The Delacroix Dynasty (and other fun stuff)

Buck feels warmth flood his cheeks, but he's grinning as Eddie leans in to kiss him, soft and lingering despite the public setting. He tastes like summer and sweat and home.

"Ew!" Christopher's voice carries across the yard from the pool. "Get a room!"

"Ew!" Lulu immediately echoes from her spot at the water table, though she clearly has no idea what she's saying. "Ew, ew, ew!" The toddler returns to the serious business of transferring water from one container to another, sing-songing the new word. 

Buck and Eddie break apart, both laughing. Eddie calls back to Christopher, "It's our house, kid! You get a room!"

"Uncle Buck!" Jee-Yun voice floats over the chatter,  "Can we have popsicles?"

"After you eat something that's not sugar," Buck calls back, earning a dramatic groan from all of the kids.

He's just setting out a fresh bowl of chips when Maddie appears at his elbow with a beer and a stern expression.

"Sit," she says, pointing to one of the patio chairs. "Relax. Enjoy your kids' party."

"I am enjoying it," Buck protests, but he's already eyeing the condiment station, wondering if they need more ketchup. "I just want to make sure—"

"Buck." Maddie's voice is gentle but firm. "Everyone is having a good time. The food is perfect, the kids are happy, Christopher's friends think you and Eddie are the coolest parents ever. Sit down and let yourself enjoy this."

Buck looks around the yard, taking in the scene. Christopher and his friends are engaged in an intense pool volleyball match with Denny, their laughter echoing across the water while Hen referees from the side. Chimney is helping Robbie navigate the water table while somehow keeping his own clothes mostly dry. Karen has claimed a pool chair and is reading a book, occasionally looking up to offer encouragement to the swimming lessons happening at the shallow end. Lulu is squealing with delight as Jee-Yun helps her practice her kicks, her little pink life jacket making her look like a tiny astronaut.

"When did I become the hovering host?" Buck asks, settling into the chair Maddie indicated.

"About five minutes after you learned how to care about people," Maddie says dryly, taking the seat next to him. "It's one of your more endearing qualities. Also one of your more exhausting ones."

Buck takes a sip of his beer, feeling some of the tension he didn't realize he was carrying ease from his shoulders. "I just want everything to be perfect for them. Christopher's worked so hard for graduation, and Lulu... this is her first real birthday party where she'll actually remember some of it."

"And it is perfect," Maddie assures him. "Look around, Evan. Really look."

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, watching their families. Christopher and his friends laughing and smack talking about their water volleyball prowess. Robbie lying face-first in the grass, examining something with the intense focus only a five-year-old can muster. Jee-Yun and Lucía determined to kick all of the water out of the pool.

"I missed her first word," Buck says suddenly, the admission slipping out before he can stop it.

Maddie turns to look at him. "What?"

"Lulu. Her first word was 'more'—she said it to Eddie when he was feeding her breakfast about six months ago. I was in the shower." Buck's fingers worry at the label on his beer bottle. "I know it's stupid to be upset about it, but... I was so out of it for so much of her first year. What if I missed other things? Important things?"

Maddie is quiet for a long moment, and Buck can feel her studying his profile. When she speaks, her voice is gentle but firm.

"Buck, do you know when Jee-Yun first rolled over?"

Buck shakes his head.

"Neither do I," Maddie says. "I was on the other side of the country. Chim said it was at 5 months…and that she was reaching for a picture of me on the end table.”

Buck looks at her, surprised.

"I felt guilty about that for months," Maddie continues. "About all the things I felt like I missed or didn't do right because I was struggling. But you know what my therapist told me?"

"What?"

"That getting help, doing the work to get better—that was the most important thing I could do for my kids. Because it meant I could be present for everything else. All the words that came after the first one, all the steps and milestones and scraped knees and bedtime stories."

Buck watches as Lulu wraps her arms around Mara’s neck, laughing uproariously each time the older girl pretends to dunk her. She sees Buck and blows a kiss, her newest trick. 

"I see you, baby!" Buck calls back, waving. A tickle attack from Jee-Yun and the girls dissolve into giggles once more. 

