the dream you wish will come true

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/30876464.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV)
Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Characters: Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1
TV), Ana Flores (9-1-1 TV), Josephina "Pepa" Diaz, Carla Price
Additional Tags: POV Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz is a National
Treasure, Christopher Diaz Saves the Day (9-1-1 TV), Anti-Ana Flores,
Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Eddie Diaz is a Wonderful
Father, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2021-04-24 Completed: 2021-04-26 Words: 29,862 Chapters:
3/3
 the dream you wish will come true
by woodchoc_magnum

Summary

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former
teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

Notes

Hi everyone, and welcome to another anti-Ana Flores fic because I can't help myself.

😊
This is the first time I've tried to write almost an entire fic from Christopher's POV, but Buck
and Eddie have their moments in here as well.

This fic is finished - I'll post the next chapter tomorrow and the final chapter on Monday.

Enjoy!

See the end of the work for more notes

 Chapter 1

Dad was all flustered.

Flustered was a great new word he'd learned from one of his books, and it definitely applied
to his father, who was bustling around the house in a cleaning frenzy.

He wasn't sure what the big deal was – Ms Flores had been to their house three times, and she
was nice enough, but Christopher had been kind of hoping his dad would realise that she was
also kinda boring and lame and not fun.

Not like Buck, anyway.

And he was frustrated, because he'd been trying for almost a year to nudge Dad in Buck's
direction. His brilliant scheme began when they watched a super old movie together – The
Parent Trap – and Christopher had an idea. Why couldn't he do that for Dad and Buck? They
loved him, and he loved them, and he could bring them together and then he would have
Buck there all the time. They would all be happy, and it would be awesome – he dreamt
about it a lot.

But so far they hadn't taken the bait. Buck was always at their house, and it was clear to
Christopher that he belonged there with them – he kept telling Dad how much he liked him,
how he wished Buck was around more, and Dad just kind of smiled and said that he liked it
as well.

So now Christopher was left with no choice but to parent trap them. It was just how it had to
be.

"Kiddo, lift your legs," Dad said, stressing. Christopher did as he was told and watched as
Dad vacuumed the carpet below his feet.

Buck had wanted to buy them one of those super cool robot vacuums – the little round ones –
but Dad had flipped out about having too many robots in his house. So he was still using their
crummy, ancient vacuum that looked like it was ready to fall apart, and even though Buck
made fun of him all the time, he insisted on using it and glowering at Buck whenever he tried
to suggest other options.

It was so funny when they bickered back and forth - it was just the funniest thing ever and
Christopher loved it so much. He was never happier than when Buck was hanging out with
them, making fun of Dad, and teaming up with him to pull pranks.

Christopher didn't like it so much when Dad and Buck teamed up against him, but thankfully
that didn't happen very often.

Dad finished vacuuming, pushed his hands through his hair and said, "Chris, maybe go and
change, okay? Put on a nice shirt."
Christopher looked down at the dinosaur t-shirt Buck had given him and wrinkled his nose.
"Why?"

"Just… because Ms Flores is coming for dinner, so we need to look nice."

"Why?" he asked again.

Dad sighed. "Because we like her."

We like her? Christopher eyed him skeptically, and then slid off the couch. Maybe Dad liked
Ms Flores – he wasn't sure why – but Christopher still wasn't sold. She'd been his teacher,
and it still felt weird to have her in his house. He liked his history teacher a lot, but it wasn't
like he wanted Mr Jeffries to be his Dad's friend.

He liked Buck, and he hated that Dad dating Ms Flores meant that Buck wasn't around as
much. It made it hard for him to execute his perfect plan to have them fall in love with each
other.

Plus, she was boring. All she did was talk to Dad and Christopher hated it. When Buck was
over, they played games and had fun.

He just wanted Buck. It was so unfair.

Ms Flores had arrived promptly at six thirty, carrying with her a big, covered oven dish. It
smelled good as she carried it through the house, but Christopher left her and Dad to talk in
the kitchen while he went into his bedroom to finish his homework and to send Buck some
funny videos he'd found on YouTube.

Dad called for him, and he found them in the dining room – the food was laid out on the
table. Ms Flores said it was roast beef – that she'd spent some time in England and learned
how to make it properly – but as Christopher took his seat, he realised that the meat was…
pink.

Which meant it was uncooked. Right?

He had two slices of raw meat, some sweet potatoes, asparagus and Brussels sprouts. Dad
cooked roast beef for them every so often and it never looked like this. Dad drenched it in
gravy and served it with mashed potatoes, some cauliflower and peas and carrots, and he
loved it.

This looked… different, and he wasn't sure about it at all. He looked over at his Dad for
confirmation, and Dad met his eyes, a little apologetically.

Ms Flores lifted a jug off the table and leaned over to Christopher's plate. "I'll just pour a little
red wine jus on here—"

"No, no," Dad said quickly, stopping her before she could add any to his plate.
"Oh, the alcohol is cooked down—"

"I think red wine is pushing it," he said delicately. "Christopher is nine - I'd prefer him to not
develop a taste for red wine until he's at least a teenager."

Ms Flores laughed. She looked a little embarrassed, and said, "Sorry, I… I wanted to impress
you."

"I'm very impressed," he reassured her, "and uh… please don't take this the wrong way, but
I'm going to have to get some ketchup for Chris."

"Oh, okay," she replied quizzically, turning to watch as Dad ducked into the kitchen to
retrieve the bottle of ketchup.

Christopher wanted to ask him if he really expected him to eat raw meat – it was red – but
just as he was thinking that was too rude, her phone began to ring in her handbag, and she
hurried to answer it.

When Dad returned to the table, Christopher grabbed his wrist and whispered, "It's raw?"

"No, it's not," Dad whispered back. "It's just pink. It's cooked – that's not blood. That's how
it's supposed to look."

Christopher shook his head. "I can't."

"I know." Dad chewed on his lower lip, thinking it over. "The end pieces are a little more
cooked," he said, lifting his plate off the table. "I'll be right back."

He was back in less than a minute, with some considerably darker meat. Dad squirted some
ketchup on top, held his finger to his lips, and then slipped into his seat.

"I'm so sorry," Ms Flores apologised, hurrying back to the table. "It was my sister – my niece
has been unwell, but she was just calling to let me know that the antibiotics have kicked in
and she's doing much better. It's a relief."

"I'm glad she's on the mend," Dad said, smiling at her.

Ms Flores poured some sauce onto his plate and then hers, and then said, "Okay, let's eat. I
really hope you enjoy it."

"I'm sure we will," Dad replied, glancing over at Christopher and nodding almost
imperceptibly at him.

He sighed, picking up his fork. It was just meat and vegetables, he told himself, but the first
bite was so peppery that he had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Is this a pepper rub?" Dad asked Ms Flores curiously.

She nodded, beaming. "My own special recipe."

Dad nodded, and shot Christopher another rueful look. "He's not really used to a lot of
pepper," he tried to explain. "Chris, just eat as much you can for me, okay?"

"Maybe you'll like it," Ms Flores said to him encouragingly. "Give it a try."

He didn't like asparagus, he didn't like sprouts and he didn't like sweet potato. He really didn't
want to eat any of it, and while Dad and Ms Flores were distracted with their conversation, he
began to cut everything into small portions in the hopes that it would look like he'd eaten
some of it.

Dad kept glancing at him, like he knew what he was doing. He probably did. Dad knew all of
Christopher's tricks.

Ms Flores talked about her school, and how she liked being a Vice Principal more than a
teacher. Some of the kids at her school sounded bad – she told Dad about how there was a
fire set in the toilets one day, and how they had to call the police once because a kid brought a
gun to school in his backpack.

Some of it was interesting, he guessed, but he preferred Buck's stories – the ones that were
about him and Dad were always so amazing. They swung down the sides of buildings; they
rescued people who were trapped – sometimes they even had to climb down cliffs. And there
were funny stories too, like the lady who got her head stuck in a tailpipe, or the time they had
to rescue a trapped clown and the leaking helium tanks made them all talk in high-pitched
voices. Buck's impression of Bobby was especially funny, and he and Dad had howled with
laughter when they were telling him all about it.

He met Dad's eyes again. Dad looked tense – his shoulders were stiff – but he was trying so
hard to be friendly and to listen, and Christopher just wondered… why?

Why her?

She was nice, sure, but she wasn't Buck. He didn't understand why Dad was doing this. Why
they had to eat this fancy food and dress up and not be themselves… why was everything so
formal?

Christopher smashed his fork into his potatoes, and then brought the tiniest amount to his
lips. Dad glanced over at him again, pleadingly, silently begging him to eat a little more.

It was gross and he just couldn't, so he smushed the potatoes and hid them under some meat,
and then began to cut the asparagus into tiny pieces.

"So Christopher," Ms Flores said, turning to him for the first time since they'd sat down at the
table. "How's school?"

He glanced at his Dad, who gave him an encouraging smile. "It's fine, I guess," he said with a
shrug.

Dad cleared his throat, and then said, "Christopher is reading a book about Ancient Greece."
At that he grinned, sitting up a little straighter. "Buck gave me a book about Troy. It's so cool.
There was this woman, and she was so beautiful that they sent an army across the sea—"

"Helen of Troy," Ms Flores cut in – she was using her teacher voice.

Momentarily taken aback, he paused, and then said, "Yeah. But I don't know what happens
after that yet."

"I could tell you," she said with a smile, leaning forward. "They build a horse to hide soldiers
inside—"

No spoilers! "No – I'm reading the book!" he protested urgently. "I don't want to know what
happens yet."

Ms Flores held up her hands, letting out a laugh. "I'm sorry. I think it's so interesting that
these are the kinds of books you're reading. It's almost like you're doing extra credit work."

"They haven't started on the ancient civilisations yet," Dad explained. "That's in the second
half of the year. They're studying Columbus at the moment and he doesn't find that as
interesting."

"Because of what happened to the Native Americans," Christopher said, looking to his father
for confirmation. "I hate it."

Dad nodded at him ruefully. "Yeah, kiddo. It's pretty brutal. Eat some greens for me, would
you?"

Dad wanted him to eat a sprout? He tried not to grimace, cutting one in half, drowning it in
sauce and then putting it into his mouth. Gross.

"I guess I thought you'd be more interested in bugs, or cars, or sports," Ms Flores said to him.

He had his mouth full, so he looked over at his Dad again. Dad said, "He goes through
phases. There was a big dinosaur phase last year. He's always interested in anything to do
with the solar system, space or NASA. He and Buck were reading about the Bermuda
Triangle a few months ago and then about pirates. The Ancient Greece thing came about
because he and Buck watched a documentary about it."

"And you played the Switch," Christopher said with a giggle.

Dad admonished him with a playful look. "I was relaxing."

"Documentaries are relaxing!"

"Video games are more relaxing," he replied with a grin. "I rely on you guys to give me the
highlights."

"Ah, so the interest in ancient history isn't coming from you," Ms Flores said knowingly.
Dad shrugged at her. "School wasn't my favourite thing," he admitted. "But I want
Christopher to follow any interest he has, and so if it's ancient history, then it's ancient
history." He took a couple of bites of his meal, and then said, "We're lucky to have Buck – he
and Christopher share the same interests."

"Buck helps me find books," Christopher said to her. "He buys them on his Amazon account
because he says Dad is too cheap."

Dad nearly choked on a piece of beef. "Christopher!"

"He does say that," he insisted, as Ms Flores chuckled politely.

Dad quickly sipped some water, and then tried to explain, "Buck has Prime – he has my card
info saved to his account, but he has a secure parcel locker at his building and has everything
shipped to him."

She looked a little surprised, but nodded. "It's nice of him to do that for you."

"Well, he's our best friend," Dad said to Christopher, who smiled at him. "Now that
Christopher is home all the time, he doesn't get to see his school friends, so Buck is the next
best thing. He's a great guy; you'll like him."

"I'm sure I will." Ms Flores had a bite of her dinner, and then said in a low voice, "Are you
sure about the books he's picking out though? Some of the topics can be a little adult," she
said, and then mouthed something to Dad that he couldn't quite pick up on. Something that
started with an 'S'.

Dad shook his head in amusement. "No, it's okay – Buck loves research. He would've
checked it all out to make sure it was okay."

She looked skeptical. "I would just double-check."

"It's fine," Dad reiterated firmly, and when she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, "You
don't know Buck – he wouldn't have given him the book if there was something bad in it.
Christopher likes reading about history. I'm not going to tell him not to read about the things
he's interested in."

"Okay, okay," she replied, holding her hands up in an 'I surrender' gesture - and Christopher
could just tell that she didn't believe Dad at all.

He was totally confused – what could a book about Ancient Greece possibly have in it that
was bad? The book he was reading was about this woman, Helen, and how there was a big
war between the Spartans and the Trojans, all because Helen had left with one guy and there
was this other guy who was in love with her. It was interesting.

They were chatting about something that had happened at Dad's work, and he pushed his
vegetables around on the plate, wondering how much of them he would have to eat to fool
them into thinking he'd enjoyed it, and if Helen of Troy really was as beautiful as the book
said she was. Car headlights suddenly lit up the room and he lifted his head curiously, turning
towards the front windows – Buck's jeep was pulled up outside, and he was jogging towards
the house.

"Buck's here," he said to Dad, who looked surprised.

"Sorry," he apologised to Ms Flores, rising to his feet. "I'll be right back."

She looked perplexed, peering over at the front door – Buck let himself in with his key,
peeking in apologetically. "Hey man – oh, sorry. You're still eating dinner," he said, stepping
further into the house.

"Hey Buck!" Christopher called.

"Hey buddy," he said with a wave. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's okay," Dad replied, turning to Ms Flores. "Ana, this is Evan Buckley, Christopher's best
friend."

Buck waved to her awkwardly. "It's really nice to meet you," he said, shoving his hands in his
pockets. "Sorry to interrupt your dinner – it smells great, by the way."

"Oh, thank you," she replied, smiling warmly at him. "I've heard so much about you. It's nice
to put a face to the name."

"All good things, I hope," Buck said with a grin, and then turned to Eddie. "Those boxes
turned up today from Ikea for Christopher's shelves. I was on the way to Maddie's and just
wanted to drop them off."

"I'll help you bring them in," Dad replied, and followed him outside.

Christopher slid of his seat and followed them to the door, watching as Dad and Buck jogged
out to the car – they were both laughing together, and he wondered again why Dad didn't
want to be with Buck when Buck made him smile so much.

"Christopher, do you want me to get your crutches?" Ms Flores asked from behind him. "You
haven't finished your dinner – maybe you should sit down and eat some more vegetables."

He was hanging onto the wall near the door, watching as Buck and Dad unloaded two big
boxes from the trunk. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

He looked up at her in confusion, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he repeated, wishing she
would just leave him alone.

Dad and Buck re-entered the house, setting the boxes down. Buck immediately swung him up
into his arms for a burly hug – Christopher laughed, wrapping his arms around his neck and
clinging on like a monkey.

"Big day on Saturday," Dad said to them. "We'll put all of this together."
"Yeah, it'll be like you have a whole new bedroom," Buck agreed.

Ms Flores was examining the boxes. "What are you building?" she asked curiously.

"It's a new bookshelf for Christopher's room," Dad explained. "It's a desk with shelves all
around it. He's running out of room for all his books and everything is a little crowded, so we
thought this might solve the problem. Buck's going to help me put it all together."

"Yeah, the rest of it should be delivered tomorrow and I'll bring it over on Saturday," Buck
added. "And then we can start assembling."

"I can help," Christopher said eagerly.

"That's the plan; you're the foreman. You get to hold the plans and tell us what to do," Buck
agreed, swinging him around. "Sound cool?"

"Super cool," he agreed, glancing over to find Dad gazing at them fondly.

Buck patted his back, and then lowered him to the ground. "All right, I'm going to run," he
said, ruffling Christopher's hair. "You enjoy the rest of your dinner."

"Where are you going?" Christopher asked, holding onto his hand, not wanting him to leave.
"You could stay."

"I'm sorry kiddo, I'm going to have dinner with Maddie and Chimney," he apologised. "But
I'll see you on the weekend."

"What are you having for dinner?" he pressed, as Dad laughed and gently tugged him away.

Buck smiled at him. "I don't know – probably take-out. Maddie's not a great cook. She's had a
craving for Indian food lately."

"Maddie is Buck's sister, and she's eight months pregnant," Dad explained to Ms Flores, who
nodded understandingly. "Lots of cravings."

"Spicy Indian food is currently number one," Buck added, as Christopher clung to his hand
again. "I'm sorry, buddy. I can't stay."

He knew that, but he wanted another hug, and held his arms out. Buck dropped to his knees
and enfolded him in his arms, patting his back. "I miss you," Christopher said in his ear.

"You'll see me all weekend, I promise." Buck sounded a little sad. "Okay?"

"Okay."

If Buck was coming over on the weekend, that meant that Christopher had another
opportunity to figure out some way to have Dad fall in love with him… he just wasn't sure
how.

~
Ms Flores left before Christopher went to bed, and as soon as she was gone, Dad put the
leftovers into a container and then into the fridge. He retrieved a bright purple container from
the bottom of the fridge and said, "You hardly ate any of that. Nice try with the mashing
everything up to make it look you were eating trick – I perfected that when I was a kid."

Christopher blushed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was a little too rich for you. I don't think Ms Flores has had much experience
cooking for kids, and you've got a fairly limited palette," Dad teased.

"What's a palette?"

"Your palette is what food you like to eat." Dad dished out some spaghetti into a bowl and
then put it into the microwave. "You'll like this; Buck made it."

"Buck's spaghetti and meatballs?"

"Yep." Dad pulled himself up onto the counter, gazing down at the floor. He looked like he
was deep in thought about something.

Christopher thought back to dinner and how Dad had seemed to be trying so hard to impress
Ms Flores… and how he'd actually looked relieved when she left? Like he could just be
himself again - rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, and
then kicking off his dress shoes. Just like that, he was back to normal.

