#zainclaw

He vaguely remembered nodding in permission and watching Christopher shuffle closer to the fence with a strained outstretched hand. In truth, they could have been petting that alpaca for a minute or a decade, Buck’s mind was far away and yet so close.

It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last time, and unlike the feeling of casual comfort he got when people assumed he and Eddie were in a relationship, Buck’s heart ached with something he couldn’t quite put into words. There was something… something wrong with being called “dad” when Eddie wasn’t also around. When it was the three of them, they were being mistaken for a family but when it was just the two of them – when they were a single father and his son – something didn’t sit right.

He tried to remove the thoughts from his mind – he truly did. He would be at a scene, rescuing a child who was crying out for his father and successfully not thinking about Christopher. He would be at the store, picking up the boardgame he’d had his eye on for weeks, and smile when the cashier told him how much her own kid loved that game. He even survived game night with the Diaz boys and didn’t falter when Christopher asked him for help on his science project.

In fact, he managed to pick him up from school without incident a few weeks later, listening cheerfully as the kid recounted his day while they drove to the grocery store. Athena was hosting a party for… some reason (more and more, it felt as though the Grant-Nashs would host a party just because they could – not that Buck would turn down an opportunity to spend time with his friends) and he had it in his mind to make ambrosia salad as his hostess gift.

“All right, buddy, you are in charge of pushing the cart, think you can handle that?” Buck stored the boy’s crutches in the basket of the cart and let Christopher lead them down each aisle. It was a routine they’d built up over the years whenever Eddie asked him to “pick up a few things”. Christopher was the driver and Buck was the navigator. Eddie had made a joke about Buck’s driving skills once when he went with them and observed their routine, but there was also a grateful smile he secreted away for when Christopher wasn’t looking. They both knew the truth and it made Buck’s heart ache with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

They were standing amongst the semi-fresh fruits and vegetables, picking out the best-looking strawberries, when an elderly woman approached. Christopher stepped over to the section of grapes to compare prices (because Eddie was determined to teach his kid to be frugal even if it wasn’t nearly as fun as impulse-buying, in Buck’s opinion). The woman shuffled in beside the firefighter with a pleasant smile on her face.

“I remember when my own were that age. You couldn’t get them that enthusiastic for produce unless you bribed them with something. What did you promise him?”

Where it a year ago, he would have laughed it off. He would have divulged that there were popsicles waiting in the fridge at home – which was still true – and smile at the woman with a bit of pride in his chest, knowing that people would even assume that he was Christopher’s father.

Now, though? Now, the idea of laying claim to the name felt wrong. How did he explain that he wasn’t related? That he was only the boy’s caregiver in the event of his father’s death? That it made him breathless to think there might come a time when he’d have to make trips to the grocery store without Eddie waiting for him at home.

Home.

“I’m-I’m not…”

“Buck, what’s better for the salad: red or green?” Christopher called from a few sections down but his voice felt far away – as if in a distant memory.

“Oh, are you his step-father?” The old woman was still there, casually searching through the strawberries as though she hadn’t sent Buck across the stars to another day when the strawberry juice on his fingers was blood drying on his skin, and the one mumbling his name was a different Diaz.

“Buck?”

“Sorry, buddy.” The firefighter blinked and the memories were pushed to the back of his mind. “Let’s get the red grapes.” He turned towards the woman with the best polite smile he could convince his muscles to produce. “Have a good day.”

And then they were headed towards the check-out line.

And then they were loading the groceries into the back of the jeep.

And then they were on the road for the journey home.

Home.

“Hey Christopher, can I ask you something?” When the child grumbled something close to “what?”, Buck inhaled deeply. “Does anyone ever call me your dad? Like teachers or other adults?”

From the back seat, Buck could hear Christopher shuffling in his seat, contemplating the question.

“I think Mr. McPhail thinks you’re my dad. He said dad was coming to pick me up but you came instead.”

He remembered meeting the boy’s math teacher when he picked up Christopher a few months earlier. He’d shaken the man’s hand and answered questions about Mr. Diaz. He’d called him Mr. Buckley so he must not have confused him for Eddie. He just… assumed that they were both Christopher’s father.

The ache squeezed tighter.

“And, uh, what do you say when people say things like that?”

“I tell them you’re not my dad.” The squeeze folded his heart in half, like wringing a cloth. “I tell them you’re Buck.”

As though that simple four-letter word (barely even a name) could explain what they meant to one another. As if it could explain damp rag that was left of his heart.

“Are you… okay? With people accidentally thinking I’m your dad?”

Again, a moment of silence drew Buck’s eye to the rearview mirror where he watched the young boy – soon to be a young man – looking out the window before he answered.

“Yeah. Lots of people have two dads.”

Buck stared in the rearview mirror for so long that the driver behind him honked in annoyance. As he drove forward, Christopher’s words echoed in his chest until they wound around his aching heart. Somewhere in that answer was the word Buck had been struggling to find.

Home.

It wasn’t until hours later that Buck told Eddie about the incident at the grocery store. The actual details of the events which transpired between Buck and the nice old woman were lost to time, but the conclusion came busting out the moment Christopher was asleep in bed.