Buck wonders how he got so lucky, with this tiny spotfire that’s a miniature version of his husband - a riot of thick brown curls and chocolate eyes and an easy smile. 

"She knows you're here now," Maddie says quietly. "That's what matters. And Buck—you've been here. Really here. I've watched you these past two years, and the way you love that little girl... She's lucky to have you."

Buck feels his throat tighten with emotion. "Some days I still worry that I'm going to slip back into that fog. That I'll let her down again."

"But you won't," Maddie says with certainty. "Because now you know what the warning signs look like. You have tools. You have support. And most importantly, you have the courage to ask for help when you need it."

"I used to worry I'd never be able to do this," Buck admits quietly. "Host parties, be present for the big moments. Remember when I could barely make it through a grocery store trip without having a panic attack?"

Maddie nods, her expression understanding. "I remember. But look at you now. You planned this whole party, you're managing a toddler and a teenager and all their friends, and you're not just surviving it—you're enjoying it."

"Most of the time," Buck says with a small laugh. "Though I did have a moment this morning when I couldn't find Lulu's birthday crown and thought the whole day was ruined."

"Where was it?"

"On her head. She'd been wearing it since she woke up."

Maddie dissolves into laughter. "Oh my god, you're such a dad."

Buck grins, surprised by how much he likes the way that sounds. Two years ago, he'd been terrified he'd never be able to be the father Lulu deserved. Now, being called "such a dad" feels like the highest compliment.

"Papí!" Lulu's voice carries across the yard, and Buck looks over to see her waving enthusiastically from Mara’s lap at the pool edge. "Look! Big splash!" “Good job! Mi pececita!” Eddie grins and salutes her with a greasy spatula. 

She proceeds to demonstrate her big splash technique, which involves mostly flailing and results in Jee-Yun getting thoroughly soaked. Both girls dissolve into giggles while Mara laughs and helps steady Lulu.

"She's going to be trouble," Maddie observes fondly.

"She already is," Buck says, but his voice is full of pride. "Yesterday she figured out how to open the childproof cabinet locks. I found her in the kitchen at six AM, surrounded by every Tupperware container we own."

"What did you do?"

"Took pictures and then taught her how to put them all back." Buck shrugs at Maddie's surprised expression. "She was so proud of herself. Besides, it's better to teach her to clean up her messes than to try to lock everything away forever."

Maddie studies his face for a moment. "You've really found your groove, haven't you?"

Buck considers this, watching as Eddie tests the burgers with his spatula, completely absorbed in his task. Across the yard, Hen catches his eye and gives him a warm smile—the kind that says she sees how far he's come and how proud she is of him.

"I think so. It took a while to trust myself again, but... yeah. I think I have."

"Ew!" Lulu continues cheerfully, having discovered a new word that gets big reactions from the adults.

"Great," Buck says, watching his daughter toddle around the yard chanting her new favorite word. "That's going to be fun to explain to daycare."

Eddie chuckles, turning back to flip the last of the burgers. "Could be worse. Remember when she learned to say 'oh shit' because I dropped a pan?"

"That was your fault," Buck points out. "And we're lucky she forgot about it."

"Give her time. I'm sure she'll remember it at the most embarrassing possible moment."

Buck leans against the patio table, content to watch Eddie work. The easy domesticity of it still sometimes catches him off guard—how natural it feels to be here, in their backyard, hosting a party for their kids, worrying about normal things like overheated husbands and toddlers learning inappropriate words.

"Food's almost ready," Eddie announces, starting to transfer burgers and hot dogs to a serving platter. "Should we round up the troops?"

Buck looks around the yard at their assembled family—Maddie and Chimney corralling the younger kids, Christopher and his friends reluctantly climbing out of the pool, everyone gravitating toward the smell of perfectly grilled food.

"Yeah," he says, feeling that familiar surge of contentment that comes with these moments. "Let's eat."

As Eddie carries the platter to the main table and everyone starts gathering around, chattering about food preferences and pool games and Christopher's college plans, Buck takes a moment to appreciate it all. The chaos, the laughter, the way Lulu immediately climbs into Eddie's lap and tries to steal his pickle, the way Christopher rolls his eyes but still makes sure his younger cousins get the best seats.