He couldn't understand why Dad was trying so hard when he was so much happier and more
relaxed when she wasn't around. Christopher decided he just didn't understand adult
relationships. They were so much work.

The microwave dinged, and Dad hopped off the counter and retrieved the bowl. He stole a
bite before setting it down in front of Christopher, made an appreciative noise, and then
shoved the container in the microwave to heat the rest.

Christopher dug into his dinner happily. Buck had told him once that he learned from Bobby
how to make his own pasta sauce, and when he'd made the same dish for them at home,
Christopher had watched him roll all the meatballs and cook them all up before adding them
to the pasta and sauce. They were always delicious and the batch they were devouring was no
exception.

Dad loved Buck's cooking.

"Dad," he said, twirling spaghetti on his fork, "are you in love with Ms Flores?"

Dad turned to him, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "No."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Um… we're dating. We're getting to know each other," he replied slowly. "Why?"

"When does a girl become a girlfriend?" he asked seriously.

Dad shrugged. "I don't know, but Ana and I are just friends right now."

He nodded, taking another bite of spaghetti. He watched as Dad took the rest out of the
microwave and sat across from him, digging in enthusiastically. After he'd had a chance to
eat a few bites, Christopher said, "It's weird."

Dad blinked at him. "What is?"

"Ms Flores being here… it's weird because she was my teacher."

"Oh." Dad frowned. "Well, I'm hoping that as time goes on, you might become friends."

As time goes on? He grimaced, poking at his spaghetti again. "No."

"But she thinks you're great, you know – she's always telling me what an awesome kid you
are."

Well, that was kind of nice to hear – she had been one of his favourite teachers, but… she
wasn't Buck. He sighed, pushing his food around. "Sure."

"Chris…" Dad's voice was pleading. "She's very nice. Would you give her a chance for me?"

Sometimes in his head, he said bad words – not that he would ever say them in front of Dad
or Buck, but they didn't have to know what he was thinking.

And right now, he was thinking god damn it.

Buck arrived early Saturday morning – he was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and an old
flannel shirt, and Christopher giggled as Dad mercilessly teased him.

"Hey, Seattle in 1992 called – they want the grunge look back."

"I was only one," Buck shot back. "And you can't talk – there's a huge hole in your shirt."

"That's meant to be there," Dad countered, lifting his arm to display the gaping hole – though
when Buck snatched out a hand and tickled his ribs, he let out a laugh and hopped away from
him.

Buck was grinning at him, pleased with himself. "You look like you're meant to be in an 80s
hair band or something," he said. "Just mess up your hair a bit, Eddie, and tie a scarf around
your waist."

"No," Dad grumbled. "At least I don't look like I was kicked out of Nirvana."

Buck looked down at himself. "Hey, I make this look good."

"Wouldn't have picked you for ripped jeans, Buck. Did you buy them like that? Pre-ripped?"
Dad teased.
"No! These jeans are ancient," Buck protested. "I've had them since I worked on the ranch in
Montana. These are genuine work jeans – yours, on the other hand, are the ones you got for
Christmas from your sisters, and I know those are expensive."

"They're just jeans," Dad complained.

"They're from Banana Republic – they're not some off-brand from Kmart. Those things
actually cost money and you're going to spend the day helping me build stuff in them?"

"You're helping me build stuff," Dad countered.

"It was my idea."

Christopher suddenly cleared his throat, and they both turned to him. "It was my idea," he
said proudly.

Dad grinned at him, nodding. "It was," he agreed, "because you hate doing your schoolwork
out here in the dining room. So we're going to build a whole area for you in your room."

"I borrowed some of Chimney's tools," Buck said, holding up a toolkit. "He told me if we
break anything, I have to replace it without telling him."

"Hey, Kurt Cobain, I have tools," Dad protested.

Buck rolled his eyes, holding up the toolkit. "But these are Chimney's tools," he said
meaningfully, and Dad laughed. "And we both know that it's driving him nuts, us working on
a project without his input."

"I thought you would've invited Bobby around," Dad teased.

"No, but he is on speed dial if we need him. You ready to start unboxing everything?"

"Let's do it. Christopher! You're in charge of the toolbox."

Christopher sat on his bed and watched with interest as they worked. Dad and Buck talked
the whole time – they never ran out of things to say to each other, and a few times Buck had
Dad laughing so hard he had to lie down on the floor.

The desk/bookshelf combo they were assembling came in a flatpack – Buck had ordered it
from Ikea – and there were a couple of minor arguments at the start about how it was
supposed to go, before they actually read the instructions and seemed to figure it out.

He couldn’t understand why they didn't want this all the time – the three of them, together.
Why didn't they want to be together?

His friend James had two moms, and there were twins in another class who had two dads – so
why couldn't Dad and Buck be with each other? Dad should be with the person who made
him the happiest, and that was Buck. Christopher could see that, so why couldn't Dad?
He watched as they worked together effortlessly to build the desk and it wasn't too long
before they were mounting it to the wall. Dad was running the drill, with Buck holding
everything in place – they didn't really have to talk to each other; they just… fit. Perfectly.

He could see it! It was as clear as day. Why were they so blind to it?

Dad decided they needed to take a break for lunch, and that he wanted these special spicy
sandwiches from a nearby deli, so he left Christopher and Buck on the couch while he went
to buy some. Buck was flipping through the channels, his lips pursed in concentration,
searching for something decent for them to watch.

"Buck," Christopher said thoughtfully, "when did you know that Dad was your best friend?"

"You're my best friend."

"Second best friend then."

Buck grinned at him, lowering the volume. "Um… I don't know. I never really had a best
friend before I met your dad. I've always had plenty of friends, but not a best friend."

He nodded, chewing his lower lip. "Not even when you were in school?"

Buck shook his head. "Nope. I was always surrounded by people, and I had a lot of friends,
but no one that I would call a best friend. And no one that I still keep in touch with now."

Christopher frowned at him. "When did it change?"

"When I came to LA and joined the 118," Buck replied. "It was the first place I really felt like
I could just be myself. Somehow I lucked out and found myself a family, and then your Dad
came along, and then I met you. And the rest is history."

"So things are better now," he said, "because of us."

Buck laughed. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, ruffling Christopher's hair. "We just all found each
other at the right time."

Christopher rested his head against Buck's shoulder. He loved him so much, and he loved
hearing about how he and Dad had met and become friends, so he asked, "But when did you
know that Dad was your best friend?"

"Um…" Buck thought for a moment, slumping back against the couch cushions. "I don't
know. I guess it just kind of happened naturally? There wasn't a moment where I was like,
Eddie's my best friend now. We just clicked from day… one, kind of, and I just always found
your dad really easy to talk to. And this is gonna sound dumb," he said, draping his arm
around Christopher's shoulders, "but from time to time in your life you're going to be really
excited about something, you know? Whether it's a movie, or a band, or a book, or a new
hobby – something is going to set your brain on fire, and you'll want to talk about it to
anyone who'll listen. Your dad is the only person in my whole entire life who listens to me
when I'm talking to him about whatever I'm into. He listens, and asks questions, and
remembers – that's… amazing, to me."

Dad was like that. Exactly like that. If Christopher was interested in something, Dad never
teased him or joked about it – he listened and asked questions. And Christopher had never
thought that was strange – wasn't that something that all parents did?

"But your Mom and Dad did that too, right?" he asked softly.

Buck shook his head. "No, they didn't. Your Dad is special, Chris. He's never dismissed me –
when I talk to him about something, he listens. It's a trait he's passed onto you and it's a great
trait to have."

Christopher considered him, and then said in a low voice, "I'm sad."

"Why?" Buck asked, immediately alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"That you never had a best friend before Dad and me."

"Oh, kiddo – it's okay," he said reassuringly. "Sometimes it takes a while to find where we
belong, that's all. You and your dad are the same – you needed to find where you belong as
well."

I think we're still looking, he thought, shifting closer to Buck. I think you are too.

Buck gazed at him, his brow furrowed. "What's going on? You've been quiet all day."

He wondered if he should try to nudge Buck towards Dad – it would require telling a little
lie, but hopefully it would give him a push. "It's just that… Dad's keeping a secret from you,"
he said in a low voice.

Buck's eyebrows shot up. "He is?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know what it is?"

He nodded shyly. "Yes."

Buck frowned. "Is he going to tell me what it is?"

"I hope so."

"You could just tell me," Buck pointed out. "What's the secret?"

He held a finger to his lips, shaking his head. "I can't."

"Hmmm." Buck pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Okay. I can wait until he tells me. Is that the
only thing going on? Your Dad said you were quiet during dinner with Ms Flores the other
night."
He heaved a sigh, slumping against Buck's shoulder. "I didn't like the food."

"Why not? It looked pretty nice from where I was."

"It was raw meat," he said, wrinkling his nose.

Buck laughed. "No, it was just medium-rare, I think. Probably not well done enough for your
taste buds, though. You didn't try it?"

He shook his head. "Dad heated up the spaghetti you gave him after she left."

"Good thing I gave him my leftovers then," Buck replied, ruffling his hair. "Sorry you didn't
like the food, buddy. I'm sure the next thing she cooks will be better."

Christopher shrugged. "I don't know. Buck… things aren't going to change, right? You'll still
be here?"

Buck nodded emphatically. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But she's here as well."

Realisation flashed across Buck's face. "I know," he said gently. "But just because your dad
and Ms Flores are spending time together, doesn't mean that I won't still be around. And if
you want to talk to me, you know you can call me any time of the day or night."

Christopher nodded seriously. He was going to hold him to that.

By the end of the day, his desk and shelving had been installed, and Buck had already lined
up all of his books on the shelves. It looked so awesome, and he couldn't believe that it was
actually his bedroom – he just wanted to stay awake and stare at it all night.

"I got you something else," Buck announced, and Dad turned to him with surprise. "It's a
lamp – I saw it online and had to get it. I'll be right back." He quickly ducked out of the room
before Dad could protest.

Dad pushed a hand through his messy hair and glanced over at Christopher with raised
eyebrows. "I told him to stop buying you things."

Christopher smiled at him, hugging a stuffed dinosaur on his lap. "I told him to keep buying
me things."

"Yeah, you're spoiled," Dad joked, and then turned to admire the desk and shelves. "Do you
like it?"

"It's the most awesome thing ever."

"Good. We'll set up my laptop in here when you have school, but you'll have your own space
– even if you have to leave the door open," Dad said, perching on the end of the bed. "And
we can slowly fill up your shelves with more books. How's that one on Ancient Greece
going?"

"It's awesome," he declared. "They're always killing each other."

Dad laughed. "As long as it's not too graphic."

"No, it's okay. Buck's going to get me a book about Atlantis to read next. Do you think it was
real? I think it was real."

"I really don't know anything about it – but you can tell me, all right?" he said, as Buck
returned to the room with a big white box. "Oh god, Buck - what'd you buy?"

"Well, I was on Instagram," Buck began, as Dad groaned. "And I saw this lamp and I just
thought it would be perfect for Christopher's room, because he's the coolest kid I know – and
this is the best lamp I've ever seen."

Excited, Christopher watched as he unboxed it, revealing a wooden stand and an orb that had
a weird design on it. Buck set the lamp up on the bedside table and plugged it in. He then
fiddled with a remote control – the lamp came on, lit up in a bright shade of blue, but when
Buck flipped off the overhead light, it became clear just how cool the lamp was.

It was the moon, and it changed colours, and it was the most amazing thing ever.

"Wow," Dad marvelled, and pulled Christopher onto his lap. "Good call there, Buck."

"You like it?" Buck asked hopefully.

"It's amazing," Christopher gushed – because once again, Buck had picked something that
was so perfect, just like he always did.

Looking pleased, Buck sat beside them on the bed. "Good," he said, grinning. "I just thought
it would fit in here with your space theme."

"Maybe I could work at NASA," Christopher suggested.

Dad smiled at him. "There's no reason why you couldn't," he said. "You can do anything you
put your mind to."

"Really?"

"Yeah, kiddo," Dad replied, giving him a hug. "You're so smart. You'll do something amazing
with your life."

He grinned, looking over at Buck again. "Did you see that video Dad sent you? Of the guy
doing tricks on the hoverboard?"

Buck nodded. "Yeah, it was awesome. We should get one."

"No," Dad said instantly. "No way."

"Oh, come on," Buck argued playfully. "Isn't that why you sent me the video, Eddie?"

"No," Dad said emphatically. "Christopher asked me to send it to you. We're not getting one."

"But it would be so cool," Christopher protested. "Dad, please?"

"Absolutely not," Dad replied firmly. "Buck will fall and break his leg again, and then we'll
have to nurse him back to health."

Buck was scrolling on his phone, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. Dad
watched him suspiciously, leaning over to see what was on the screen, before practically
throwing himself at Buck.

"No!" Buck yelped, attempting to scramble away from him. "I was just looking!"

Dad was trying to wrench the phone from his hands. "You're not buying one of those stupid
hoverboards!"

"I just wanted to see how much they are," Buck protested, slipping off the bed and onto the
floor with a thud. "Eddie! Stop the violence!"

Christopher collapsed onto the bed with giggles, as Dad wrestled with Buck on the floor.
"You can't get one of those because you'll end up killing yourself," he argued, as Buck tried
to shimmy away from him.

"I'm very well balanced!" Buck protested. "They light up! I could put Christopher on my
shoulders—"

"No!"

Christopher was laughing so hard he was shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. Dad finally
sat squarely on Buck's stomach and yanked the phone out of his hand, giving him a warning
look. "We're not getting one of those death traps."

"They're not death traps," Buck complained.

"I read an article about how they catch on fire," Dad said bluntly. "No."

Buck grinned at him, and then easily shoved him onto the floor. "Fine," he said, and then
looked over at Christopher. "You're not getting one."

"No," Dad agreed, and then narrowed his eyes. "And neither are you."

"Right. You're not getting one." Buck rose to his feet, dusting off his jeans.

"No… you're not getting one either."

"I didn't agree to that."

~
Christopher sat at the kitchen table and watched as Dad and Buck prepared dinner together,
the way they always did when Buck was over. His job was to prepare the salad – Buck was
chopping up some onions and cucumbers, and Christopher was tearing lettuce and adding it
to the bowl.

"So you're going on a date with Taylor?" Dad asked Buck, and he glanced up at them
curiously.

"It's not a date. We're just getting a drink as friends," Buck replied, as he sliced a red onion.
Christopher watched his hands move like magic, the knife slicing through the onion
effortlessly. "I know you don't like her…"

"I never said that," Dad replied, leaning over the stove to check the pot of chilli. "I just… I
was surprised that you agreed to it."

"Well, I figured it's the best offer I've had in a while."

Christopher listened to them curiously – Buck was dating as well? That wasn't what he
wanted. That wasn't a good sign. He was supposed to be trying to bring them together, and
they seemed determined to do the opposite of what he wanted them to do.

"What night are you going out?" Dad asked.

"Friday. I'm available to babysit the rest of this week if you need, just not Friday."

"Well, actually… I was kinda hoping you'd come over on Wednesday? Ana said she wouldn't
mind getting to know you. I thought we could just order some pizza and watch a movie. I was
thinking we could show Christopher…" Dad lowered his voice, and even though Christopher
was straining to hear him, he couldn't quite catch the name of the movie.

Sneaky, he thought, as Buck handed him a bowl with the onions.

"Sure, sounds good," Buck replied, though Christopher thought he sounded a little forced.

Dad glanced at him, his eyebrows lifting, but relaxed when Buck smiled at him.

Christopher added the onions to the lettuce and then emptied a container of cherry tomatoes
into the bowl as well. Why couldn't Dad see what was so obvious to him? They were all so
happy when Buck was with them. They were like a little family – why didn't Dad want that
all the time?

And for that matter, why didn't Buck?

Eddie
With Christopher asleep in bed, he grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and joined
Buck on the couch. Buck took a bottle from him, uncapped it and took a swig, his legs
stretched out in front of him.

"Taylor Kelly," Eddie said, giving him a sidelong look. "Are you sure?"

Buck chuckled. "It's not a marriage proposal."

"Yeah, but… I don't know. You've been so hesitant about dating again, and after the last time
you were with her I thought… maybe it was pretty clear that you wanted different things."

Buck was silent for a moment, his eyes trained on a picture of Eddie and Christopher on the
mantle. "Well, it was pointed out to me that just sitting around and waiting for something to
happen wasn't working," he replied. "So when she asked me out, I said yes. Besides, it's been
a few years… things might've changed."

Eddie frowned. "Who said that to you?"

"Maddie. Chimney. Hen. Bobby, in a roundabout way."

"You never asked me."

Buck laughed, finally glancing over at him. "Because I know you don't like her," he said.
"And so does she."

"With good reason. I don't trust her."

"I'm a grown man; I'll be okay."

Eddie wasn't sure about that. Buck was way too nice for the likes of Taylor Kelly – and yeah,
Eddie didn't like her, and didn't want her to hurt his best friend. He picked at the label on his
bottle, and then asked curiously, "What did Bobby say to you?"

Buck glanced at him with surprise. "Just that he thought I should put myself out there instead
of just waiting for the perfect person to come to me. That I've grown up a lot in the last few
years, and with therapy I should be able to stop myself from falling into those same old
traps."

"He talked to me too," Eddie murmured. "He told me not to pass up opportunities that are
right in front of me."

Buck was silent for a moment, and then said, "Is that why you asked Ana out?"

"Yeah. She could be good for us."

"Maybe," Buck murmured. "He really said not to pass up opportunities that are right in front
of you?"

Eddie nodded. "Yep."

"Talking about her, specifically?"

He paused. "Yeah? We were talking about moving on from Shannon."

"She could just be a rebound," Buck suggested. "Right? I mean, I know you introduced her to
Christopher really early on—"

"You think I did?" he cut in, surprised. He hadn't thought it was too strange at the time –
Christopher already knew her, after all. He might've felt differently if it was someone he was
introducing to him for the first time, but Ana had been Christopher's teacher, and he'd liked
her a lot.