“I think we should get married.”

The plate in Eddie’s hand slipped into the sink with a thunk that seemed to match his stunned expression. Even Buck could admit he might have been too impulsive in his desire to talk to his friend. What else was he meant to do when the words have been rolling around in his chest for days – weeks – and had finally formed into something that was too big to be contained.

“You wanna run that by me again, Buck?”

The younger firefighter used a steadying breath to walk to his partner’s side, feigning a casual stance with his back against the kitchen counter; arms and ankles folded as though he weren’t preparing to bare his heart.

“I’ve just been thinking.” He confessed. “And I don’t want to be Christopher’s guardian.”

Eddie abandoned the last of his pretense to turned to completely face Buck. “What?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He cursed himself for not preparing any sort of speech when his next words held so much importance. “What I mean is… well… I don’t want you to die.”

“Me neither.” It didn’t help his confidence that Eddie was his usual sarcastic self while his eyes searched for the truth which Buck knew he couldn’t hide. He opened his mouth to stutter an explanation but Eddie held up his hand to silence him. “Take a breath, okay? Let’s sit down.”

Buck let himself be led to the kitchen table – the table where he’d had so many meals with the Diaz boys, where they made breakfast, and gingerbread houses, and ill-fated science experiments; each one of them a memory, he treasured.

“Okay.” Eddie stilled smirked at him once they were seated across from one another. “Do you want to try and tell me what’s going on? Because I don’t remember the two of us dating so this is a really awkward way to propose.”

“Sorry.” Buck ducked his head, clasping his hands over the table in a sort of prayer for guidance. Whatever words came out of his mouth next would hopefully save him. “Sometimes, people mistake the two of us for a couple. And I don’t really mind – it’s usually easier to go along with it, anyways. And sometimes when me and Christopher (or you, me, and Christopher) are out, people think we’re a family. And again, I don’t really mind.

“But people think I’m his dad, Eddie.” He confessed as though it were some shameful secret which, to his mind, it was. But his partner remained stoic as always. The only hint that he had heard him at all was the twitch of his jaw. “And I like it. I like that people think I’m his dad because he’s a great kid and I am so lucky to know him. There is a future where I get to be his guardian but in order for that to happen, you have to…die.” His voice trailed off and he lost some of the conviction that had led him to this conclusion – this absolutely insane conclusion. Still, he persisted. “And I really don’t want that. The idea of me and Christopher having to go on without you is…” There were no words. “So I figured, in order for me to be Christopher’s guardian without you dying is for the two of us to get married.”

At every turn, there was a voice in his head, warning him to stop. It told him that making this confession to Eddie was one step too far. He was asking for too much – wanting too much – and now that he’d crossed a line, their relationship would be changed forever.

That voice grew louder the longer Eddie stared silently at him from across the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“So…” When the man spoke after an infinity of silence, Buck could barely hear him for the ringing in his ears. “You want me to marry you so that you can call yourself my kid’s dad?”

Well, when he put it that way…

“Yeah, I’m just gonna let myself out.” He pushed himself to his feet but a hand over his own stopped him before he could make a clean getaway.

“Buck,” The amusement and pleading in Eddie’s eyes had him sitting down again. “Look, I appreciate the gesture. One of the reasons I put you in my will is because I know you will stop at nothing to make sure he’s taken care of. Including…marrying his dad.” An odd expression cross Eddie’s face then. Something sad and confused; uncomfortable. “But this isn’t the way. I don’t mind that you don’t correct people when they think you’re his dad. I get that it’s just easier and people are less likely to ask questions. And if that means that people think we’re a couple, that’s their business. I do wonder what Christopher thinks about all of thi-”

“He says he doesn’t mind having two dads.” Buck interjected – perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Well, that’s… good.” Once again, Eddie’s face morphed into something unreadable before softening. “My point is: we’re family, Buck; you, and me, and Christopher. I don’t know what labels you’d put on it but we are a family. And the way you feel about you and Christopher having to go on without me: we feel the same.”

Something passed between them in that moment; a conversation with only a piercing look that asked am I allowed to hope? Except, Buck wasn’t sure who was asking and he had no idea of the answer.

Eddie looked at him through hopeful eyes and asked “Are we good?” and all Buck could do was nod.

“But I really should get going.” He concluded, finally rising from his chair. The warmth on the top of his hand was missed immediately, his connection to Eddie so natural he’d forgotten it entirely. “Thanks for the talk.”

Eddie followed him to the door, hands in his front jean pockets as casually as possible given his future sleepless night. “Any time.” He assured the firefighter, and then, with a humorless chuckle, he added: “Besides, I learned a long time ago that getting married for the kids doesn’t end well.”

“We wouldn’t be getting married just for the kids.”

Whether he’d intended it or not, Buck’s answer – and his hopeful gaze – would keep Eddie up the rest of the night. In his mind, he’d imagine a future where he wore another ring on his finger and filled out the miles of paperwork and woke up engulfed in someone’s arms. With a slow smile curling his lips, Eddie mumbled: “I’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.” Before closing the door between them.