Just as everyone's settling in with their food, Buck hears car doors slamming in the driveway Seconds later, Bobby appears around the side of the house carrying what looks like a full aluminum tray, with Athena close behind holding a cooler.

"Sorry we're late," Bobby calls out. "Had to make a stop at the station to grab the mac and cheese I made yesterday."

"Bobby," Buck protests, "you didn't have to bring anything."

"Try telling him that," Athena says dryly, setting down the cooler. "He's been cooking for this party since Tuesday."

Bobby sets the tray on the table and immediately opens his arms as Lulu makes grabby hands at him from Eddie's lap. "There's my girl! Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Lulu squeals as he scoops her up, and Buck feels his heart do that little flip it always does when he sees how much they love each other. 

"How's our graduate?" Athena asks, pulling Christopher into a hug that he doesn't even pretend to resist. "Ready for USC?"

"Getting there," Christopher grins. "Still can't believe I actually got in."

"We can," Bobby says firmly, bouncing Lulu gently. "You worked hard for it."

The conversation flows easily as Bobby and Athena grab plates and join the organized chaos of family dinner. Buck watches from his spot at the table, marveling at how seamlessly they all fit together—Hen and Karen trading parenting stories with Maddie and Chimney, Christopher explaining his college plans to Bobby while his friends pepper them with questions, Athena somehow managing to referee a disagreement between Jee-Yun and Robbie about pool rules while also making sure everyone has enough to eat.

Two years ago, this scene would have been impossible for Buck to imagine—not because of the logistics, but because he couldn't picture himself being present enough to enjoy it. Now, watching his chosen family dig into their lunch, listening to Lulu's delighted giggles as Bobby makes funny faces at her while she sits on his lap, Buck knows he's exactly where he belongs.

"Grandpa," Lulu says suddenly, pointing toward the birthday cake on the side table. "Cake?" 

"Oh no," Buck starts, "you need to finish your—"

But Bobby is already standing up with Lulu in his arms, heading toward the cake table. "What kind of cake do you want, birthday girl? A big piece or a really big piece?"

"Really big!" Lulu announces, clapping her hands.

"Bobby," Eddie protests, laughing. "She hasn't finished her lunch."

Bobby whispers in Lulu’s ear, offering quiet instructions for a surefire strategy. The Diaz dads know they’re sunk when she gives them her best puppydog eyes. “Papí, p'ease?” Eddie shakes his head and takes a swig of beer; Lucía could ask for a Lamborghini right now and he would probably say yes. 

Bobby cuts a generous corner piece and settles back down with Lulu, handing her a fork. "This is what grandpas are for," he says with a wink at Buck and Eddie. "Spoiling grandkids and letting the parents deal with the sugar crash later."

Buck feels his throat tighten with emotion. Bobby calls himself Lulu's grandpa so naturally, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like this makeshift family they've built together is just as real and important as any biological connection.

"Total pushovers," Christopher teases affectionately, grinning at his fathers' complete capitulation to his little sister’s cake request.

"Ew!" Lulu adds helpfully through a mouthful of frosting, making everyone at the table laugh.

Buck shakes his head, grinning despite himself. His family might be ridiculous, loud, and completely lacking in impulse control when it comes to spoiling his daughter, but they're his. 

Buck’s therapist's advice served a different purpose now: Identify your surroundings. Feel your body. 

The press of Eddie’s lips on his shoulder, a gentle kiss through a sun-warmed t-shirt.Cheeks that hurt from laughing so hard. Stomach full and appetite satiated by Bobby’s cooking. A sticky handprint on his knee from where Lulu steadied herself while eating a popsicle.

Home. He is home, and safe, and loved. 

Buck turns his head to meet Eddie’s gaze, sharing one of those wordless conversations that happen after years of partnership. Eddie's expression is soft, understanding, full of the same overwhelming gratitude that Buck feels watching their children be so thoroughly loved by their extended family.

"You okay?" Maddie asks quietly, nudging his shoulder.

Buck looks around the table one more time—at Eddie laughing at something Athena said, at Lulu with frosting smeared on her face wiggling down from Bobby’s lap to run to her big brother, at Christopher and Denny plotting what appears to be an elaborate pool game involving multiple beach balls—and nods.