Buck let out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, kinda," he admitted. "I mean, I
know he was upset and everything, but I thought you would've taken it slower."

Buck really thought that? Maybe it had been a little soon – Hen had even seemed surprised
when he mentioned that Ana had come over to the house – but he hated lying to Christopher,
and he'd thought that Christopher would be happy to find out that he was seeing someone
he'd really liked.

Eddie swigged his beer, leaning back against the couch. "You think it's soon because
Christopher might get attached, and then… what happens if we break up?" he guessed, and
Buck nodded. "But if you think she's a rebound, aren't you saying that you're expecting us to
break up?"

"I don't know, man. I have no idea. I just… maybe…" Buck made a face, shaking his head,
and then sighed. "Maybe she is who Bobby was talking about but… he could've been talking
about something else."

"Like who?" he pressed, wishing Buck would just say exactly what he meant.

"I don't know dude, I wasn't there for the conversation." Buck's face was red. "Anyway, look,
you like her, so does it matter what I think?"

Eddie grimaced. "It always matters what you think," he replied, and Buck glanced at him
with surprise. "You know that I care about your opinion."

"Yeah," Buck murmured. "And you think that me seeing Taylor is a mistake."

"I mean, if you just want to get laid…"

"No, I want more than that. I want a relationship. I want to fall in love." He let out a sigh,
tearing at the sticker on his beer bottle. "I don't want to be single anymore. I just want a
family, you know? Everyone else is coupled up, and I just feel like… my whole life, I've been
on my own. I don't want to be alone anymore, Eddie."

It was right on the tip of his tongue to say that Buck wasn't alone when he was with them, but
he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. Instead, he reached out and grasped
Buck's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Buck met his eyes and gave him a small, sad smile in
response.
They were silent for a few moments. Eddie patted his shoulder and then released him,
stretching his legs out in front of him. He was about to mention Ana questioning what books
Christopher was reading when Buck said, "If Ana's not the one, Eddie, if it doesn't work
out… what then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. At this stage I'm not sure if she and I have anything more than
flirtation, I guess. I haven't really told her too much about my life."

"Yet?"

"I don't know." The truth was that he would prefer not to sit down with Ana and re-hash all of
the bitter memories of his first marriage, and how he'd failed Shannon; how Shannon had
failed Christopher… he didn't want to dwell on the past anymore. He just wanted to move
forward.

Buck was nodding slowly. "If it doesn't work out," he said, his eyes flicking to Eddie, "you
might've missed another opportunity right in front of you."

Eddie frowned, turning to him fully. "I did?"

Buck nodded, raising his eyebrows briefly, before rising to his feet. "Yeah," he said, clearing
his throat. "You did. Okay, I'm gonna head home."

Blinking rapidly, totally confused, Eddie stared at a spot on the carpet, puzzling over the
meaning of his words for a few seconds until the lightbulb finally went off over his head.

Oh. It's him.

He turned to look at Buck, who was checking his phone near the door. "Buck?"

"Yeah?" Buck glanced over at him.

"You… um…" You like me? You're an opportunity? You want to be with me?

Buck took a step towards him, looking concerned. "You okay?"

Fuck. He nodded vigorously, downed the last of his beer, and stood. "You'll be over on
Wednesday? For the movie?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Buck replied easily.

He nodded again, and then said, "And you'll tell me about Taylor? What happens?"

Buck shrugged. "Sure."

"Okay." Eddie scuffed the carpet with his toe. "I'll see you at work on Monday."

"You will," Buck replied, and smiled at him. "Night, Eds."

"Night, Buck," he said quietly, watching as Buck pulled his keys from his pocket and then
headed out into the night.

Buck was a possibility. Buck was right in front of him - he had been for years, right there,
and Eddie had never considered it.

Not until now, at least.

He wandered around the house, locking up, turning off the lights – thinking about Ana. He
hadn't been planning on asking her out after he ran into her in the street – it was his talk with
Bobby that finally pushed him over the edge, and they were having breakfast together before
he'd even really stopped to consider what it meant.

Eddie went into the bathroom, leaning on the sink, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. It
was weird – sometimes, when he was with her, he didn't recognise himself. At one point
during dinner, he'd realised that he was even laughing differently, and Christopher kept
looking at him across the table like he couldn't understand what was going on.

He splashed some water on his face, letting out a sigh. Maybe Buck was an opportunity, but
what did that even mean? It wasn't like Buck had ever come out and directly said something
to him, and besides, he was dating Taylor again.

And the reality was that Eddie had never seriously considered dating a man before, let alone
his best friend, and Ana was the kind of woman he'd always thought he'd end up with one
day, except… the reality wasn't quite the same as the fantasy.

But it was early days, right? Love at first sight wasn't real.

He most definitely hadn't felt butterflies in his stomach the first time he'd ever laid eyes on
Buck, and he definitely hadn't spent the last few years inviting him into their family and
practically building a home together – and Buck definitely wasn't his first thought in the
morning and often his last thought at night… and Buck wasn't the first person, aside from
Christopher, that he spoke to or texted every day.

And his camera roll wasn't filled with pictures of Buck and Christopher together… or just
Buck alone, smiling at him through the camera, his blue eyes sparkling.

And Eddie definitely wasn't going to go to bed and scroll through the videos on his phone
and fall asleep dreaming about Buck.

That was not going to happen.

 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Slight trigger warning - Ana is subtly ableist in this fic and she upsets Christopher.

Other than that, enjoy!

Christopher had the brilliant idea to ask Carla for some advice, and so when they had their
usual Skype catch-up on Monday, and while Dad was out of the room, he leapt at the
opportunity.

"Carla, do you think that Ms Flores is nice?"

Carla raised her eyebrows at him through the computer screen. "Of course I do. Why?"

"But do you think she's good for Dad? Like as a girlfriend?"

She looked suspicious, but said, "I think that she could be. It's still very early days and they're
just getting to know each other. Why are you asking me this?"

He shifted forward in his seat, glancing over at the door to make sure Dad wasn't listening. "I
think he's making a mistake."

"Why do you think that?" she asked curiously.

"Because of Buck. Because Dad should be with Buck," he replied. "Don't you think?"

"Oh Christopher, I don't… I'm not sure that could happen," she said gently. "Is that what you
want?"

He nodded. "Why can't it happen?"

"Well – I'm not sure that your Dad and Buck feel that way about each other. I know you love
spending time with Buck and that he and your Dad are best friends, but falling in love is a
very different thing."

"How?"

She smiled. "Well, it's a feeling, deep down inside… you want to be around them all the time;
you want to let them into your life – you open your heart and your world to them. It's about
trusting someone with your heart."

He nodded again, slowly, thinking it over. Weren't Dad and Buck already doing all of that?
"But Christopher – the other issue is that your Dad and Buck are both men," she said gently.
"And they may not be attracted to each other in that way."

"But they might be," he said hopefully. "Maybe?"

"I just don't know; I can't tell you one way or the other—"

"Is Carla still online?" Dad asked, bustling into the room. "Can I steal her for a second? I've
got some paperwork I need help with."

Christopher groaned. "Okay, fine."

Dad chuckled good-naturedly. "Did I interrupt a secret conversation?"

"No."

"I'll help you, Eddie – and Christopher," Carla said, "we can talk about it later."

He waved goodbye, heaving a sigh as Dad carried the laptop out of the room. Christopher
spun around on his desk chair, looking at the moon lamp next to his bed, the posters on his
wall that Buck had helped put up, the books he'd bought, the desk and shelves and everything
that was in his room that Buck had helped them with and thought, why doesn't he want to be
with us?

Dad was nervous on Wednesday; bustling around the house, making sure everything was
clean and tidy again. Christopher was trying to work on his history project – he had to write a
report about a significant event in American history from the last sixty years, and he'd settled
on the moon landing because it was the coolest.

Ms Flores arrived earlier than she was supposed to, which flustered Dad even more.
Christopher said hello to her and then gathered up his stuff, carting everything back down to
his room to work where she wasn't around. He remembered that she liked to look over his
shoulder and read everything that he was working on, and he figured if he was in his room at
his desk, there was less of a chance of that happening.

He was wrong, because not ten minutes later she stepped in through the open door, uninvited
and without knocking, admiring his desk and shelves. "Very nice, Christopher," she
commented. "Your Dad told me that I could come and have a look."

"Dad and Buck built it," he replied proudly, as she examined the books on his shelf. "Buck
put them all in alphabetical order for me."

"There's some advanced reading material in here," she said admiringly. "You've read Treasure
Island?"

"Dad read it to me; it's one of his favourite books. I have other books about pirates too.
They're really cool." Christopher wanted her to leave, but he wasn't sure how to ask – a
teacher was in his room and it was uncomfortable.
"Do you like the classics?" she asked him. "There's Mark Twain in here – Huckleberry Finn."

"I liked it. Dad likes them; Buck thinks they're boring."

"Ah, so the books with pirates riding sharks are from Buck?" she asked knowingly.

He looked up at her, frowning. "Yes? They're so funny."

"I bet." Ms Flores picked up one of his photos next – the one of him and his Mom at the
beach.

Suddenly very uncomfortable, Christopher picked up a crayon from the container on the desk
and began to scrawl dark red lines on a piece of paper – please go away, please leave me
alone.

"Your mother was very beautiful," Ms Flores said gently. "You must miss her a lot."

Sorrow filled his heart. He did; he missed her every single day, and he didn't want to talk
about that with Ms Flores. "Uh huh."

"It's okay to use your words," Ms Flores prompted him.

He clenched the crayon in his fist – she used to do that at school – and said through gritted
teeth, "Yes, I do."

"Fun's here!" Buck's voice echoed through the house, and Ms Flores lifted her head with
surprise.

Christopher went to move from his chair; anxious to see Buck, but then she leaned over and
examined his report, still holding the picture. "I can help you with this," she offered. "I can
already see where you've made some mistakes—"

"Buck!" he shouted, and she jerked with fright, backing away from the desk. "Buck!"

Buck leapt into the doorway, a huge grin on his face, which faded when he realised that
Christopher wasn't alone. "Oh, hey," he said, taking a step into the room. "Good to see you
again, Ana."

"You too," she replied, setting the picture down on the shelf. "I was just having a look at
Christopher's homework."

"Your history report?" Buck asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he likes to finish it first before
anyone reads it."

"Oh!" she said with surprise, backing away from the desk. "Sorry. I didn't know."

"That's okay. Eddie wanted your opinion on the pizza," Buck said, gesturing to the door. "I'll
sort Chris out and we'll join you guys in a couple of minutes."

"Okay, great." Ms Flores smiled at him, and finally left the room.
Christopher let out a breath – he felt very… squiggly? He couldn't think of the right word;
like he was all jumpy and hot and very uncomfortable. Like screaming for Buck had been the
only option to get her out of his space.

"Christopher," Buck said softly, dropping to his knees. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, still feeling too worked up to put it into words. Buck gazed at him with
concern, and then turned to look at the desk – the books were moved, the picture was on the
wrong shelf, and she'd read his report and said there were mistakes so he may as well just
throw it away.

"Let me fix this up," Buck said to him gently, rising to his feet again. He carefully put the
books back in place and put the picture in its correct position, and then spotted the piece of
paper with scrawled red crayon on it. He picked it up, frowning, and then said, "You know,
you're not obligated to let anyone into your room if you don't want to."

He grimaced, lowering his head.

"You're a very nice kid but you're allowed to have boundaries and you can ask someone to
leave if they're bothering you," Buck said gently. "I know this isn't easy, because she was
your teacher – next time, you can just ask her to leave. It's okay."

"Dad likes her."

"He's still getting to know her; just like you." Buck held up the drawing and said, "I used to
do this when I was a kid, you know. My parents used to make me feel very anxious."

Anxious. That was the word his therapist used after the tsunami. Christopher nodded at him.
"I just… I don't want her in my room."

"That's fine." Buck smiled reassuringly at him and set the paper down. "Do you want me to
hang out in here with you while you work on your paper? Or do you want me to leave you
alone?"

"Stay," he decided instantly. "Can you read it? She said there were mistakes."

"I can read it when you're done—"

"No, now or else I'll redo all of it."

Buck raised his eyebrows, taking a seat on the end of the bed. "All right. Let me have a look."

Christopher twirled in his chair, waiting while Buck read his report. Dad appeared in the
doorway to the bedroom, raising his eyebrows at them curiously. "Why are you two hiding in
here?"

"I'm just reading the moon landing report," Buck replied, glancing over at him. "We'll be out
in a minute."
"Okay. Pizza is on the way." Dad tapped his fingers on the doorframe, doing that thing with
Buck where they had a silent conversation. Whatever they decided, Dad nodded, and then
disappeared again.

Christopher sighed, and Buck glanced at him briefly before holding up his report. "This is
good," he said. "It's a really good start."

"What mistakes are there?" he asked quietly.

"Just a couple of spelling errors, kiddo. Nothing major. We'll double check the facts, but this
all reads well to me."

Christopher nodded, relaxing. "Okay. She was a hard grader, Buck. I don't want her looking
at my stuff."

"You don't have to," Buck said to him, setting the report down on the table. "You are allowed
to say no to people. You don't have to let people into your space if you don't want them there.
Okay?"

"Dad won't get mad?"

Buck shook his head. "No way."

"Because my grandparents said that I'm supposed to respect my elders."

"And you do – but you're also allowed to say no," Buck said gently. "This is your room. Your
space. You remember when I first started coming over and I asked you if I could come in?"

He nodded again. "And you tripped over the rug and fell down and farted. And Dad laughed
so hard that he fell over too."

Buck went red. "We don't talk about that part."

"But it was so funny."

"I know, but still. And your Dad doesn't like it when you say 'farted'."

Christopher giggled, covering his mouth with his hands. "I only say it in front of you."

"We'll keep that between us," Buck replied conspiratorially, and winked at him.

Ms Flores talked a lot. She talked about school, about travelling, about her family and her
friends – she talked about her dog and about other random stuff. She talked so much that
Christopher zoned out, plotting how best to make his Dad and Buck fall in love.

He knew he had an ace up his sleeve – he could just tell Dad that he didn't like her, and Dad
would make her go away. He was sure of it.
But he couldn't do that because it was wrong. He'd liked her when she was his teacher, and he
was still trying to figure out who she was in his life now. She liked Dad a lot – she kept
touching his arm or his hand, she called him 'Edmundo' which was so weird, and he had to
fight the giggles every time she did it. She was nice to Buck, who was sweet to everyone –
everybody loved Buck.

She was just kinda… there, in their space. And he could see that she didn't fit. He watched
the way Buck and Dad kept glancing at each other; he watched as Buck shifted around
uncomfortably in his chair and politely laughed at her stories. He watched the way Buck's
nose wrinkled when she called Dad by his full name – and he watched Dad turn red whenever
she said it.

Christopher thought back to 'The Parent Trap' – if he really wanted to make something
happen between them, he would have to bring them together. He would have to lie again –
just a little – in order to make them see what was right in front of them.

Operation Get-Dad-and-Buck-to-fall-in-love – no, the title was too long. Operation Dad-and-
Buck-Forever – no, that was dumb. Operation Dad-Buck was underway.

Buck

The whole situation was kind of strange. Here he was, at Eddie's house, having dinner with
Eddie and Christopher – that was normal – but there was an extra person there who just
didn't… fit.

And Ana was nice – she laughed at his jokes; she clearly liked Eddie a lot; she told stories
and didn't seem uncomfortable at all. She was perfectly pleasant.

But she wasn't right for Eddie, or Christopher – in fact, if it wasn't for Buck and Eddie
making a concerted effort to draw Christopher into the conversation, she hardly ever included
him. He didn't think she was doing it on purpose, and wondered how much interaction she'd
had with children outside of teaching. Did she have nieces or nephews? Friends with kids?
She seemed a little awkward around Christopher at times and he wasn't sure why. Maybe she
wasn't sure how to approach him as someone other than his teacher? He couldn't figure it out.

Christopher, for his part, was almost completely disinterested in their conversation. He was
puzzling over something, Buck could tell, and every so often he'd lift his head and look over
at his father with narrowed eyes, as if trying to read his mind.

Buck was trying to do the same damn thing. For the first time in a long time, he couldn't
understand what the hell Eddie was thinking.

Once they'd finished eating, he stood automatically and began to clear the table. Christopher
stood as well, hanging onto the table for support, and then started down the hallway,
presumably to the bathroom.

"He's such a great kid," Ana said, smiling at Eddie. "And he clearly loves Buck so much."

Buck met Eddie's eyes as he reached across to grab his plate. Eddie said, "Yeah, he does,"
and gave her a warm smile – that was enough for Eddie, for someone to say how great
Christopher was. It lowered his defences and helped him to open up. He could talk about
Christopher non-stop, but discovering who Eddie really was underneath took some time.

He carried the plates into the kitchen. From what he could tell – granted, from one dinner
together – Eddie was playing a part. The perfect, chivalrous boyfriend – obviously, that came
to him easily, because Eddie was nothing if not charming. But it was all surface level. Buck
was sure that their conversations weren't very deep; that Ana had no idea who Eddie really
was.

And maybe that was fair. They hadn't been together that long, and he could understand Eddie
not wanting to peel back all the layers too soon, but he just wasn't sure that Eddie was willing
or able to open himself up to someone new.

And the 'Edmundo' thing… what the fuck was that about? Why was Eddie on board with it?
At work they called him his full name as a joke - usually when he was being a pissy little brat
- and Eddie hated it. Unless… it was different with Ana? He felt comfortable with her using
his full name, maybe – it was intimate, and maybe she was exposed to a side of him that
Buck had never seen—

No, he refused to believe that. There was no way. He knew Eddie Diaz better than anyone on
the planet and the only time anyone used his full name – aside from his family – was when
they were playfully teasing him or intentionally trying to annoy him. The only thing that
made sense about the whole 'Edmundo' situation was that Eddie had his walls up and wasn't
being real with her about who he was or what he wanted, and to Buck, that all spelled doom.

