. Talk to his teachers. Get it figured out. I don’t like that he’s lying, but I - -”
“But you what?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie offers quietly. “I kind of get it. It sounds kind of nice to me.”
Buck whips his head over. “Yeah?”
“Sure,” Eddie shrugs. “You don’t think so?”
What a ridiculous question. He forces his eyes back to the road.
“No, no, I - - I mean yes. Yes, I do think so. The whole - - the white picket fence. The family dog. Getting to hang out with you guys all the time. Who wouldn’t want that?”
“You’d want that?”
Buck shrugs. “That’s like - - the dream, right?”
Fuck. Fuck. That’s too much. He said too much.
Eddie is staring at the side of his face, but he can’t look. He keeps his eyes straight ahead.
“With…me?” Eddie says eventually.
Buck lets out a breath. He fucked it. Fuck. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I - - sorry. I know it’s not like that. I just got caught up in it, I think. Seeing it like that. Don’t - - just ignore me. Sorry.”
“No, I - -” Eddie tries. “We could get a dog. We could go on vacation. We could - - we could live in a house, and you could make dinner, and you could - - you could stay.”
Buck’s head snaps over to Eddie against his will. He’s looking back at him, all big, brown, sincere eyes and his stupid, perfect face. Buck stares at him.
He doesn’t get it.
“What? Eddie, we already could do most of that,” he tries to explain. Begs him to understand.
“But I could - - you could always come with me,” Eddie adds. “To parents’ nights. Hear how great our kid is.”
Buck can’t breathe. “We already do that,” he reminds him. He doesn’t get it. It’s not the same.
“I know,” Eddie sighs, frustrated. “But we could - - we could do it properly. We could do it for real.”
Buck feels kind of sick. “Eddie,” he tries, gently. “You know I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to pretend you’d want to - - to marry me just because of Christopher. He’s just - - kids think that’s what you do when you love someone. It’s okay that you don’t love me like that.”
Eddie is quiet for a moment while Buck assesses if he needs to pull the car over to puke. “I don’t think he’s the one that’s confused,” Eddie admits quietly. Buck forgets about the bile in his throat. “He’s just seeing what’s in front of him and calling it what it is.”
Buck chokes. “What?”
“Isn’t he?” Eddie asks. “We act like - - Buck. We act like a married couple. We raise a kid together. I want to be with you all the time. What else is that? I saw everything he wanted, and I thought, ‘I want that, too.’”
Oh, fuck. Oh. He does get it. He gets it.
“You already have it,” Buck breathes.
Eddie groans. “Buck, come on - -”
“No,” Buck cuts him off. Because Buck gets it, and Eddie gets it, and they’re going to get it. They’re going to get everything. “I mean - - I mean you already have it,” he clarifies, heart in his throat. “If you want it. I want it, too.”
“Oh,” Eddie breathes, visibly relaxing against the backrest. “Okay. Good,” he declares.
Buck, because he’s driving and really has no other choice, turns back to the road. A moment later, Eddie asks:
“And where are we landing on the dog?”