"Besides," Christopher adds, grinning up at Buck from where he's leaning on his crutches, "someone has to explain all the cool space stuff to Robbie. Dad tried yesterday and said Saturn was 'the one with the pretty rings.' It was embarrassing."

Eddie’s heart clenches, remembering when Chris had to crane his neck to look at them. Now he’s almost eye to eye, a lanky teen equally ready to bust his dads’ chops and be a role model for his cousins and sister. 

"Hey," Eddie protests, but he's smiling. "I know things about space."

"You know that space is big and dark," Buck says, and there's the faintest hint of teasing in his voice—the first Eddie's heard in months. "That's about it."

"See?" Christopher says triumphantly. "We need Buck. He knows everything about stars."

Buck's hand moves unconsciously to stroke Lulu's head through her soft pink hat, a gesture so natural Eddie's not sure Buck even realizes he's doing it. The baby makes a small sound of contentment, and Buck holds her that tiny bit closer. .

"Okay," Buck says quietly. "Okay, let's go look at some stars."

Inside the observatory, both Jee-Yun and Robbie are immediately captivated by everything—the pendulum, the exhibits, the massive telescope pointed toward the sky. Jee-Yun asks thoughtful questions about how the telescope works, while three-year-old Robbie bounces from display to display with endless energy. But it's when they enter the planetarium dome that Robbie really comes alive, his curiosity overflowing as the lights dim and the artificial night sky spreads out above them.

"Uncle Buck," Robbie says in his loudest whisper, scrambling to sit beside Buck on the curved bench while Jee-Yun settles nearby with Maddie. "Why are the stars so bright?"

Buck glances around, clearly torn between his instinct to engage and his fear of drawing attention to himself. Eddie watches from Lucía's other side, ready to step in if Buck needs him to, but hoping desperately that he won't have to. Buck winces as the laughter of a nearby Girl Scout group echoes and amplifies within the dome, but he takes a shaky breath and leans closer to Robbie. 

"Well," Buck says slowly, his voice barely audible over the narrator's introduction, "there are actually a lot of reasons. Some stars are just bigger and hotter, so they shine brighter. But some stars that look dim are actually really bright—they're just really, really far away. Like... imagine a flashlight that's right next to you versus one that's across a football field."

Robbie's eyes widen. "Far ‘way?"

"The closest one—that's Proxima Centauri—is about four and a half light years away. That means if you could travel at the speed of light, it would take you four and a half years to get there."

Robbie stares at his hand, trying to figure out how many fingers is four, completely enthralled.

And just like that, Buck is off. His voice gains strength as he explains light years and stellar classification, red giants and white dwarfs, the way binary stars dance around each other in an endless cosmic waltz. His hands move as he talks, careful not to jostle Lucía but animated in a way Eddie hasn't seen in months.

"And see that really bright one there?" Buck points toward the artificial constellation above them. "That's actually not a star at all. That's Venus. People used to call it the morning star or the evening star, but it's really a planet. It's covered in thick clouds that trap heat, so it's actually hotter than Mercury even though it's farther from the sun."

"How hot?" Jee asks, practically crawling across Maddie where she’s apparently been listening the whole time.

"About 900 degrees Fahrenheit. Hot enough to melt lead."

"Wow," Robbie breathes, awed despite having no concept of thermodynamics. "Uncle Buck…" Robbie cuddles into Buck’s side, distractedly poking at Lulu’s tiny sock-clad foot. There is no follow up question. In his toddler way, Robbie just wants to acknowledge his Uncle Buck, warm and solid and one of his favorite people in the world. Buck’s free arm slips around the boy’s slight shoulders, cuddling him close. 

Buck’s eyes move into the middle distance as memories come back to him of a time he wished for someone he could trust that much, his hand unconsciously moving to stroke Lucía's head again. She's been perfectly content throughout his impromptu astronomy lesson, her small fingers gripping his shirt as she dozes against his chest.

"I... I used to read a lot," Buck says quietly. "When I was little, and scared, I would look up at the stars and wonder about them. It made me feel less alone, I guess. Like I was part of something bigger."