Buck suspected Ana had never seen the real Eddie – or maybe she had, once, when he'd
yelled at her at the school. This Eddie was polite, restrained and totally stiff and on edge. The
real Eddie was quick-witted and snarky; a grump when he hadn't had his first coffee of the
day, and would melt into a puddle when he was asked about Christopher. The real Eddie was
funny and sarcastic; brave and heroic, and hilariously terrified about technology. The real
Eddie listened to the people he loved and remembered the smallest details; filed them away in
his brain for later because he was thoughtful like that. The real Eddie was sweet and kind;
soft and gentle.

God, Buck loved him. The good and the bad; every single part of him – Eddie would never
have to be anything other than himself if they were together. Buck wanted him exactly the
way he was, and not this robotic, measured version.

Buck was rinsing the dishes when he heard Eddie laugh – not his real laugh, but a fake,
forced version – and shook his head disapprovingly.

He may not have had many long-term relationships in his life, but he couldn't recall ever
being anything other than himself when he was dating someone new. With Abby, they spent
hours talking about their lives, their hopes and dreams and all on the phone before ever
spending time together in person. He felt like he knew her before they ever began a
relationship.

What did Eddie know about Ana? Buck guessed that it was almost nothing.

Usually when Christopher watched movies with Dad and Buck, he would sit between them.
Dad would always put his arm around the back of the couch, so it was almost like it was
around them both, and Christopher was in charge of the bowl of popcorn. Buck would
usually end up slouched down with his legs sticking out, and if Christopher got sleepy, he'd
curl up beside him with his head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Things were a little different with four of them. Dad had put the armchair in front of the TV,
and that was the seat Buck took. Instead of taking the middle seat, Christopher chose the one
closest to Buck, and then, looking awkward, Dad sat in the middle. Ms Flores took the end
seat and that was fine with Christopher. The further away, the better.

It meant Dad was in charge of the popcorn, but it was more important to him to be close to
Buck so he could talk to him about the movie.

"What are we watching?" he asked Dad.

"Well, you're going to love it," he replied confidently. "It's called The Mummy. Get ready to
be obsessed with Ancient Egypt, buddy."

Ooh, that was exciting. He really liked reading about the ancient civilisations, and he hadn't
started on Egypt yet. He wriggled with excitement, glancing at Buck, who flashed him a
smile.

"I've seen this before," Ms Flores said to Dad. "Are you sure it's suitable for him?"

Dad nodded, opening Netflix on the television. "Yep."

"Some of the jokes might go over his head, and there's some horror—"

"He can handle it. He's watched all of the Jurassic Park movies."

He hated being spoken about like he wasn't in the room, so he said, "I'm nearly ten," and then
looked to Buck for confirmation and back-up.

Buck said, "It's fine, Ana. I was around his age when I saw it. Maddie and I went to the
movies together." He paused, a fond smile on his face, and then glanced at Eddie. "We didn't
go to the movies very often; that's why I remember it."
Dad was smiling warmly at him, his eyes soft and sparkling. Ms Flores glanced back and
forth between them, confused, but then the moment passed. Dad turned back to the TV and
Buck sank down into the armchair, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle.
Christopher suddenly decided that he was not going to miss out on cuddling with Buck, and
slid off the couch.

"Christopher, are you okay? Do you need help?" Ms Flores asked worriedly.

"He's fine," Dad and Buck said together.

Buck had clearly figured out what Christopher wanted, so he shifted over in his seat, and
Christopher clambered up beside him, leaning against his chest.

"Can you see the TV?" Buck asked him, and he nodded, looking over at his Dad. Dad looked
concerned, but he stood and went into the kitchen and divided up the popcorn into two bowls,
passing one to Buck.

"Okay," he said. "You're going to love this, Chris."

Dad was right - he did love it.

It was so good, and funny, and action-packed – the scene where the mummy came back to
life and chased them through the tombs was incredible, and then when he stole the cowboy's
tongue and eyes was so gross; he was squealing and peeking through his fingers while Buck
laughed at him.

It was the best movie ever – well, nearly as good as Jurassic Park. He was so enthralled that
he barely heard Ms Flores spoil one part of it, and hadn't realised what happened until Dad
said to her gently, "Christopher hasn't seen it yet – just let him watch it."

He had no idea what she'd said because he couldn't take his eyes off the screen, and when it
was over he groaned, throwing his head back against the cushions. "Can we watch it again?"

"There's a sequel," Dad replied. "We'll save that for next week when Buck comes over,
okay?"

He looked up at Buck desperately. "Tomorrow?"

Buck laughed. "Your dad and I are working tomorrow night."

No. "Friday?" he pleaded.

"I can't, I have… a thing on Friday," Buck replied ruefully. "Saturday? Can you wait until
Saturday?"

"Buddy, you don't have to watch the sequel with Buck – if you want to watch it tomorrow,
you can," Dad offered.
"No, I always watch movies with Buck. Saturday," he said decisively. "I can wait."

Buck ruffled his hair. "We knew you'd love it," he said, sharing a pleased smile with Dad.

"I did," he replied. "Do you think that I could do that? That I could be an archaeologist?"

Buck nodded. "I think you can do whatever you put your mind to. If that's what you want,
then you go after it. Right, Eddie?"

Christopher turned to his Dad for confirmation and found him smiling encouragingly. "I think
you're smart enough to do anything you want you to do," Dad said firmly. "You know I'll
support you, no matter what."

He noticed Ms Flores looking worried but ignored it. "Okay, I want to do that."

"So you'll just be a pirate in your spare time then," Buck teased.

"Just on the weekends," Dad added. "It's more of a hobby than a career."

He laughed. "I can do both."

"Yeah, you can." Dad grinned at him, and then stood. "But now it's bedtime."

He groaned, sliding off the chair. "Can Buck put me to bed tonight?"

"Sure. Go brush your teeth and get into bed," Dad instructed. "And say goodnight to Ana for
me, kiddo."

"Good night, Ms Flores," he said automatically, starting for the hallway.

"I'll see you next time," she said with a smile, and he nodded at her.

But honestly? He wouldn't really care if she never came back.

Christopher was settled into bed when Buck stepped into the doorway, leaning against the
doorframe. "I'll see you on Saturday," he promised. "I'll be here; wouldn't miss it for the
world."

"Okay," Christopher agreed. "Buck, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Buck crossed the room and dropped to his knees beside the bed, resting his hands on
his folded arms. "What's up?"

He gazed at him, the pink glow from the moon lamp lighting up his face, and said, "Do you
really think that I could be an archaeologist? Or work at NASA? Do you think they have jobs
for me?"

Buck nodded. "Yes," he said simply. "Lots of different people work for NASA or study
archaeology. Your dad and I know how smart you are. When we say that you can do anything
you set your mind to, we mean it."

Reassured, he smiled at him. "Okay."

"Though I think being a pirate would be difficult and there a lot of logistics to consider,"
Buck mused. "Like, where are you going to get the pirate ship from? Are you going to be the
captain? Do you need a first mate? Can I be your first mate?"

He was laughing, clutching a pillow to his chest. "You can be my first mate."

"And what's your dad gonna do? We can't leave him behind."

"What's this I hear about a first mate?" Dad asked from the doorway.

Christopher let out a peal of laughter. "Buck claimed it."

"Well, he's going to have to un-claim it, because that job is mine," Dad said firmly.

"Snooze you lose, pal," Buck replied, rising to his feet. "First in, best dressed. All right,
Captain. I'll see you on Saturday for The Mummy Returns." He held out his fist, and
Christopher bumped it with his own.

"See you at work tomorrow," Dad said to Buck, and Buck squeezed his shoulder as he left the
room. "Okay, kiddo. Ready for a story?"

As the words left his mouth, Ms Flores appeared in the doorway beside him, taking his hand.
Dad glanced at her – he seemed uncomfortable? – and then turned back to Christopher,
raising his eyebrows.

Christopher did not want Ms Flores to have any role in his bedtime routine – he'd thought she
was going home - so he said, "No, I'm okay."

Dad frowned. "Are you sure?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm tired," he offered, as an explanation.

Dad was silent for a moment, studying him, and finally said, "Okay. Let me tuck you in." He
released Ms Flores' hand and stepped into the room, but she followed him persistently.

"It was so lovely to watch the movie with you tonight, Christopher," she said – her frizzy hair
was tied back in a ponytail, but one strand had escaped and was sticking straight up on the
top of her head. He couldn't stop staring at it. "Maybe I could come over on Saturday to
watch the sequel with you all?"

"No," Christopher said instantly – it slipped out, he couldn’t help it, and Dad reacted with
surprise.

"Christopher," he said, concerned but not angry. "That's a little rude."

He pressed his lips together, and then simply pulled the blanket up and over his head.
"Um, can you give us a minute?" he heard Dad say to Ms Flores.

"I'll make us some tea," she said. "Goodnight, Christopher."

He didn't respond. Dad pulled the blanket down, sitting on the side of the bed, gazing at him
with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Christopher shook his head.

"I thought you liked her."

He shrugged.

Dad considered him, and then said, "She likes you a lot. She wants to get to know you
better."

"I don't want that," he said quietly. "I don't want her in my room. It's weird and I don't like it."

Dad chewed his lower lip. "Okay," he said slowly. "It's your room, and that's fine. Maybe we
just need to take things a little more slowly, huh?"

He couldn't say that he didn't like her – she was fine. It just creeped him out that she was
already so comfortable in their house and that Dad didn't seem to find it weird? It had just
been the two of them – and Buck – for so long, and now there was this stranger (not really a
stranger, but still) and she was touching his books and asking him questions… he hated it.

Dad brushed a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know this is a huge
change."

Christopher considered him, and then decided to put his plan into action again. "Buck's sad,"
he said quietly – and he hated lying to his Dad so much, but he had no choice. If Dad
wouldn't open his eyes, Christopher would just have to make him.

Dad's eyebrows flew up, instantly concerned. "He is? Why do you think that? Did he say
something to you?"

"It's like someone is taking his place," he whispered. "Because it's just been us three."

"He said that?" Dad clarified.

He hesitated, and then nodded – he was lying already, why not dig himself in a little deeper?
"He said he cares about us so much," he added. "That we're his family."

Dad frowned, and then rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Thank you for telling me," he said softly.
"Buck will be okay."

He shrugged at him again, reaching out to touch his cheek. "You can be my first mate."

Dad broke into a smile, ducking his head. "Buck can sweep the poop deck."
"Yeah," he agreed, and then thought about it. "What's a poop deck?"

By Saturday's viewing of The Mummy Returns, Christopher was well and truly hooked on
Ancient Egypt. After the movie, he sat down with Buck and Dad and scrolled through the
books on Amazon, looking for some interesting ones to add to his collection.

"There's an Egyptian exhibit at the museum," Dad said, Christopher sitting across his lap, his
arm hooked around his waist. "And you can book a time and take a tour but… I don't know. I
don't think we should risk it during the pandemic."

"How many people are allowed on the tours?" Buck asked, still scrolling through the books
on Amazon.

"Fifteen," Dad replied, clucking his tongue. "It's too risky."

"But I want to see the mummies," he complained, slumping against Dad. "Why can't I go?"

Dad gave him a squeeze. "I'm sorry, kiddo. We can't let you get sick. They have a virtual
online tour – we could put it on the TV and do it that way?"

He groaned. "It's not fair."

"This won't last forever," Buck spoke up. "We'll all be vaccinated, and we can go to all the
museums."

Christopher sighed. He didn't really understand why he couldn't go anywhere? He felt like
he'd been stuck inside the house for a year. He couldn't see Carla or his Abuela, he couldn't
see his friends, and he missed going to school.

He clutched at the neck of Dad's shirt, burrowing his head against his neck. Dad swept a
soothing hand down his back and held him close. "It's okay," he murmured. "Maybe we can
go somewhere without people."

"We could go camping," Buck suggested. "I could book a campsite somewhere?"

"There would still be people around." Dad rested his head on top of Christopher's. "Maybe
you can find something with the campsites spread a bit further apart? Just for the three of us."

"Sure." Buck opened another tab on the computer. "North or south?"

"North. Will you have time? Do you want to do this?" Dad asked Buck, a little hesitantly. "If
you've got stuff on, I mean - if you're seeing Taylor…"

"No, we're not seeing each other," Buck replied, focused on the computer screen. "We're not
on the same page."

"Oh."
Christopher looked up at Dad and found him chewing away at his bottom lip again, like he
did when he was unsure of himself. Buck glanced over at them, and then explained, "She still
just wants a casual thing and I'm not really into that."

Dad nodded. "Right. You want something… meaningful."

"Yeah," Buck said, smiling at him, his eyes sparkling. "I want to build something real, you
know? I want to fall in love and get married, all that stuff."

Christopher wanted to tell them that should just marry each other, but Dad had his arms
locked around him, and it was like there was some kind of meaning behind their words that
he couldn't quite understand.

"Have kids," Dad said, his voice low.

Buck shrugged. "If the kid comes along with the person, then that's fine with me." He gave
Dad a lingering look, and then turned to the computer screen. "I can book us a campsite about
an hour north – this park only has ten camping spots, and they're all separated from each
other. There is a shared amenities block though, so… that's the risky part. But if we managed
to work it with Bobby that we left on Thursday and came back Saturday, we might have the
whole place to ourselves."

"Just us," Dad clarified. "Us three."

Buck nodded at him. "I don't get a real camping vibe from Ana."

"No." Dad's voice sounded hollow.

They both fell silent. Christopher curled up in Dad's lap, letting his hand drift down so it was
resting on Dad's arm. He laid his head against Dad's shoulder and closed his eyes, all cosy
and warm. Dad was rubbing his back like he used to do when he was little, and he was
struggling to stay awake.

Right as he was drifting off, he heard Buck ask, "When are you seeing her again?"

That was enough to wake him up again, but he kept his eyes closed and stayed still, waiting
for Dad to respond.

"Um… she's coming over for dinner again on Tuesday night. She wants to cook for us again."

Buck laughed. "Okay. You didn't like what she made last time though."

"I did, actually – the roast beef was delicious - but it wasn't really suitable for Christopher."
Dad was trying to be diplomatic, which was another great word he'd picked up from one of
his newer books.

"Why didn't you offer to make something for her? Your skills have improved," Buck pointed
out. "I could give you the spaghetti recipe."
"I did offer," Dad replied. "I told her about Abuela's pozole recipe and that I could make it –
if you gave me some tips – and she was really insistent that she wanted to cook for us again,
so… I said yes. Maybe it'll be better this time."

"You guys are just used to Pepa's cooking, that's all."

"I just don't think she put a lot of thought into what Christopher would like," Dad said
delicately. "It was all a little too grown-up for him. I had to heat us up some of your spaghetti
after she left."

"Did you tell her?" Buck asked. "You could be tactful about it."

"What, I'm supposed to say – hey, thanks so much for slaving away and making this amazing
food, but could you maybe think about the fact that medium-rare to a child essentially means
raw?"

Buck sighed. "I said you could be tactful. You can't even be honest with her?"

Dad shrugged. "I just… I don't know, I feel like it's rude to say something. It's ungrateful."

"You should be able to be honest with the person you're dating – if you two really like each
other, wouldn't she want to know what Christopher likes and dislikes? Is she doing anything
to win him over?"

Dad was silent. "Win him over?" he finally asked uncertainly.

Christopher heard Buck audibly sigh again. "Yeah," he said. "He's not really into this and I
think you know that. And… from where I’m sitting, she's more interested in you."

"Shhh," Dad hissed. "He could hear you."

"He's asleep."

Christopher was wide awake, listening to them attentively. Ms Flores was definitely more
interested in Dad. Buck had noticed it as well!

Dad was silent for a moment. "She knows he's my whole world," he said quietly. "She knows
that. She always says how great he is."

"Yeah, because it turns you into a puddle of mush," Buck replied dryly. "Come on, man."

"What do you want from me?" Dad asked pleadingly. "I'm supposed to do this, aren't I? I'm
supposed to put myself back out there and try, right?"

"There's trying and then there's trying to force a connection that isn't there," Buck murmured.

"We have a lot in common."

"I'm sure you do."

Christopher cracked open an eye. Buck's eyes were locked on Dad, and they were both stiff
and tense – like they were both holding back what they really wanted to say.

Dad finally let out a breath and said, "I have to try, Buck."

"Sure." Buck looked at the computer again.

"I don't have a reason not to."

"No, you're right. You don't. She's an opportunity. I get it." Buck turned the computer towards
him. "Should I book a campsite for us three?"

Dad nodded. "Okay. We'll share a tent."

"Is that a good idea?"

There was another long pause, and then Dad said awkwardly, "We've done it before."

"Right." Buck tapped on the keyboard. "Okay. I'm booking this – it's a few weeks away, so
we have plenty of time."

"Great." Dad pushed Christopher's hair off his forehead and hugged him, gently rocking back
and forth. He desperately wanted to listen to them but sleep was creeping up on him slowly
but surely. "You don't think he's happy," Dad said, after another long pause.

They were talking about him? Christopher struggled to stay awake.

"You know him better than I do. He'd tell you if he wasn't."

"Come on, you know him pretty well. Has he said something to you?"

Buck shrugged. "Yeah, but… he needs to tell you himself; I'm not gonna… put myself in the
middle anymore than I already am. You need to talk to him, Eddie. Just you."

Dad buried his face in Christopher's hair, breathing deeply, and then lifted his head. "It'll be
okay," he replied uncertainly. "They'll get to know each other and it'll be okay."

"Maybe, but I still think you're making a mistake."

Dad sighed. "Bobby said—"

"Who cares what Bobby said? You weren't unhappy before and now you're questioning
yourself," Buck pointed out. "A family doesn't have to be a mom and a dad, you know. For
the last couple of years, I've felt like… us three have been a family."