Eddie feels his throat tighten. He reaches over, his fingers smoothing the hair at the nape of Buck’s neck, a silent reminder that he's not alone now. His wrist grazes over the mating bite they exchanged on their wedding night, and Buck unconsciously leans into the touch, asking to be scented like a flower reaching towards the sun. 

The spell is almost broken when a family arrives late and squeezes down the aisle to find seats, tripping and jostling and bickering. Buck tries to turn his long legs to the side and move the diaper bag and steady a suddenly wiggly Lulu. When she whimpers from the momentary disruption his anxiety starts to spike. Buck tries to follow his therapist’s advice; identify your surroundings, get oxygen to your brain, feel your body. 

Deep breaths. Feel Robbie’s solid weight on his right side. Hear Chim cracking puns about space. See the colorful planetarium projections reflected in Christopher’s glasses. Smell the sweet warmth of his perfect baby girl. 

That last one does the trick. Eddie got her dressed this morning and his Mexican chocolate scent has mixed with her baby milk scent, reminding Buck of a silky hot chocolate the exact color of her eyes. 

"Uncle Buck," Jee-Yun says solemnly. "Will you teach me more stuff about stars?"

"Me too!" Robbie pipes up. "Pretty stars too, Uncle Buck."

"Yeah," Buck says, hoarsely, then clears his throat. On the second try his voice is stronger, more certain. "Yeah, I'd like that. Both of you."

The presentation continues around them, but Eddie finds himself watching Buck instead of the artificial sky. His mate's eyes are fixed on the swirling galaxies above, and for the first time in months, they're bright. Not just awake, not just going through the motions, but genuinely engaged. Alive.

Sparkling like the stars themselves.

Buck's hand continues its gentle, unconscious caressing of Lulu's head, and Eddie realizes that this—this quiet moment of wonder and connection—is what healing looks like. Not a dramatic return to who Buck used to be, but a slow remembering of who he still is underneath the exhaustion and fear.

"Dad, look," Christopher whispers, tugging on Eddie's sleeve. "Look at Buck's face."

Eddie looks, and his heart swells with something too big for words. Buck is smiling—really smiling—as he points out the Andromeda Galaxy to a fascinated Robbie. Lulu stirs slightly in her carrier, and Buck immediately adjusts his position to make her more comfortable, never breaking stride in his explanation of how galaxies are formed.

"He's better" Christopher says softly, his voice full of quiet confidence. Eddie pats Christopher’s shoulder, taking comfort in his son’s surety. “Getting there, bud. Getting there.”

Maddie catches Eddie's eye from across the row and smiles, tears shining in her eyes. She can see it too; the spark returning to her brother's face, the way he's holding Lucía like she belongs there, like he belongs here, with all of them.

As the presentation winds down and the lights slowly come up, Buck is still talking to both younger kids about constellations and meteor showers, his voice animated and warm. Jee-Yun has been asking increasingly sophisticated questions about gravity and planetary orbits, while Robbie points excitedly at different parts of the ceiling. Lulu has woken up and is gazing up at her Omega parent, completely content to listen to his voice, the same one she heard from the inside for 40 weeks and 3 days. 

"Thank you," Buck says quietly to Maddie as they gather their things, Jee-Yun now walking hand-in-hand with her mom while Chimney scoops up a sleepy Robbie. "For pushing me to come. I... I forgot how much I loved this stuff."

"You didn't forget," Maddie says, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “It just seemed out of reach.” 

Outside, as they walk back to their cars, all the kids continue to inquire about galaxies far, far away. Jee-Yun asks thoughtful questions about black holes while Robbie drowsily chatters about wanting to be an astronaut. Buck answers with patience and enthusiasm, occasionally crouching down to their level to show them how to spot the real stars just beginning to appear. Eddie watches his mate explain the difference between meteors and meteorites while unconsciously swaying slightly to keep Lulu calm, and he feels something settle in his chest that's been tight and worried for months.

This is what coming back looks like. Not all at once, not perfectly, but in moments like this: under artificial stars that somehow manage to remind Buck of real wonder, with family who love him whether he's shining bright or barely flickering, with a daughter sleeping peacefully against his heart.

"The fire's coming back," Eddie murmurs to Christopher as they walk.

Christopher grins up at him. "It never really left.."

And as Buck laughs at something Robbie says—actually laughs, bright and genuine—Eddie knows his son is right. The fire never left. It just needed the right moment, the right constellation of love and wonder and belonging, to remember how to burn bright again.

Attention still on the children, Buck slides his hand into Eddie's for the remaining walk to the car, easy as a reflex. It's all Eddie can do not to stop in his tracks and stare in wonder at this man who has become the center of his world, the sun around which everything revolves . Eddie lifts their entwined fingers and presses a kiss to the back of Buck’s hand, earning a shy smile before they have to separate again for the business of infant car seats and two hands on the steering wheel. 

Buck steals looks at his husband driving, and Eddie can hear the thoughts through their bond as clearly as if Buck had said them aloud.  I’m glad we belong to each other. 

They drive home under the real stars that are just beginning to appear in the darkening sky, the low hum of music and chatter filling the inside of the Jeep. Eddie can’t keep the smile off of his face as he unlocks the front door of the house for his family, juggling keys and baby carrier and canes and bags of takeout.

Buck doesn't initiate contact anymore. Doesn't reach for Eddie first thing in the morning or steal kisses while they're making coffee. Doesn't hum while he folds laundry or make terrible jokes during late-night feedings. He responds when Eddie touches him—leans into embraces, allows himself to be pulled close on the couch while they watch Christopher's favorite nature documentaries—but there's a distance there, like Buck is watching his own life through glass.

Eddie can feel it in their bond, the way Buck's presence has become muted, careful. Like he's afraid that taking up too much space, feeling too much, wanting too much, will somehow break the fragile peace they've built. The invisible thread between them that used to pulse with waves of energy and passion was pulled taut, strained but still unbreakable. 

It's been three weeks since that night in the hallway, and Eddie is starting to understand that this healing thing isn't linear. That some days Buck will smile at Lucía's tiny grasping fingers, and other days he'll stare at her like he's not sure he's allowed to love her as much as he does.

Today is one of the hard days.

Eddie can tell from the moment Buck gets out of bed—moving like his bones are made of lead, his scent flat and colorless. Lucía is fussy, overtired from a growth spurt that has her eating every hour, and Buck handles it all with that same mechanical gentleness that makes Eddie's chest ache. 

Maddie calls, offering to come over for a walk around the block, something easy. The fact that Eddie asked Chimney for advice while they were on shift two days ago is probably just a coincidence. Buck declines; the air in the house is stale but thick with the combined scents of their family. Outside feels too big. 

In the quiet hours after lunch, Eddie finds Buck standing at the kitchen sink, staring out the window at nothing. He's been washing the same plate for five minutes.

"Buck, honey" Eddie says softly, approaching carefully. "Hey."

Buck startles, nearly dropping the plate. "Sorry, I was just—"

"Sweetheart, when's the last time you slept? Really slept?"

Buck's laugh is hollow. "Sleep is overrated. She needs me every two hours anyway."

Eddie has offered over and over to take the overnight feedings, to have Pepa come help for a few hours during the day, but Buck refuses, muttering about nipple confusion, parroting the books and videos he practically inhaled from the moment he peed on the stick. But Eddie knows, he knows it’s Buck wanting reassurance that Lucia needs him in some real and concrete way. 

"You need rest."

"I'm fine," Buck says automatically, turning back to the dishes that are already clean.

Eddie watches him for a moment, this omega he loves more than breathing, who's slowly disappearing right in front of him. The urge to fix this, to make it better, is overwhelming.

"Buck, maybe we should think about... maybe you should talk to someone. A professional."

Buck's hands still on the plate. "What?"

"Dr. Martinez mentioned postpartum therapy options," Eddie continues carefully. "Just someone to talk through—"

“I said I’m fine”  Bucks voice takes on a sharpness, and maybe…fear? His hands tighten on the plate, knuckles turning white. 

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” 

"You think I'm broken. Damaged. Not fit to take care of my own daughter." Buck takes a shuddering breath, his voice cracking despite best efforts to stay calm.

"Buck, no." Eddie steps closer, alarm bells ringing in his head. "That's not what I'm saying at all."