"Well, neither of us likes men, so that kind of rules it out," Dad joked.

Buck was silent, and finally said, "Right. Okay. I'm gonna go."

"What'd I say?"
"Nothing, dude. You didn't say anything." Buck's voice was flat.

Christopher opened his eyes a crack, watching as Buck began to gather his things.

"Buck," Dad said quietly. "I…"

"Eddie, you do this all the time. I say something nice to you and you make a joke. You know
how hard this year has been on me." Buck's voice was strained. "You know that coming here
and just being with you guys has been the highlight. I kinda feel like I'm being forced out or
being dropped down to babysitter. And for what? This woman you don't even really like?"

"I do like her," Dad protested weakly, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, you like her so much that you spent the whole movie on Wednesday ignoring her
when she tried to hold your hand," Buck pointed out. "And when she asked if she could come
tonight, you were really quick to say no. You either like her or you don't – it's not hard."

"I like her," Dad said firmly.

"Then act like it, I guess."

That would not do. Christopher made himself known, stretching out in Dad's arms. Buck
immediately pressed his lips together, and then tried to smile at him. "What's going on?"
Christopher asked, yawning – that wasn't an act; he was genuinely on the verge of sleep.

"I’m heading off," Buck said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "You look after your Dad for
me."

"You could stay the night," Christopher offered.

"I can't tonight, kiddo, but I'll see you during the week. I've ordered those books, so when
they arrive I'll bring them over."

"I could've ordered them," Dad said quietly.

Buck shrugged at him. "You're too cheap to pay for Prime. See you at work on Monday,
Eds."

Dad nodded wordlessly, turning to watch as Buck left the house. His mouth was drawn into a
frown, and Christopher patted his cheek, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Buck's our person,"
he said, and Dad's eyebrows lifted. "Isn't he?"

Dad swallowed hard, and nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Bedtime."

Ms Flores arrived early on Tuesday, well before Dad had even finished work. She had a bag
of groceries with her, and Tia Pepa had to let her in.
"It's so lovely to meet you," Ms Flores said to Pepa, shaking her hand with a big smile on her
face. "Edmundo has told me so much about you."

Pepa frowned. "You call Eddie, Edmundo? And he lets you get away with it?" she asked
pointedly.

"Yes – my grandfather had the same name—"

"That's a little peculiar, to me. Eddie is just Eddie; no need for formality. You know where the
kitchen is."

Christopher hid a smile behind his hand. Pepa was famously hard to please, but she loved
Buck, and they had always gotten along really well. Buck made Pepa laugh, which was the
most impressive thing anyone could do.

Ms Flores followed Pepa into the living area, stopping when she spotted him on the couch.
"Hi Christopher! How was school today?"

He was trying to watch Spongebob but glanced over at her with a polite smile. "It was fine."

"How did your history report go?"

"Good. I got a B+."

"Oh, very nice! I'd love to read it," she said hopefully. "Would you let me?"

He tried not to visibly sigh. "It's in my room. I'll show you later," he replied, his eyes trained
on the television.

"Did you have homework today?" she asked curiously.

"All of his schoolwork is homework," Pepa said, settling down into the armchair with her
latest knitting project – a green and red Christmas beanie with a pompom on top. "He
watches cartoons until five thirty."

"But I'm sure they assign further reading?" Ms Flores asked curiously. "I just don't want him
falling behind."

Pepa barked out a laugh. "Falling behind? He is in the top of his class. He is excelling; he is
not falling behind at anything. I'm here to monitor his schoolwork. I know what's going on."

"I'm sorry," Ms Flores apologised, "I just want to help."

Pepa levelled her with a pointed look over the top of her glasses and said, "His schoolwork is
under control."

"I understand that, but Edmundo – Eddie – might have told you that I'm a Vice Principal, and
I was one of Christopher's teachers. I would be happy to help him—"
"I know who you are," Pepa replied, not looking up from her knitting. "We've got it under
control, thank you. Let him watch his cartoons in peace."

"Of course," Ms Flores murmured. "I was only trying to help."

Pepa's response was the clacking of her knitting needles. Christopher watched as Ms Flores
went into the kitchen, her cheeks red, and then looked over at Pepa curiously.

Without lifting her eyes, she murmured, "Nothing worse than a busybody, Christopher."

He bit back a smile and turned back to his cartoons.

Dad phoned right before six o'clock – he was stuck at work; there was a big fire at a
warehouse downtown and he was going to be late home. Pepa took the call, frowning deeply
– she had to leave by six at the latest – and when she hung up, she went into the kitchen.
"Ana, Eddie's been delayed. He's asked if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Christopher
for him until he gets home – he thinks he'll be here just after seven. Is that okay?"

"Of course!" Ms Flores exclaimed. "I'd be happy to watch Christopher. Is there anything I
should know?"

"He'll be hungry around six thirty – you can give him a snack before Eddie gets home. If for
some reason Eddie is delayed, he should be fed, showered and ready for bed by eight thirty.
He has a couple of shows that he's allowed to watch on Netflix after dinner, but often he will
just hang out in his bedroom and play his Switch or read a book. He has permission to do
that; he doesn't need to do any extra schoolwork at night. He works hard enough during the
day. He has no allergies, so you don't have to worry about that. If you have any problems
there are a list of emergency numbers on the fridge there – if you can't reach Eddie or me,
call Buck next, and if you can't reach Buck, call Carla Price. You should be fine; Eddie was
confident that he'd be here around seven."

"I can't see us having any problems," Ms Flores replied. "We'll have a nice time together."

"Mmhmm." Pepa collected her things, and then returned to the living room to cup his cheeks
and kiss his forehead. "See you in the morning, mi amor."

"See you tomorrow," he said quietly, a little nervous about being on his own with Ms Flores.
"Can't you stay?"

"I'm sorry darling, you know I can't. Your Dad will be home soon." Pepa brushed her fingers
through his hair reassuringly. "It'll be okay."

He wasn't sure that it would, but he nodded, and Pepa said a final goodbye to Ms Flores and
then departed. Once her car was driving down the street, Ms Flores put her hands on her hips
and said, "Okay, Christopher! How about you come help me in the kitchen?"

He couldn't be rude; it wasn't right. He didn't want to help, but instead he nodded, flicking off
the TV, and was making his way to the kitchen when she said, "Maybe it would be best for
you to use your crutches inside as well. You could trip on the carpet or on a rug."

He looked up at her, holding his hands out for balance. "What?"

"Christopher, it's rude to say 'what' – when we're being nice, we say 'pardon', okay?"

He frowned. "Sorry," he apologised, as she stepped aside to let him into the kitchen. Maybe it
was a little rude, but Dad and Buck never pulled him up on it.

She gestured for him to sit at the table and he did, watching as she checked whatever it was
that was cooking on the stove before taking a seat opposite him. There was something in the
oven as well – it smelled like roast chicken, and it was making his tummy rumble.

"So Christopher," she began, smiling at him, "I'm so interested in how you're going at school,
what subjects interest you the most – I was really hoping to speak to you alone about
everything, so we can get to know each other a little better. Outside of the classroom, that is."

Christopher was a little hesitant about that, but he nodded. "Okay."

"Do you like your new teachers?" she asked curiously.

That he could talk about – he told her all about Mr Richards and Mrs Anning. Mr Richards
was his math teacher and he was really nice; he was always full of jokes and stories to make
math fun, because math was pretty boring. And he hadn't liked Mrs Anning at first – she was
his English teacher, and she was kinda boring, but then she introduced her cat to the class and
he became a big part of their lessons. He even had his own computer that he sat in front of, so
he was a box on the screen, and every so often he'd do something funny – like yawn really
widely, or sprawl out on his belly – and the whole class would crack up.

"His name is Pretzel," he said to Ms Flores, "and she said he's a calico cat on the outside and
the reincarnated soul of a Victorian-era orphan on the inside but I don't really know what that
means."

Ms Flores chuckled. "Might be an inside joke," she replied gently. "That's wonderful that you
have two teachers you really like. And so many interests as well. I saw the Lego castle you
have in your room – did you build that yourself?"

He shook his head. "When Buck was hurt and not at work, he babysat me, so we built it
together at his house. And then Dad had to bring it here in his car and the turret fell off, so
then Buck had to come over and fix it again because Dad didn't know how. But I think he just
doesn't really like Lego all that much."

Her expression looked a little weird, like she wasn't sure what to say. "Buck was hurt at
work?"

"Yeah, but I don't know how." Christopher picked up a pen and began to turn it in his hands.
"He broke his leg. He was off work for months! And then right after that we went to the pier
and the tsunami happened."
"Oh, of course," she said, resting her head on her hand, listening to him with interest. "I
remember hearing about that from some of the other teachers. You were with Buck on that
day?"

He nodded. "Buck saved my life," he said proudly. "It was amazing. He saved so many
people. He's like a superhero."

"Very brave," she agreed. "And you must have been brave as well."

"I guess so," he said thoughtfully. "I just kept swimming. I knew Buck would save me."

Ms Flores smiled at him, though he thought it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And what did your
Dad think of you and Buck being caught up in the tsunami together?"

Christopher sat back in his seat, tapping the pen on the table. "He was scared but I told him
what happened and he was okay. Buck's our best friend. Even when we were separated, I
knew he'd never stop looking for me."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Separated?"

"Yeah, because of the water coming back in… or out, I can't remember." He didn't like to
think about that day; about the water rushing over his head and him spinning out of control;
he didn't like to think about how scared he was. So he shrugged at her and played with the
pen again.

Ms Flores nodded, and then stood to check on her food again. The whole house smelled
great, and his stomach was grumbling.

"So I see from all the things in your room that you like space," she said, stirring the pot and
then lowering the heat. "Did your Dad buy the posters and books and things?"

"Yeah, some," he replied. "Buck bought some too."

"Buck spends a lot of time here, huh?"

He nodded. "Because of the pandemic. And before as well, because… Dad says we need to
keep our bubble small. So Buck is in our bubble, but I don't really understand what that
means."

"It means your Dad trusts him a lot." Ms Flores quickly opened the oven, nodded, and then
closed it again.

"What are you making?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's a surprise," she said with a wink. "I hope you'll enjoy it."

"It smells good."

Ms Flores gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you. I just hope it tastes nice as well."
He watched as she chopped some green herbs – he wasn't sure which kind – and thought that
it was kinda nice just talking to her on his own. He'd always liked her as a teacher, but he was
beginning to see that she was a normal person as well. She wasn't Buck, but that was okay.

The silence had dragged on a little longer than he was comfortable with, so he asked, "Are
you a doctor now? Dad said you have a doctorate."

Ms Flores chuckled, glancing over at him. "I have a PhD in early childhood development,
yes."

"That's cool."

"I'm glad you think so. It's been my dream for a really long time, so it was a very special day
for me." She set down her knife, stirred the pot one last time and then sat across from him
again. "Your Dad tells me that you have big dreams too. You were talking about archaeology
the other night. Is that something you want to do?"

He shrugged. "Maybe? I like dinosaurs as well, or space, or ancient history – and I like
reading about the ocean too. Buck got me this book about shipwrecks, it's so cool."

"Your Dad just lets Buck buy you whatever he wants?" she asked curiously.

"Dad said I should read about whatever I'm interested in. Dad said he wants me to be
interested in anything and everything," he said proudly.

"Sure," she agreed, but then added, "within reason, of course. Your book on Ancient Greece
is probably a little too advanced for you to read. If you had any questions, you could ask me."

He shook his head. "I don't have any questions; I finished it last week."

"By yourself?"

"Yep!" he replied enthusiastically. "And then I watched a YouTube video about volcanoes,
and Buck sent me this video about Pompeii and he said that we can go there one day. And he
sent me some more videos about it—"

"Christopher," she said abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Where do these interests of
yours come from? It seems like everything you like, Buck likes too. It's okay to be interested
in different things. I know you think he's a superhero, but… he's not always right about
everything."

He stared at her, taken aback. "Um…"

Ms Flores smiled ruefully at him. "It just seems like Buck is influencing you a lot, and maybe
there are other things you are actually more interested in - and maybe you like the things you
like because you think that's what he wants."

He had no idea how to respond to that. It wasn't true? At least he was pretty sure it wasn't
true.
She stood again, stepping over to the stove. "I mean, I understand," she tried to explain.
"When I was a little girl, my older sister – Inez – was five years older than me, and I just
worshipped the ground she walked on. I wanted to be like her so much. I wanted to wear the
same clothes, do my hair and make-up the same way, and I used to follow her around because
she was my hero. And I understand that Buck is your hero, Christopher, but his interests don't
have to be your interests as well."

"They're not," he said uncomfortably. The conversation had taken a sharp turn and he was
struggling to catch up. "I… I like history, and…"

"But you're only nine-years-old," she said gently. "You have so much to learn. And Buck is
so nice and helpful, and I understand that your Dad has been all alone since your mother
passed away—"

He flinched at that, clutching the pen in his hands tightly.

"Buck must have been such a help to him." Ms Flores gave him a sympathetic look. "But you
can feel free to just be yourself and like the things that you like. You don't need to impress
Buck."

He wasn't? That wasn't what he was doing at all. Sure, he thought Buck was awesome, but
his Mom was the one who started reading to him, his Dad had continued with it - and any
time he expressed an interest in learning about something new, Dad would try to find
information for him. Buck helped with that, because he loved to learn new stuff as well. Did
she not… had he not explained it?

Ms Flores checked the oven again and then turned to him. "So without Buck here," she said,
raising her eyebrows at him, "if you could be anything – honestly – what would you be?
What do you want to do with your life? And remember, you can just be totally honest with
me."

He stared at her, confused. "I want to be an archaeologist, or work at NASA or… study the
oceans, or…"

She nodded, and then said, "Some of those things aren't easy to do, you know?
Archaeologists work in the dirt all day, digging up things. It's hard work. And people who
study the oceans are away on boats for months at a time – they have to learn to stay steady
when the sea is high and the boat is rocking. What else would you want to do?"

NASA, he thought, but shrugged at her. "I don't know."

"What about writing a book?"

He made a face. "I want to travel and see everything and have an adventure, just like Buck."

Ms Flores shook her head ruefully. "Buck again," she commented.

She just didn't understand, he decided, frowning deeply at her. Maybe she didn't like Buck?
Whatever it was, it was making him not like her very much, because Buck wasn't going
anywhere. Buck had reassured him that he wasn't. What if she tried to make him leave?

"I just think that you would be better off worrying less about what Buck has done in his life,
and focus on what you can do," she said – and her tone was nice, but… in a way, it also
wasn't nice? Like she thought she knew best. "You're a very different person to Buck,
Christopher. He might have had a lot of adventures, but that's not the path that you have to
follow."

And then suddenly, it hit him. She was saying that because he couldn't follow Buck. He
couldn't be like Buck, because Buck didn't have CP.

She was trying, in the nicest way possible, like so many other people had done before, to tell
him that having CP was going to hold him back.

Suddenly feeling very small, Christopher set the pen down on the table and carefully rose to
his feet. "I'm going to wait in my room for Dad to come home," he said.

Ms Flores was examining the contents of the oven again, and replied, "Okay, sweetheart. I'll
call you for dinner."

Sweetheart.

His Mom used to call him that, when he was really little, and she was tucking him into bed –
he remembered the way her hands had brushed through his hair; he remembered the smell of
her perfume and the sound of her voice in his ear. He left the kitchen, holding onto the wall
as he went down the hallway, right on the verge of tears.

He wasn't ready for another mother – he did not want another mother. He didn't want to be
called sweetheart by someone he hardly knew; he didn't want her to tell him that he only had
his interests because of Buck, and that he couldn't do the things he wanted to do because of
his CP.

He stepped into his room, closed the door, and looked over at his shelves and pictures and
books, and his Dad's laptop sitting on his desk. He could call Buck, but maybe he shouldn't?

What if they all thought she was right? What if Dad and Buck had been lying to him? Telling
him that he could be anything he wanted; telling him that he could work at NASA… what if
none of that was true?

Christopher wiped his eyes with his sleeve, taking a seat on the end of the bed. Maybe he was
stupid for just wanting Dad to be with Buck. Maybe it was stupid to want Buck in their lives
at all. Buck had his own life and if they weren't in love now they were never going to fall in
love.

And maybe Buck only put up with him because of Dad? Because they had to work together?
Maybe Buck thought that he was stupid and annoying? Maybe he was just taking pity on
him.
Christopher felt all squiggly again, and hot… and sad. Desperately sad. He looked over at his
shelves again, a tear snaking its way down his cheek, and spotted the picture Dad had taken
of him and Buck at the zoo, before the pandemic started… there was a hippo behind them. It
was such a funny day because they'd watched the hippo eat a watermelon whole and then it
had done a big poop and Buck had laughed so hard…

But maybe he didn't really want to be around them, and maybe…

Maybe none of it was real.

Christopher stood and went to the shelf, taking the picture down. He studied it for a moment,
and then dropped it into his trashcan.
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Eddie

"Ana's babysitting Christopher and cooking dinner again tonight?" Buck asked as they strode
out to their cars together.

Eddie let out an unhappy sigh, nodding. "Yeah."

"Dude…"

"It might be good." He hitched his bag up on his shoulder, checking his watch. "Pepa would
have taken off an hour ago. I hope Chris is okay."

"She was his teacher, he should be fine." Buck unlocked his jeep and threw his bag into the
back. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Eddie paused, fiddling with his keys, and then said, "You don't want to come with
me, do you?"

Buck barked out a laugh. "Seriously?"

Eddie just shrugged at him. "I don't know… I kinda wish she wasn't there. I'm wiped out."

"So go home, have dinner, tell her how tired you are, and ask her to leave," Buck replied
dryly. "I'm not coming with you."

"You're meant to have my back."

Buck laughed. "For like, heroic, saving-your-life-shit," he teased. "Not you trying to avoid
the woman you've been dating for a month because you don't really like her."