Buck finally turns around, and the look in his eyes makes Eddie's alpha instincts scream with the need to comfort, to protect. But there's something cold there too, something defensive and hurt.

"Then what are you saying, Eddie? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're saying I'm such a mess that I need professional help to figure out how to be a mother."

A flare of frustration rises up, blazing away Eddie’s plan for a gentle approach. “"I'm saying it's killing me to watch you hurt like this, and I don't know what else to do!"

The words hang between them, raw and honest, and for a moment Eddie thinks he might have gotten through. But then Buck's stare turns hot, angry, sharp. For the first time in weeks he looks alive. 

"Oh, I see," Buck says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This isn't about me at all, is it? This is about you. Poor Eddie, having to deal with his broken omega. Too bad my feelings are inconvenient for you." 

The words hit Eddie like a physical blow. "That's not—Buck, that's not what I meant."

Mierda! I wanted him back, but not like this. 

"Isn't it?" Buck's voice is getting louder, sharper. "Because it sounds like my feelings are making your life difficult. Like watching me struggle is just too hard for you to handle."  A sharp movement touchdown spikes the world's cleanest plate into the sink, Eddie reflexively flinching at the sound of ceramic shattering against steel while Buck ignores the ping ping of shrapnel on his shirt. 

"Stop," Eddie says, his own voice cracking. "Please, you know that's not—"

"Do I?" Buck laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Because all I hear is that I'm failing so spectacularly at being a parent that it's affecting your quality of life. Well, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry that loving our daughter is so hard for me. I'm sorry that I can't just bounce back and be the omega you fell in love with. I'm sorry I'm such a fucking disappointment."

"You're not a disappointment," Eddie pleads. "Buck, you're not—"

But Buck is already walking away, heading for the stairs, leaving Eddie standing alone in the kitchen with his heart breaking and no idea how to fix what he's just made worse.

The silence lasts until Eddie leaves for a 24. For the first time in three years he leaves for work without a kiss, and spends the next day rotating between checking his phone and taking frustrations out on the sandbag.

There would have been a time that Eddie forced the issue. The old him only knew three ways to resolve conflict: fight, fuck, or flee. But loving Buck means learning a new way, because Buck deserves better, because his best days have been since they became a family. 

When Eddie comes home, dog tired and nerves raw, the air is still thick with unresolved tension. 

He tries again. He greets the kids, starts a load of laundry, checks the kitchen for dinner ingredients. 

Buck just spent the last 24 hours keeping a tiny person alive and looks dead on his feet. "Why don't you take a shower?" Eddie suggests after Lucía finally settles into a deeper sleep in her bassinet. "I'll watch her. You've got maybe an hour before she's up again." His voice is careful, neutral, but Buck can hear the worry underneath it.

Buck nods without really looking at him. "Okay. Thanks."

The word is polite, distant, and Eddie has to bite back the urge to say don't thank me for being your partner, for loving you, for wanting to take care of you.

Buck disappears upstairs, and Eddie settles into the rocking chair beside Lucía's bassinet, watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest. She has Buck's mouth, he realizes—that soft curve that makes her look like she's always on the verge of smiling. People have always commented on how much Christopher looks like Buck, and now Lulu's dark hair is already starting to show hints of soft curls. He imagines who she will be in a year, a riot of dark ringlets and mischief in her big brown eyes. The thought makes his heart squeeze with love and worry in equal measure. 

Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. Then forty-five.

Eddie knows Buck's shower routine by heart—knows it takes him exactly eight minutes to wash his hair and another twelve to condition it, that he always spends too long just standing under the hot water like he's trying to wash away more than just the physical exhaustion of new parenthood or a tough shift.

Eddie closes his eyes, waiting to sense through their bond Buck’s tension easing, sloughed off with steam and suds. But relief never comes. 

Eddie climbs the stairs quietly, pausing outside the bathroom door. The water is still running, has been running for almost an hour now, and there's something about the silence underneath the sound of the shower that makes Eddie's alpha instincts flare with alarm.

He knocks softly. "Buck? You okay in there?"

No answer.