Eddie sighed. "I never said that."

Buck just shook his head. "Dude, when I was falling for Abby… if I knew she was waiting
for me and cooking me dinner, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you," he said bluntly.
"I'd already be on the way home to be with her."

Eddie met Buck's eyes over the roof of his car, and suddenly realised that he was right. God
damn it, he was right – he'd been telling himself for weeks to just keep trying, because love
wasn't something that happened in an instant, and that they had chemistry, and that things
would eventually click into place, but…

It was never going to click into place, because she wasn't right for him. And he was playing a
part when he was around her, and it was exhausting.
Buck tilted his head to the side, gazing at him curiously. "What are you thinking about?
You're making your thinky face."

His thinky face? Eddie snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "God, you're… my thinky
face? Really?"

"Yeah, when your eyes get real beady and you purse your lips so tight, like you've been
sucking on a lemon. Your thinky face. Christopher does the same thing."

Eddie breathed out a laugh, gazing at Buck with unbridled affection. "How do you know me
so well?"

"I've been studying at the University of Diaz for the last few years; I like to think I'm on my
way to some kind of doctorate in advanced Diaz facial expressions," Buck quipped.

I love you, Eddie thought suddenly.

And then it hit him, again.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

Oh fuck.

Buck narrowed his eyes at him. "This face is new," he commented, tilting his head to the side.
"This face is like you just had a thought but you're not sure you like the thought. What was
the thought?"

"I'm going to break up with her," Eddie heard himself say, but his brain was still swimming
with the realisation that he was head over heels in love with his best friend.

"Wow," Buck replied, looking surprised. "Okay. You've been pretty adamant about sticking
with it—"

"No, I'm breaking up with her. Tonight. I'll do it after dinner, while Christopher is in his room
or something. She's a really nice person, but… there's no spark," he said, reaffirming it to
himself. "I've been trying, thinking that maybe I could make this thing work and find a
replacement mother for Christopher, when he doesn't fucking need one."

"Ah, it was an epiphany face," Buck commented. "Good to know. Do what you gotta do,
okay? And tell me how it goes."

"I'll call you later," he promised.

"You better; you'll save me from Albert." Buck opened his car door, and then paused, looking
over at him again. "He suggested we go to bungee yoga. He suggested that. To me. In the
middle of a pandemic. It's socially distanced, he reassures me, but… bungee yoga? Me? The
least graceful person ever?"

Eddie had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "What is it?"
"You do yoga in a hammock? I don't freaking know. He says we can pick up girls there,
which I guess I'm not totally against, but… yoga? In a hammock?"

Girls? Eddie tried to keep his face expressionless – Buck was an expert, apparently – and
rested his arms on the roof of his car. "Can you bail on him? Is that okay? Just for tonight?"

Buck grinned at him. "All right, but you better call," he warned. "I'll never hear the end of it
otherwise. He'll have some sob story about how he could've met the love of his life there."

"He's an optimist; I've always liked that about him," Eddie said with a grin. "I'll talk to you
later."

"Good luck," Buck replied, and Eddie nodded at him before sliding into his car.

The decision was made, and there was no reason they couldn't be adults about it – he would
simply tell her that it wasn't working out, that she was a lovely person and that he was sorry,
and then, after Christopher was in bed, he'd call Buck.

And after that, he'd figure out how to tell him that he was in love with him.

Eddie had never actually broken up with anyone before - that was the thing. He'd been
dumped by both his high school girlfriends, and then only dated around casually before he
met Shannon, who… had dumped him twice, effectively. So he rehearsed what he was going
to say in his head as he drove home – 'Ana, I've really enjoyed getting to know you, and
you're a wonderful person, and I'm sorry to do this but I need to break up with you.'

Because I'm kind of in love with my best friend and I really want to be with him.

Nervous butterflies were winging their way around his stomach as he pulled into the
driveway. He grabbed his bag out of the backseat and jogged up to the house, taking his shoes
off outside and sanitising his hands before stepping inside.

"You're home!" Ana exclaimed, hurrying out of the kitchen to greet him. "Perfect timing.
Dinner is ready."

He turned his face to the side when she leaned in for a kiss, so her lips caught his cheek
instead. Confused, she pulled back, tilting her head to the side. "I'll just wash up," he said to
her, wondering where Christopher was. "Christopher's in his room?"

She nodded. "Probably reading a book," she said lightly, patting his arm. "I'll dish everything
up."

Eddie left his wallet and keys near the door, sniffing the air. The house smelled great, like
roast chicken, and he felt a little guilty that she'd been cooking for him while he was planning
on dumping her. As he walked down the hallway he wondered if he should break up with her
before or after dinner, but… before seemed a little too mean? Thanks for taking care of my
son and cooking me dinner, now get the fuck out of my house.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then rapped lightly on Christopher's door, pushing it
open. "Hey buddy," he said, stepping into the dimly lit room. He flipped the overhead light
on and found Christopher on his bed, his stuffed bear in his arms, asleep.

Eddie checked his watch – just after seven – and went to the side of the bed, taking a seat on
the edge. As soon as the mattress shifted, Christopher opened his eyes and blinked up at him.
He looked a little unwell - his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were rimmed with red, as
though he'd been crying.

"You okay?" Eddie murmured to him, placing a hand on his forehead. Nice and cool, totally
normal. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Christopher sat up, holding his arms out for a hug.

Eddie pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. Christopher rested
his chin on his shoulder, still holding his bear.

Something was wrong. Christopher wasn't usually so clingy – he should've been starving and
ready for dinner. Eddie rubbed his back and then pulled away, studying his face with concern.
"What happened?"

Christopher shook his head. "Nothing," he mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

A lie.

He was about to press him further when Ana appeared in the doorway. "Dinner's ready," she
said, and then frowned. "Is Christopher okay?"

Eddie nodded, rising to his feet and helping Christopher off the bed. "He's fine. Okay, we're
coming."

Christopher was holding his hand, and he wasn't sure why, but he happened to glance over at
the bookshelves around the desk just as they were exiting the room. One of the shelves
looked a little blank – they all had framed photos on them, but one was missing.

Eddie puzzled over that as they went out to the dining room, trying to work out which picture
was missing. Ana was setting the last plate down, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He'd
been expecting roast chicken, not a small, roasted bird, with wings and legs extended, on a
bed of quinoa and topped with roasted carrots and a drizzle of sauce.

"Squab," she explained, beaming at him. "What do you think?"

Christopher looked distraught. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"It's uh… it's…" Eddie couldn't think of what it was, exactly, but he remembered Buck telling
him about how he'd eaten it at a fancy restaurant one night. "Quail?"

"No, it's pigeon," Ana corrected him. "It's a roasted baby pigeon."

"Pigeon?" Christopher repeated, his eyes wide. "No."

"It's delicious," she tried to reassure him. "You'll like it."

Eddie rubbed the bridge of his nose – again with the fine dining? Christopher looked up at
him tearfully, and Eddie had no choice but to say, as gently as possible, "Ana, I'm so sorry,
but this is way too much for him. He's nine. It looks great, but—"

"Let's let him try some first; it's delicious," she said encouragingly, and began to cut into the
small bird. "Here, Christopher. You'll like it, I promise."

"Dad," Christopher whispered, practically hiding behind him. "Daddy…"

"Ana, no," Eddie said firmly, and she turned to him with surprise. "I'm sorry. This looks
great, and I can't wait to try it, but he's not going to eat it. It's just a little too adult for him."

Ana went red with embarrassment, and then forced a smile. "Okay. I'm sorry – you know I
love to cook."

"I know you do, and you're great at it, but Christopher likes macaroni and cheese from a
box," he explained, as Christopher pressed his head against his stomach and hugged him
tightly. "I'll just quickly whip him up something, okay?"

"I'm so sorry," she said again, but he was already leading Christopher into the kitchen and
sitting him at the table.

He quickly made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut it into triangles and arranged it on a
plate, and then said, "Okay, come on."

"No," Christopher muttered, his head in his hands.

Concerned, Eddie set the sandwich on the table in front of him and knelt at his side. "Please
tell me what's wrong."

He heaved a sigh, and then said, "Nothing."

"Yeah, nothing," Eddie repeated dryly, but pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek. "It's
okay. I'll eat your squab."

"It's so gross. Pigeons are gross."

"These ones are okay to eat." Eddie helped Christopher out of the chair and nudged him
toward the door. "Come on."

Dinner was… quiet. Awkward. Christopher was silent, only responding with one-word
answers when he was spoken to. Eddie was on edge, wondering what the hell had happened,
and Ana seemed to know that something was up. She kept glancing at him uneasily, and
when he dodged any plans she tried to make, she deflated more and more.
The squab was nice – he easily ate his and Christopher's – but he was struggling to make
polite conversation with her. Christopher finished his food first and asked to leave the table,
and Eddie patted him on the back and let him go. His Abuela would probably have something
to say about Christopher not waiting until everyone was finished eating, but they would cover
proper dining etiquette on another night.

Ana watched him leave, and as soon as they were alone, she levelled him with a look. "You're
different tonight," she said nervously. "What's going on?"

Eddie pushed his plate aside, took a sip of water and said, "I have no idea how to do this,
but…"

"But… you're breaking up with me," she guessed, her voice quiet.

He nodded. "Yeah, I am. I'm sorry."

Ana's eyes filled with tears. "Can I ask what I did?"

"I can be clichéd and say that it's not you, it's me, but…" he trailed off, trying to gather his
thoughts. "I just don't think we're a good match."

There was silence as his words sunk in. Ana wiped a stray tear from her cheek, sniffling, and
then said, "Edmundo, we could be really good together. I like you so much."

"I know," he replied honestly. "I know you do, and please don't take this the wrong way, but
Christopher is my life, and everyone else comes second to him. I just can't shake the feeling
that you like me more than him – or you like the idea of me more than you actually like me.
I've told you a couple of times to just call me Eddie, you know?"

Another tear snaked down her cheek. "I thought we had a connection. I'm sorry if it seems
like I'm not trying hard enough with Christopher, I just – I was his teacher, so I still feel like
I'm crossing a boundary with him. Honestly, Edmundo – Eddie - I really want to make this
work with you. We have so much in common."

"I just don't think we do," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry. I apologise for tonight, and for the
work you put in. I'm genuinely sorry to do this to you tonight, but dragging it out any longer
is just going to make it worse."

Ana sniffled again, wiping her eyes. She sat back in her seat, staring blankly at the wall, and
finally said, "I guess I can't compete, huh?"

Confused, Eddie said, "Compete?"

"With Buck." Ana hugged herself. "I see how you and Christopher light up whenever he's
here... if you're questioning your sexuality or something, I really wish you hadn't dragged me
into it."

He shook his head slightly, and said, "I promise I haven't been using you for anything. It
wasn't my intention. I'm not like that, Ana. I just can't give you what you want. Christopher's
not happy, and I feel like I'm not myself when I'm with you. That's not fair to you at all."
She met his eyes again and said softly, "No, it's not. Okay."

"I really am sorry," he offered. "Truly."

"Yeah, me too." She let out a breath, making a move as if to stand, but then stopped.
"Actually, I want to say something to you before I go, because if I don't, I know I'll regret it."

Eddie held his hands up, prepared for whatever she was going to throw at him. "Okay."

She gathered her thoughts, and then said, "Please don't take this the wrong way. It's not meant
to hurt your feelings; it's just an observation."

He steeled himself, nodding at her.

"I'm worried about Christopher," she said simply, and then paused, as if trying to find the
right words.

His mind was instantly reeling – was this why Christopher was upset? What reason did she
have to be worried about him?

Ana finally met his eyes again and said, "You've let Buck into your life completely; you let
him influence your son and fill his head with big ideas and dreams that almost certainly won't
come true. You let Christopher blindly follow him and worship everything he says – it's not
healthy. All he does is talk about Buck. He needs to develop his own interests and personality
without being preoccupied with what Buck thinks."

Eddie had been feeling guilty, and sorry for her, but that was replaced with a lightning bolt of
pure rage. He took a moment, swallowed the rage down, and said tightly, "I think you've
misunderstood."

She shook her head, shrugging at him apologetically. "I'm just telling you what I've seen. It's
wonderful that Christopher has Buck in his life, but he lost his mother at a young age and he's
latched on to someone in an attempt to fill that void in his life. Edmundo, please don't get me
wrong – you're a wonderful father and you're trying your best, but… I think you need to
gently lower Christopher's expectations."

"Lower his expectations?" he repeated, hoping she wasn't saying what he thought she was
saying.

Ana gave him a rueful look. "He can't be like Buck. He can't do what Buck has done in his
life. He'll have different opportunities – he's such a smart boy, and I know he's going to have
a wonderful life. But he just can't follow in your footsteps, or Buck's. He has to make
different choices."

Eddie exhaled slowly. He stared at her, his jaw clenched, about to ask her to leave, when he
suddenly had a sobering thought. "He's upset," he said to her quietly. "I came home and he
was upset. You didn't say any of that to him, did you?"

"We had a lovely conversation and I don't think I upset him at all," she replied. "He was
fine."
"What did you say to him?" Eddie asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

She straightened up, blinking rapidly. "I just told him that he doesn't need to work so hard to
impress Buck, and that he doesn't need to pretend to be interested in things because he thinks
Buck will like them as well. I thought maybe he needed to hear it; that he could just be
himself."

Eddie shook his head, and said, "Ana, you had no right to say that to my son."

"Edmundo—"

"Ana, please. All I asked you to do was watch him for an hour. That's all. You really said that
to him?"

"I was just trying to help," she whispered, on the verge of tears again. "I just wanted to help."

"Nobody asked for your help or your opinion," he replied stiffly. "Christopher isn't interested
in things because of Buck. His mother started the tradition of reading to him when he was a
baby. It's something we've continued. He decides on the things that he's interested in, and he
tells me, or he tells Buck – or I tell Buck. Buck isn't influencing Christopher negatively.
You've met him – why would you think that?"

"I just thought that if I was going to be in Christopher's life, it would be better for me to be
honest with him," she replied, her voice breaking. "Because you're not."

"I'm not being honest with him?"

"You and Buck tell him he can be an archaeologist or work at NASA—"

"He can," Eddie cut in sharply. "He can do those things. And maybe his journey won't be the
same as everyone else, but they have lots of different jobs at NASA. Archaeologists don't
only work in the field! We watched a whole documentary about it." He paused, and then said,
"I know my son better than you. I know what he's capable of accomplishing when he puts his
mind to it. You had no right to make him doubt himself."

She gasped, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I was only trying to help," she wept. "I'm
sorry. I'll go." She stood, trying to hold herself together, and started to the kitchen.

"Would you please go and apologise to him? Maybe tell him that you're wrong?" Eddie
asked, rising to his feet.

Ana came to a stop in the doorway, wiping her eyes. She sucked in a shuddering breath,
shook her head, and said, "No, I won't."

He swore under his breath, folding his arms across his chest while she packed her things. She
finally emerged, striding out to the front door, before stopping and turning to him again.

"When you're ready to talk about Christopher's future," she said tearfully, "I'll be here if you
need me."
Eddie rested his hands on his hips, shaking his head at her. "No. We're good."

Ana shook her head at him one last time, regretfully, and then left the house. The door shut
quietly behind her, and once he was alone, he let out a trapped breath.

He had to check on Christopher, but he could resist sending a message to Buck. It's done, it
was bad – can you come over? Now? Please? We need you

Buck's reply was instant. Be there in five.

Christopher thought he'd heard the front door open and close, but hadn't bothered to
investigate. Going outside meant seeing Ms Flores again and he was not at all interested in
that.

Instead he flipped through his Big Book of Science, opening it up to the astronomy section,
studying the pictures of the solar system again. One day he was planning on asking his dad
for a telescope, but he thought that it might be too expensive. And there was light pollution in
Los Angeles which would make it kind of pointless…

He let out a sigh, pushing the book away. Maybe it was all pointless and dumb.

"Chris," Dad said, pushing open the door. "I've got to talk to you."

Christopher looked over at him with surprise, watching as he dragged the desk chair over to
the side of the bed. He looked worried, his jaw all clenched, and Christopher reached out a
hand to touch his cheek.

Dad clasped it between his hands and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm sorry, okay?"

"For what?" he asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Dad gave him a sad smile. "I just broke up with Ms Flores. I'm sorry that I let her come over,
and I'm sorry that I got caught up at work tonight… and for whatever she said to you, Chris,
I'm sorry."

How did he know? Had she told him? Confused, he asked in a small voice, "Did she tell
you?"

Dad nodded. "But I knew when I got home that something was wrong – I know you pretty
well," he said, and Christopher nodded seriously. "I know she said some things about Buck
—"

"That I'm just trying to impress him," he murmured. "That I only like the things he likes."
"We both know that's not true," Dad said gently. "You're the one who comes up with the big
ideas, remember? You're the one who made him watch that documentary about Ancient
Greece. You're the one who started to get interested in space and the solar system – he just
enables you, Chris, whenever you have a new idea. He loves to learn."

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"Because…" Dad trailed off, thinking, and then rested his hands on Christopher's shoulders.
"Because when he was a little kid, he didn't really have anyone in his life to encourage him to
be interested in things, I guess. So it wasn't until he was older that he began to read books and
expand his mind. He could probably explain it better than me, but he will never stop
encouraging your interests, because you two help each other."

Christopher thought about that, chewing his lower lip. "We do?"

Dad nodded emphatically. "You have the big ideas, Buck finds the reading material. It's a
mutually beneficial relationship, kiddo."

"And what do you do?"

"I get to listen to you guys talk about everything, and that makes me happy." Dad cupped his
face. "We've had this talk before, but I'm going to tell you again that I will never lie to you,
Christopher. Not ever. Maybe some things will be tougher for you than other people, but that
doesn't mean you can't do what you want to do, okay? We'll just figure out how you can do it
and go from there."

Christopher looked around his room, trying not to cry. "Okay."

"You have me and Buck," Dad said softly. "We're on your team, okay? We don't lie to you. I
don't lie to you."

"I know," he whispered. "But I lied to you about Buck being sad, and about liking Ms
Flores… I didn't want to give her a chance. I just didn't know how to tell you."

Dad nodded. His eyes were watery. "I know."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, buddy – I'm mad at me. I'm sorry that I moved too quickly with Ms Flores. I'm sorry
that I put you through this. I'm really, really sorry."

It wasn't Dad's fault, not at all. Christopher shifted and gave him a hug, resting his head on
his shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Dad sniffled. "It is, buddy. I'm sorry." He kissed his cheek and hugged him, rocking back and
forth.

They were silent for a few moments. Christopher closed his eyes – it was okay, she was
wrong. She didn't know them. He'd forgotten that – she had no idea about them, none at all.
About how they were a family. She didn't fit, and now Dad had made her go away.
Dad rubbed his back, and then said in his ear, "What do you mean you lied about Buck being
sad?"

Christopher pulled away from him, covering his face with his hands, ashamed. "I just wanted
you to be with Buck. I wanted to make you see how important he is."

"I know how important he is," Dad said gently, prying his hands away, and then pulling him
in for another reassuring hug. "You don't have to lie to me about Buck, all right? He's our
guy. It's okay."

"You won't tell him?"

"No, I'll keep your secrets." Dad kissed his forehead, rocking him back and forth.

Christopher clutched at his shirt. "I love you so much, Daddy."

He heard the gentle rumble of Dad's laughter, and then he whispered, "I love you so much,
Christopher. So much. I'm so sorry that she said those things to you. If I'd know that was how
she really felt, I would never have started seeing her. You just have to remember not to take
any of that to heart, okay? There are always going to people who don't think you can or
should live your life the way you want – just ignore them. You have me and Buck in your
corner, and Pepa, Abuela, Carla and everyone at the 118, okay? You have so many people
who love you and care about you. Her opinion doesn't matter."

Reassured, Christopher smiled up at him. "Okay."

Dad cupped his cheek affectionately, and then glanced at the bookshelf. "Hey, where's your
picture of Buck? It's missing."

He'd no sooner asked the question than Christopher was on the verge of tears. "I put it… I put
it in the trash," he admitted, and began to cry again. "I'm sorry. Don't tell him."

"Oh, it's okay, it's okay," Dad whispered, planting a firm kiss to his forehead before rising to
his feet. He retrieved the frame from the trashcan and held it up to show him, before putting it
back in its place. "I'm sorry she made you doubt Buck for even a second, okay? He loves you
so much, Chris," he said reassuringly, taking his seat again. "I won't tell him; I promise."

Christopher nodded, wiping his eyes. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Listen… from now on, if you're worried, or anxious, or anything – you come and
talk to me, okay? We'll figure it out together," Dad said gently. "We've got to take care of
each other."

He nodded, hugging him again. "Okay, Daddy."

"I love you so much," Dad said again. "Buck's coming over, and you can talk to him if you
want."

"He is?" he asked – even after everything, the simple fact of Buck coming over to their house
still made him happy.
Dad nodded. "Yeah," he said, sitting back again. "He might be around a bit more than usual."

"That's okay," Christopher replied, sniffling, wiping his eyes. "I love Buck."

Dad smiled at him. "Me too."

Me too. What did that mean? Just that… Dad loved Buck in a friend way? Or more?

Buck

He wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at Eddie's house, but it wasn't a dining table
covered in dirty plates, a kitchen that looked like a bomb had hit it, and both Diaz boys
tearfully hugging in Christopher's room.

"Hey," he said softly, and they both turned to him with surprise. "Sorry to interrupt. Are you
guys okay? What's going on?"

"Big night," Eddie replied, wiping his eyes. "I'll fill you in later. Can you hang with Chris for
me while I clean up outside?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, but Christopher wouldn't meet his eyes. What the hell had happened?
"What did she serve you?"

Eddie let out a rueful chuckle. "It was squab," he said, raising his eyebrows at Buck.

"Pigeon," Christopher groaned, flopping onto the bed. "It was horrible."

He laughed, taking a step into the room. "Squab, huh? Any leftovers?"

"No, she took her supplies when she left." Eddie raked a hand through his hair and stood. "I
better start cleaning up."

"I'll come out and give you a hand in a sec," Buck offered.

"Nah, you're on bedtime duties," Eddie replied, squeezing Buck's shoulder, and then let his
hand slide down his arm. "And then you can stay and talk to me, all right?"

Something about Eddie was different. Buck glanced down as Eddie's hand slipped into his –
their fingers interlaced, and he lifted his head to meet Eddie's eyes again. "Okay," he replied,
as his heart began to thump in his chest. "All right."

"Good." Eddie smiled at him, released his hand, and left the room.

Buck put it out of his mind as he glanced over at Christopher, and suddenly realised just how
upset he was. "Hey," he said, dropping into the vacated seat. "What's wrong, buddy? Are you
okay?"

"No," Christopher replied miserably, his eyes shining with tears. "Buck… you don't think I'm
stupid, do you?"

Buck was adjusting himself on the small desk chair, and was so completely taken aback by
the question that he almost lost his balance and fell off. He had to grab the bed for support,
and then sat up straight, shaking his head at Christopher in shock. "No way, kiddo. Not ever.
Not for one single second. Why?"

"Ms Flores says that I like the things you like to impress you," Christopher whispered
shamefully.

Buck was dumbfounded. "She said that to your face?"

"Uh huh."

Buck looked around the room, shaking his head. "Half of this stuff you introduced to me," he
pointed out, as a tear slipped down Christopher's cheek. "Chris - she's wrong. I mean, she's
not wrong about you impressing me – I have been impressed by you since the first day we
met – but you're the one who finds things, and then asks me about them, and I find you
books. That's how we do it! She has no idea."

Christopher relaxed enough to smile. "Daddy broke up with her."

Buck nodded. "Yeah, I know. I knew he was going to."

"She doesn't fit with us," Christopher said quietly. "I think she was trying to be like… my
Mom. But I don't want that."

"No, you only had one mom, and she was amazing," Buck said gently. "No one can replace
her."

Christopher finally met his eyes. "I think you're the coolest," he said quietly, "but my Dad is
cooler."

Buck laughed. "Yeah, he is," he agreed. "Your Dad's the best. I know I'm in second place."

"A close second," Christopher replied, and leaned in to hug him. "I love you, Buck."

"I love you too, Chris. I'm sorry she made you think that I don't like the things you like, or
that you bother me, or… whatever she made you think," he said, hugging him close. "You
know you're my best friend. You know how much I love you and your Dad."

"Can you just stay with us?" Christopher whispered in his ear. "Dad loves you."

What? Buck's heart began to beat faster. "He does?"

"I think so," Christopher said thoughtfully. "Because after me, you're his favourite person."
Buck grinned. "After you, he's my favourite too."

"I'm number one?"

"Yeah, of course. You know you're my best friend," Buck replied, and Christopher beamed at
him. "Now, no more crying, all right? We're going to read something funny together and then
you're going to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day."

"Okay," Christopher agreed. "But I get to pick the book."

"No, you picked last time."

"Buck! I get to pick! You always pick!"

"You picked last time!"

"If neither of you can pick, I guess I will," Eddie called from the kitchen.

Buck and Christopher raised their eyebrows at each other. "I'll pick," Buck whispered. "Let
me have this one."

Christopher grinned. "Okay. Just this once."

Buck put Christopher to bed and read him a story, and the emotion of the night must have
taken its toll, because he was asleep after the first chapter.

Buck left him to sleep, wandering out to find Eddie, who was waiting for him in the kitchen
with a beer. "Rough night," Buck commented, taking the bottle out of his hand.

Eddie looked wrecked. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "It was pretty bad, and I'm pretty
pissed off that she made Christopher so upset. She thought she was doing him a favour – but I
genuinely have no idea what she was thinking, or exactly what she said."

"From what he told me, I got the impression she wasn't a huge fan of me being in his life,"
Buck said, leaning against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen to Eddie. "Maybe
she was feeling threatened."

"Or maybe she just believes her bullshit," Eddie muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I
knew something was wrong. I should've listened to my gut sooner. Look, he's nine – he
doesn't have to think about his future career right now. I know what he's interested in at the
moment, but in five years, everything might've changed, you know? I wanted to be a vet
when I was a kid, and then a year later I wanted to be a race car driver, and then a cowboy…
he's going to change his mind fifty times between now and college. No one is ever going to
be able to convince me that not supporting him is the right choice. Fuck off."

Buck nodded, swigging his beer. "Eddie, you know one of the reasons I trusted you so easily
and early was because you're an amazing father. Speaking as someone without that -
watching you raise Christopher is… a privilege."
Eddie blinked at him, his eyebrows lifting. "It is?"

"Yeah - you listen to him and support him; you never yell or raise your voice. You don't tell
him he has to do something when he clearly doesn't want to… like, it's incredible. And he
loves you for it," he explained, his voice low. "So I don't know what she said, but I know
she's wrong. Don't second guess yourself. Just keep doing what you're doing, because he is
going to be fucking awesome."

Eddie broke into a smile, nodding. "You think?"

"Yeah. He already is, but wow, I can't wait to see what he does with himself. It's gonna be
great," Buck replied confidently.

Eddie was beaming at him. "See, this is why I can't fucking stop myself from falling in love
with you," he said boldly.

Buck's heart stopped. "You… what?"

"You heard me. I've tried to deny it, or ignore it – I've tried so hard to pretend it wasn't
happening when the simple truth is that I just want you here with us, and I just want to be
around you all the time, and…" Eddie trailed off. "I tried dating someone else to see if that
would work, but it all comes back to you, Buck."

"Me," he said numbly. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. You know how you told me that your parents gave up on you? That you asked
them to love you anyway?" Eddie was staring at him, his eyes glittering. "I love you, Buck. I
will never give up on you. If you love me… I'm yours; I'll never love anyone else. I just want
to make you happy, you know? I just want to give you the family you've always wanted."

He realised his jaw was hanging open, but he hadn't come over to Eddie's house expecting a
heartfelt love confession – he hadn't expected Eddie to ever be the first to announce his
feelings. He'd thought he was going to have to do it – he'd been dropping hints like crazy.

Eddie bit his lower lip. "You could say something?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah," Buck murmured, "Yeah, I could, or…"

He pulled away from the bench, taking a step towards him. Eddie lifted his chin, searching
his face, and sighed when Buck leaned in and kissed him softly, but only briefly, before
pulling away.

It was then that he realised Eddie was frowning, and was instantly concerned. "What?" he
asked – had he crossed a line? It was too much, right?

But Eddie's expression lightened, and suddenly he was laughing at him. "You could kiss me a
bit better than that," he complained playfully. "I just poured my heart and soul out to you and
for what? A peck on the lips?"

Buck spluttered. "Um – I was just trying to ease you into it? Sorry!"
"Yeah, you should be," Eddie said with a grin, and then grabbed him by the collar. "Kiss me
like you fucking mean it, Buck. I know you want this."

"God, you're a cocky mother fucker, aren't you?" Buck growled, pushing him up against the
cabinets and crushing their lips together.

Eddie melted into it, hooking his arm around Buck's neck and holding him close. It was the
kiss Buck had been dreaming about – full of fire and passion; erasing all of his worries in an
instant.

It felt right, just like everything with Eddie and Christopher had always felt right. He was
exactly where he was supposed to be, with his people. His family.

Eddie pulled away, smiling sweetly at him. "I love you," he said again, his voice low, cupping
Buck's cheek. "I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

"You got here in the end," Buck whispered. "I've been waiting."

"I know." Eddie rubbed his thumb under Buck's right eye. "Will you stay?"

"Yes."

"Forever?"

Buck grinned, nodding. "Yes."

"Good." Eddie licked his lips, and leaned in to kiss him again.

A week had passed since the big breakup, and Christopher was feeling better about things –
particularly because Buck had been over every single day.

And he and Dad were kind of smiley, all the time, but he wasn't quite sure what that was
about and he didn't want to get his hopes up too much.

Christopher hadn't been present when Pepa had hit the roof about what Ms Flores said – but
he saw the wide-eyed expression on Buck's face afterwards and instantly understood. There
was this one time, before the pandemic, when he'd been at his Abuela's house for a party with
the rest of the family, and these people had come to the door and were trying to sell his
Abuela something, he wasn't sure what, but she kept asking them to leave and they wouldn't
listen until finally Pepa had emerged from the depths of the house and erupted like a volcano
of fury and practically chased them off the front steps and down the street.

It was amazing but also terrifying.

He considered himself lucky that he had so many people telling him that Ms Flores was
wrong, especially about Buck – Pepa had called Carla, and he'd spent half an hour with her
on Skype, talking everything through. He missed Carla so much.

The best part was that Buck was coming home with Dad every day as if he lived there with
them, and one afternoon, while Dad was giving Christopher a big hug, Pepa was giving Buck
one of his own and squeezing his cheeks, making his lips bulge out. Pepa liked Buck so much
– it was funny because she was the toughest in the family to please, but wow, she loved Buck.
And Buck loved her too.

In fact, it was weird because everyone looked so happy, and Dad and Buck were smiling at
each other and positively glowing - but he couldn't think about that for very long because
suddenly Buck leapt at them, and Dad swung him out of the way, and then he was shrieking
with laughter as Dad ran around the house away from Buck, who was making growling
noises and trying to grab them.

"You're going to hurt yourselves! I'm leaving!" Pepa shouted at them while they were at the
other end of the hall.

"Thanks for today!" Dad called back, tipping him upside down as he giggled hysterically.
"See you in the morning!"

"Maybe," she retorted, letting the door fall shut behind her.

Christopher was suddenly swept up into strong arms, and realised that Dad had passed him
over to Buck, and they were trooping back down to the kitchen.

"I'll cook," Dad announced. "You two hang out."

"We need to look at those Ancient Egypt books," Buck said to him. "You want to do that? We
can have a look through and maybe bring up some YouTube videos to watch."

"Okay," he agreed, a little hesitantly. "You think Ancient Egypt is cool, right?"

"So cool," Buck replied instantly. "One day when you're older, and the world is open to travel
again, your Dad and I will take you to see the pyramids."

"We will?" Dad asked dryly, as he rummaged around in the fridge.

"Yeah," Buck said with a grin. "We will. Come on, kiddo."

Christopher was excited at the idea of going on a holiday together – like a family holiday,
almost? – and he wanted to quiz Buck about it – but Buck was too busy talking about
pharaohs and someone named King Tut and then he was singing a song about King Tut – and
then Dad wanted to sing the song as well, which meant they had to find it on YouTube, and
then Christopher was practically dying of laughter watching Dad and Buck sing the song
while dancing around the house together like the world's biggest dorks.

~
It was funny how time worked – a month later and Ms Flores wasn't on his mind at all. It was
like she never existed, because Buck had practically moved in.

And that was totally fine with Christopher – having Buck there all the time meant fun, and
they watched The Mummy and The Mummy Returns again, and then they tried to watch The
Scorpion King, but the CGI was so bad that Dad kept groaning and covering his face.

Nothing had changed but it was like everything had, because Dad and Buck were so happy.
Dad kept suggesting that Buck stay, and Buck kept saying that he should probably go home,
but then Dad would stick his lower lip out and Buck would immediately agree to stay.

It was like Dad had some kind of magic power – like they just wanted to be together? Like
Buck just wanted to be with them, even if it was just to hang out.

One Sunday night, after Dad had successfully convinced Buck to stay, Christopher sat on the
couch behind him and dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to distract Buck while he
attempted to do a perfect run on Mario Kart.

"Are you staying forever?" he asked curiously, watching as Yoshi drove over the side of a
cliff for the third time in less than thirty seconds.

Buck was focused on the game, but asked, "Do you want me to?"

"Yep." Christopher tugged on his hair, moving his head from side to side, and Buck drove
Yoshi into a wall and sent him careening off another cliff.

"Well, maybe I will." Buck's tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on
the game.

Christopher leaned forward, resting his chin atop Buck's head, his arms around his neck. "Do
you really think that all the stuff I like is cool?"

"Yeah, I do," Buck replied, as Yoshi smashed into Donkey Kong and flipped over the side of
a bridge. "I like finding stuff for you to read, because then I get to read it too. And I didn't
really study a lot when I was in school, so learning about all this stuff now is fun. I didn't
know anything about Ancient Greece until we read that book."

"Do you think I could be an archaeologist if I wanted to?"

Buck nodded, just as Dad appeared in the doorway. "We believe you can do anything you put
your mind to," he replied. "You don't have to choose right now, but when you do decide what
you want, we'll back you up."

"Like we always do," Dad added.

"Unless you want to be a bull rider," Buck added, "and then we're gonna talk."

Christopher laughed. "How about a motorbike rider?"

"Absolutely not," Dad said with a grin. "Not a chance."

"A… crocodile hunter!"

"Now that would be pretty cool," Buck mused. "We could get you a hat and a big knife."

"No," Dad called, disappearing into the kitchen again. "No way."

"I don't think he wants you to get eaten by a crocodile." Buck passed him the game controller.
"Here, you defeat this level, I'm going to go talk your Dad into lion taming."

Christopher giggled, watching as Buck ducked into the kitchen. He was about to press play
on the game when he heard the soft rumble of Dad's laughter and glanced over curiously.

He couldn't see them, but he could hear them talking in low voices, and slipped off the couch.
He carefully made his way over to the doorway, trying to stay as silent as possible, and
peeked into the room.

Dad was leaning against the bench, holding a towel in his hands – dinner seemed to be at a
standstill, because he was smiling up at Buck. As Christopher watched, Buck reached out and
tugged on the towel, pulling Dad in closer to him – Dad was gazing up into Buck's eyes
adoringly, and then Buck leaned in and kissed him.