Eddie tries the handle, finds it unlocked, and steps inside. The air is thick with steam, mirror fogged over, and through the glass shower door he can see Buck's silhouette—sitting on the shower floor, knees drawn up, letting the water pour over him like rain.

And Eddie can hear it now, underneath the sound of the water. The soft, broken sounds of Buck crying—really crying, not the careful tears he allows himself when he thinks Eddie isn't looking, but the kind of sobs that come from somewhere deep and wounded and desperate.

Eddie doesn't hesitate. He wrenches open the shower door and steps inside, ignoring the water seeping through his clothes, plastering cotton and denim to his body. 

Buck doesn't look up, doesn't even seem to notice Eddie stepping into the spray. His shoulders shake with the force of his tears, and his hands are pressed over his face like he's trying to hold himself together through sheer will.

"Buck," Eddie says softly, his voice nearly lost in the sound of water hitting tile.

Buck's breath hitches. "I'm sorry," he gasps, the words coming out broken and raw. "I'm sorry, I know I'm taking too long, I know you need me to—"

"No," Eddie says firmly, dropping to his knees on the shower floor. "No, cariño. You don't need to apologize."

He reaches out slowly, his hands finding Buck's wrists, gently pulling his hands away from his face. Buck's eyes are red-rimmed, devastated, and Eddie feels something crack open in his chest at the sight.

"I can't do this," Buck whispers, his voice breaking on every word. "Eddie, I can't. I look at her and I love her so much it hurts, but I can't... I don’t know how to be enough."

Eddie pulls Buck against him, wrapping his arms around his mate's shaking form. Buck collapses into the embrace like he's been holding himself upright through pure force of will, and Eddie holds him tighter as Buck's sobs intensify.

"You're enough." Eddie whispers against Buck's temple, his own tears mixing with the shower spray. "You're everything."

Buck shakes his head against Eddie's shoulder. "I used to be able to make Christopher laugh. I used to talk to her when she was in my belly, and now I can't even... I can't…” Buck’s head drops, unable to find the words. 

Eddie's heart breaks a little more with each word. He shifts, pulling Buck closer, until they're both sitting on the shower floor, Buck cradled between Eddie's legs, the warm water washing over them both.

"Tell me," Eddie says quietly. "Tell me what it feels like."

Buck is quiet for a long moment, his breathing gradually slowing against Eddie's chest. When he speaks, his voice is small, vulnerable.

"Empty," he whispers. "Like someone scooped out everything that made me me and left just... this shell. And I keep trying to fill it back up, but nothing fits right anymore. The things that used to make me happy just... don't. And I'm so tired, Eddie. I'm so fucking tired of pretending that I'm okay when I feel like I'm drowning."

Eddie presses his lips to the crown of Buck's head, tasting chlorine from the water and something uniquely Buck underneath it all.

"So stop pretending," Eddie says softly. "Stop performing for us. We love you, Buck. Not the version of you that has it all figured out, not the version that never struggles. We love you. Messy, hurting, healing you."

Buck lets out a shuddering breath. "What if I can't come back from this? What if this is just who I am now?"

"Then we figure it out," Eddie says, the same words he's been saying for weeks, but meaning them more deeply each time. "Please, my amor, let me love you through it. But Ev... you don't have to carry this alone. You don't have to hide in the shower to cry. You don't have to pretend you're okay when you're not."

They sit like that for a long time, the water gradually cooling around them, Buck's tears finally slowing to hiccups and then to quiet breathing. Eddie's alpha pheromones fill the small space, the darkest Mexican chocolate, warm and rich with hints of sweet and spice. Slowly—so slowly—Buck begins to relax in his arms.

Eddie is love. Eddie is home. We are safe. 

"I'm scared," Buck admits finally, his voice barely audible over the water.

"I know," Eddie whispers back. "I'm scared too. But we can be scared together. I promised i’d always have your back.” When they finally emerge from the shower, Eddie wraps Buck in the softest towel they own, drying his hair with gentle fingers. Buck lets himself be cared for, lets his husband help him into clean clothes, lets himself be led back to their bedroom where Lulu is just beginning to stir.

And when Buck settles into the rocking chair to feed her, there's something different in his posture. Not fixed, not healed, but honest. Present. Real.