And then his brain exploded, because Dad was kissing Buck – Dad was smiling and kissing
Buck, and they were laughing together, and they looked so happy.

Had he successfully parent trapped them?

Or accidentally parent trapped them? An accidental parent trap was still a successful one, and
he was about to slink back to the living room when he heard Dad say, "Christopher, we can
see you."

He froze, looking up at them guiltily. "You were kissing Buck!”

Dad and Buck were smiling at him – Buck's arm was around Dad's waist. "Yeah, I was," Dad
said, though his cheeks were a little red, like he was embarrassed. "Is that okay?"

Was that OKAY?

It was more than okay, and he could hardly think of the right words to express how okay it
was.

"Yes," he finally exclaimed. "Yes!"

Buck laughed. "I told you," he said to Dad, who grinned at him. "I mean, if it wasn't for his
meddling…"

Christopher froze. "No. I didn't!"

"You did," Dad said, arching his eyebrows at him knowingly. "But that's okay. No more lying
though, all right?"
He shook his head vehemently. "I just wanted you to be happy," he said to Dad imploringly.
"Buck makes you happy."

"You both make me happy," Dad corrected, smiling at him. "God, kid. You know me better
than anyone."

Christopher smiled at him proudly. "I know."

Buck laughed. "This is gonna be fun," he said, gazing at Dad affectionately. "Us three."

"Yeah, and…" Dad tilted his head towards Christopher pointedly. "The thing…"

Buck looked confused for a second, and then exclaimed, "Oh! We're going camping next
weekend!"

"Camping!" Christopher shouted. "Where?!"

"Near a nice river, and if we're lucky, we should be able to go swimming," Buck said with a
grin. "Interested?"

"Yes!" he said eagerly, hardly able to believe it. He felt like he'd been stuck inside their house
for a year and now they were going camping! To a river! And he would be able to swim!

"Let's look at some pictures while your Dad finishes dinner," Buck said, grabbing his phone
from the counter.

They returned to the living room, and Buck settled in next to him on the couch, holding out
his phone. The camping spot did look really nice, and he was so excited that he couldn't stop
wriggling around.

Buck was laughing at him. "You're like a puppy today," he said affectionately.

"It's the best day," Christopher replied. "You're staying forever."

"I hope so," Buck replied. "I really love you guys. Your house has always felt like mine."

"It's your home," he said simply.

Buck's eyes suddenly looked a little watery. "Thanks, buddy," he said, ruffling his hair. "I
guess you're stuck with me now."

"Good," he replied with satisfaction, leaning against him. "My Mom really would've liked
you, Buck."

"Yes, she would've," Dad said from the kitchen doorway. "She'd be very happy about this."

Buck was beaming. "Well, I'll do my best," he said, and gave Christopher a sideways hug.
"I'll try to keep you guys happy."
"We'll make you happy," Christopher replied firmly. "And then you'll move in and stay
forever."

He laughed. "Sure," he said, glancing over at Dad, who was nodding at him. "I hope so."

Two Years Later

"Books first, then ice cream," Dad announced, and when Buck and Christopher both groaned
in unison, said, "Do not make me the buzzkill here! We said we were gonna get the books
first."

"We kinda want ice cream now," Buck complained, and when Dad gave him a put-upon look,
Buck relented and kissed his cheek. "Okay, okay. I hate it when you pout at me. Let's go."

Christopher led them into the Barnes and Noble, his eyes scanning the new release section
eagerly. He had birthday money from his grandparents burning a hole in his pocket, and a
whole list of books to buy.

Dad grabbed a basket, holding Buck's hand, watching as Buck and Christopher scoured the
shelves for the latest book in the fantasy series he was reading – A Tale of Dragons and Ice.

"Found it," Buck said, reaching up to the top shelf to grab it. "Hardcover?"

"Yep," Christopher replied, taking the book from him to examine the cover. "It looks so
cool."

"Maybe take your time with it," Dad suggested, and when Buck and Christopher turned to
him with matching expressions of disbelief, sighed. "Or you two just sit down and read it and
ignore me for a whole day like you did with the last one."

"Aw," Buck teased. "You could read it with us."

Dad just shook his head, sticking his lower lip out at Buck, who leaned in and kissed him
sweetly.

Christopher added the book to the basket and then said, "Okay, Young Adult next. And then
history. And then biographies. And then—"

"And then we see how much you're spending," Dad cut in good-naturedly. "Lead the way."

He did just that, starting in the Young Adult section before moving over to the history books.
That was where Buck came in handy, and they scoured through the collection together while
Dad watched them with a fond expression on his face.
Christopher had become more interested in the history of the space race, and he was excited
to find a book he hadn't read about the topic. Buck quickly checked the reviews on
Goodreads and declared it a good find, and they added it to the pile in the basket.

"Nature next?" Buck asked him, and he nodded and took one step forward before coming to
an abrupt stop.

Ms Flores was standing there awkwardly, like a deer caught in headlights, a couple of books
clutched to her chest. Christopher stopped in his tracks – she looked just as surprised to see
them as they were to see her, and it was weird, because he hadn't thought about her in years.

"Hi," she said awkwardly. "Um… good to see you all again. How are you, Edm- uh, Eddie?"

"Fine," Dad said, his tone polite but not very friendly. "You?"

"I'm well," she replied, holding up her left hand. "Engaged."

"Congratulations," Dad replied. "Buck and I got married six months ago."

Her jaw dropped, but she swiftly recovered. "Wow! Okay. Wow, that's amazing.
Congratulations to you guys."

"Thank you," Dad said, resting a hand on Christopher's shoulder.

She hadn't looked at him, not once. Christopher tried not to feel aggravated by it but it was
like he was invisible or something.

"Christopher's doing great," Buck suddenly said, and she turned to him with surprise. "In case
you're wondering. He's taking some advanced classes this year – science. His teachers are
really happy with his progress."

"Of course," she replied quietly. "He's a very smart boy."

She still wouldn't look at him. Christopher just shook his head, moving past her and towards
the nature section.

"Well, it was lovely to see you," he heard Ms Flores say to Dad and Buck. "I'm glad you're all
well."

"You too," Dad replied. "I hope everything works out for you."

Ms Flores paused, and then said, "You too. Okay. Goodbye."

Christopher turned to watch her scurry through the shelves, and then met his Dad's eyes. Dad
smiled at him and said, "Blast from the past, kiddo. You okay?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"Good. All right, let's wrap this up so we can get some ice cream," Dad said, rubbing Buck's
back reassuringly, but his eyes were trained on the basket of books. "Hey, you've got six here
—"

"I know, I just want a couple more!" he protested, turning towards the shelves again. "There's
a book about earthquakes that Buck said would be really good!"

"You're enabling his book habit," Dad grumbled to Buck.

"It could be worse; it's not like he's into Fortnite or anything."

Twelve Years Later

Everyone was gathered at a restaurant in downtown LA – they had a private function room to
themselves, celebrating Christopher attaining his Master's Degree from CalTech. His
grandparents had flown in from El Paso; a couple of his cousins were there; his Aunt Pepa;
Carla; his extended family from the 118; his best friends, Denny and Harry; his little sister,
Gracie; his fiancée, Emily; and finally, Dad and Buck, seated side by side at one end of the
table.

It was a big night – Christopher had accepted a position at NASA and would be starting in
the fall, but before then, he and Emily were heading to Europe for three months. They would
be travelling around in a campervan, seeing as much as they could in the little time that they
had, and would end their trip abroad with a week in Cairo before flying back to the United
States.

His job wouldn't take him too far from home – he'd be working at the Jet Propulsion
Laboratory in Pasadena, which had absolutely thrilled Dad and Buck, who were terrified
about losing him to the other side of the country. It was his dream job – the application
process had been rigorous and he was sure he wouldn't be offered the position, but to his
surprise, they'd chosen him out of so many others.

Buck had cried tears of happiness. Dad had read it over and over, his hands shaking. Emily
had screamed down the phone and then driven to their house to congratulate him in person,
and Gracie had given him a hug and said, "You'll be a really good spaceman."

She was six, and she didn't quite understand, but that was okay.

Dinner had been served, and when there was a natural lull in the conversation at the table,
Buck tapped his knife to his glass and then stood, pulling Dad up with him. "I'm gonna make
a speech," he announced, and there was an amused chuckle around the table. "Eddie was
supposed to make the speech but he decided this afternoon that he does not like public
speaking."

Dad was gripping Buck's hand in both of his, shaking his head with embarrassment.
Buck smiled at Dad, brushing a kiss to his temple, and then said, "Well, as you all know,
Christopher has done exactly what he said he was going to do right from the start and taken a
job with NASA."

There was a cheer – that was Denny, and Karen and Hen shushed him pointedly – followed
by laughter. Emily took his hand under the table and leaned against his shoulder, smiling at
him.

"And as his fathers, we couldn't be more proud of him," Buck continued. "He made a
decision when he was around thirteen that he wanted to get serious about science and
engineering and robotics, and so… he did what he always does when he puts his mind to
something, and put in the work. Eddie has been quietly terrified at some of the things he's
built in our house—"

"One of them did catch on fire," Chimney called, raising his glass at Christopher with a grin.
"It was hilarious. Your face! You thought you were gonna be grounded forever when we
turned up on your doorstep."

"In Christopher's defence," Harry spoke up, "I was the one who made him demonstrate its
capabilities and… am possibly the reason it caught on fire."

"You did kind of overload it," Christopher pointed out. "But you also put out the fire, so that
was quick thinking."

"We would've preferred it if you hadn't set the house on fire," Dad spoke up. "I really wasn't
happy about attending a fire at my own house, and you're lucky you only set fire to part of the
garage and not the actual house."

"It was five years ago – I think maybe we can move on," Buck said, squeezing Dad's
shoulder. "Anyway – my point is that Christopher is smart and capable and he's never let
anything stop him. We couldn't be more proud. We're a little worried that we might lose him
to Europe but we're confident he's going to come back."

Everyone laughed at that, but Dad raised his eyebrows and added, "I don't think you guys
understand how much he likes castles."

"You do like castles," Emily said, and nudged him with her elbow.

He grinned. "They're pretty cool."

"Don't worry, Eddie, Gracie and I are going to meet up with these two in Paris in a few
months and we'll be sure to remind him of everything he's missing here," Buck said, and then
held up his wine glass. "Christopher – I've long held the opinion that you are the greatest kid
who has ever lived."

"Amen to that," Carla called, raising her glass at Christopher affectionately.

He was grinning from ear-to-ear, sure his cheeks were bright red.
Buck beamed at him, and continued. "I feel very lucky and blessed to have met your Dad,
and then you, and that the both of you let me into your lives. We're both so proud of you for
everything you've accomplished and we know you're going to blow their socks off at NASA."

"Not literally," Dad added, pointing his glass at Christopher. "No fires."

He laughed, shaking his head. "No fires, I promise."

"The 118 does not service Pasadena so we will not be able to help you," Dad warned. "Just so
you know."

"I know, I know."

Everyone was chuckling, but when Buck held his glass up, they all raised their glasses as
well. "To Christopher," Buck announced, "and to his bright future at NASA."

"To Christopher," everyone echoed, clinking their glasses.

Christopher clinked his with Emily's, took a sip of champagne, and then had an idea. He rose
carefully to his feet, balancing on her shoulder, and said, "My turn, I guess."

"Yeah, you got this," Harry said from across the table, rocking back on his chair and holding
up his beer with a grin.

"Sit up straight," Athena warned, and he did as he was told in an instant, casting an
apologetic look at his mother. "And that better only be your second."

"It is, I swear."

Christopher waited for silence, gathering his thoughts, and then said, "Sometimes in my life I
have come up against people who try to talk to me out of following my dreams because of
my CP. Like it's something holding me back. And yeah, sometimes it is a challenge, but…
I'm lucky, because I have so many people who support me. My Dads told me a long time ago
that they would support me no matter what, and they always have. I try not to worry too
much about what other people think about my CP – it's none of their business. I try to just
focus on the things that make me happy and that interest me, and… that led me to robotics,
which led me to CalTech, which has now led me to NASA, and… who knows where from
there, but – whatever it is, I know it'll be exciting." He paused, smiling at Dad and Buck. "I'm
lucky to have you both in my corner. You've never doubted me or questioned whether or not I
was doing the right thing. You've both given me a lot of confidence. I had the best childhood
because of you both. I'm so lucky."

Dad sucked in a shuddering breath, a tear snaking down his cheek. He covered his face, and
Buck enfolded him into a hug, kissing his forehead reassuringly.

"So I just want to say thank you," he added, a little embarrassed that he'd made his Dad cry.
"And I love you both very much."

"We love you too, kiddo," Buck said, his voice hoarse. "So much. You're the best."
Christopher held up his glass and said, "To the two best Dads in the world."

"Hear, hear," Bobby said from the other side of the table, and Buck laughed.

Everyone had trickled out, and he and Emily were left with Dad and Buck, sitting together at
the end of the table. Gracie was curled up in Dad's lap, asleep, her head tucked under his
chin.

"So if you need anything while you're in Europe, just let us know," Buck said, for what had to
be the hundredth time. "We'll send you money if you run out, okay? Just don't feel like you
can't ask us."

"I know, I know," he complained. "Why do you think we're going to run out of money?"

"Because you're just like Buck, and you like souvenirs a little too much," Dad said dryly.

"I'll keep him in line, Mr Diaz," Emily promised.

Dad smiled at her. "You can call me Eddie. I'm going to be your father-in-law."

She blushed, and then said, "It just feels weird. You've always been Mr Diaz to me."

"Yeah but you call Buck 'Buck'," Dad pointed out.

"But that's Buck," Christopher said simply.

Buck grinned. "It's true," he said, one arm draped over Dad's shoulders. "Mr Diaz."

"Shut up, Mr Diaz," Dad retorted, and then looked over at Christopher again. "Listen… I
want you to have an amazing time, so I'm gonna try not to constantly text you to see how you
are, but if you could maybe… drop me a text every couple of days, or update Facebook, or…
I don't know, maybe once in a while give me a call, that would be cool too."

Buck smiled at Dad fondly. "You did that very casually and naturally and he's not going to be
able to tell that you've been agonising about this for weeks."

Christopher laughed. "Dad, of course I'm going to keep in touch," he reassured them. "And
you can call or text me whenever and I promise I'll answer."

"Unless it's the middle of the night," Emily said quickly. "In which case, no."

"That's fair," Buck agreed.

Dad shifted so his head was leaning against Buck's shoulder, and said, "I just want you to
have an amazing time and soak up all the history, okay? And come back safe."

"You're going to meet us in Paris, and then we're all going to Egypt together," Christopher
pointed out. "You can check up on me then."
"Yeah, I'm gonna." Dad paused, and then said in a low voice, "And Chris, please… no
tattoos, okay?"

Again with the no tattoos! "Dad, you have tattoos," Christopher groaned. "I could get one!"

Dad looked panicked, but Buck said, "You can get one."

"No!" Dad protested, and Buck laughed at him. "No, Chris. Come on! Please?"

"Mr Diaz, as I have promised you several times before," Emily spoke up, "I will not let him
get a tattoo."

Dad relaxed. "Thank you," he said to her, and then narrowed his eyes at Christopher. "Listen
to your fiancée."

"I always do," he replied, sharing an affectionate look with her. "But uh… are you guys
gonna be okay without me?"

Buck and Dad both scoffed at the same time. "We're grown men," Buck replied arrogantly.
"We'll be fine."

"Besides, we've got Gracie to keep us busy," Dad added, brushing her curly hair off her face.
"And you know what a handful she is."

"Yeah, I do. I'm gonna miss her." Christopher gazed at his father, and then said, "You think
Mom would be proud?"

Dad looked over at him with surprise, and then nodded. "I really do," he replied. "I was only
telling Buck the other day how thrilled she'd be at how you've turned out. She would've loved
to have seen you all grown up, about to head off across the world on an adventure… she'd be
so proud. We all are."

"But you never doubted me," Christopher said quietly. "Not once."

"Not ever," Dad agreed, his voice a little gruff. "Neither of us have."

"Other people do, but that's okay," Christopher said, sharing a smile with Emily. "I like to
prove people wrong."

"Yes, you do," she agreed, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Who are these people?" Buck asked, raising his eyebrows. "Just names and addresses."

They all laughed. Dad nudged Buck with his shoulder, grinning when Buck pressed a kiss to
his temple. "It's our job to protect you," he said to Christopher. "So just send us a text with
the names."

Christopher shook his head good-naturedly. "I hate to break it to you, Dad, but I'm an adult
now," he replied, and Dad tipped his head back, groaning. "I've got this."
 "Yeah, you do," Buck agreed, grinning at him.

Dad sighed. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "You do – but remember, in some of the countries they
drive on the left, okay? So you need to be careful—"

"Oh my god," Christopher groaned good-naturedly. "Dad! We're going to be fine!"

"And I showed you how to put on the snow chains," Buck added, pointing at him. "So if
you're going through snow, remember what I taught you, okay? As a matter of fact, if you
have to go through snow, just give me a quick call before you do and I'll run through
everything with you again."

"Buck, it's summer," Christopher replied gently. "We're not going through snow."

"It's Europe, it snows in the Swiss Alps – I'm just saying, if you need my help—"

"At this rate you're not going to let us get on the plane," Emily teased them.

"I might call in a bomb threat," Dad muttered. "Don't tempt me."

He laughed, Emily settling in next to him, and watched as Buck kissed the tension away from
Dad's face and calmed him down again. God, he loved them, but they would be okay without
him.

He was on an adventure, after all.

~the end~

Chapter End Notes

😊
Thanks everyone for reading along and commenting! I hope the last part was cathartic
for you.
End Notes

Huge thanks to Kat (cinematicnomad on Tumblr) for all of her help with this fic!

The title is from A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes from Cinderella

Talk to me @ Tumblr: woodchoc-magnum - my inbox is open!

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