Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Yeah." 

Christopher Diaz knew he had monumentally messed up the moment the word left his lips. He had been walking through his school's doors, relieved the day was finally over as much as he was dreading the homework, when he spotted his dad and Buck waiting in the usual pickup area. They were sitting side by side on the hood of his father's truck. 

Chris's friend, Dylan, had asked if they were his parents, to which he had said "Yeah" without thinking twice. 

This would have been perfectly fine, had his dads actually been his dads. It would've been simpler than having to explain repeatedly that Evan Buckley was actually his dad's friend and nothing more. Which was hard for him to explain when he hardly believed the notion himself, despite his dad correcting teachers when they assumed this at parent-teacher conferences. Chris's favorite part was when Buck and his dad corrected them, then the teachers glanced at Christopher like he knew the inside scoop. 

"Uh," He quickly corrected himself, "Buck is like a dad, but they aren't together." 

Dylan quirked a brow, eyeing the two men seated on the truck. Eddie was waving while Buck went to slide off the hood. As he leaned forward, Eddie grabbed Buck's arm and said something Chris couldn't hear this far away. Most likely giving Chris a minute to say goodbye to his friend. 

At the simple gesture Chris gave his dad an appreciative smile as Dylan skeptically asked, "They're not? Is this a fragile topic? Because I'm not homophobic or anything--love is love, man--"

"No. I'm serious." Chris interjected, failing to hide his smirk as he saw Buck's attention return to Eddie as he said something. "If they are then I don't know about it." 

Dylan glanced at them again, and Chris was eternally grateful Eddie was too focused on whatever Buck was saying. "Really? Like, this isn't a joke?" 

Chris, having had this conversation a hundred times over through elementary and middle school, sighed, "No. You just got punked. This is all staged just for you." Dylan's gaze dropped to his boots as Chris continued, "If you keep staring, they're gonna ask about you." 

Dylan's head snapped up, "Shoot, alright! How long have they known each other? Because that?" He gestured to the two, and Chris felt the familiar wave of exasperation seeing them talk, barely a foot apart. "That isn't some close 'BFF' shit." 

Chris shrugged, "I dunno." mentally doing the math, he announced, "about eight years. Why?" 

Dylan swore under his breath, glancing yet again and making Chris want to forcibly turn his gawking friend away. "Have you tipped this to them? Because..." He gestured, losing the nonexistent conspicuous behavior he had originally. 

Chris asked in amusement, "What has you so obsessed with this anyway? Anytime Valentine's Day comes up with heart banners you're complaining it is a holiday built for consumerism, but seeing them share one look has you invested like a 13 year old that just discovered Wattpad."

Dylan propped his hands on his hips. "I thought people were crazy or trying to push something that didn't exist when they mention your dads--or whatever," He said defensively when Chris opened his mouth to correct him, "But that is some serious stuff, bro. Your dad has freaking cartoon heart eyes!"

Christ, the most mentioned thing about his father has resurfaced. Chris couldn't fight off the allegations on that, especially at this moment with his dad's current expression. Given how long Buck was Google surfing on the couch last night, Eddie could be getting a full lecture on a variety of topics in great detail. Chris kind of wanted to see what insane hyperfixation had possessed him now. 

His attention was brought back to the present as Dylan ranted, "And whoever the hell the blonde dude is keeps subtly bumping his knee against his--straight behavior? I think not!" 

At the observation Chris glanced behind Dylan to see Buck's leg was dangling over the hood's edge and bumping against Eddie's.

Well played, Buckley. Well played. 

"Buck fidgets like that all the time though." Chris said, not protesting, but informing. 

Dylan shook his head ruefully, "Dude--"

"No, I know." Chris conceded, his tone growing weary. "Imagine living with that."

Dylan gasped, "They live together?!"

"Not officially..." Chris frowned, trying to think of how to explain his dads' complicated relationship once more. Even with years of practice he never knew how to fully explain it. "Sometimes Buck crashes on the couch." 

A lot of times, actually. Chris had gotten used to finding Buck face down on the sofa more mornings than not, while Eddie started the coffee machine. If anything, it was to not have both of them under the same roof, on the rare evenings Buck went back to his apartment. However, he couldn't tell Dylan this because that would start a new torrent of questions he didn't want to answer after getting out of a frustrating math class, which had whittled his patience to be paper thin. 

Dylan smiled wryly, like he had found treasured gold. Dylan was always like that. He found something to hyper fixate on for a few months, then moved to the next hobby, TV franchise, or book series. In this case, Chris had a bad feeling it would be his parents-not parents. 

Glancing behind Dylan again, Chris sent SOS eyes to his father, praying he would notice to spare him more explaining. Eddie's gaze miraculously found his, and he made a circular motion with his hands. The only other time Chris felt this much relief was when he survived the tsunami. It was a silent, miraculous, "Wrap it up"

Taking this token while he had it, Chris cashed it in, offered a goodbye, and made his way to the truck. Ignoring the feeling of Dylan's eyes boring into his back, he smiled in acknowledgement to his Dad, then Buck.

"Hey, Chris." His dad said while Buck took his book bag. "Friend of yours?" 

Chris, for the sake of his sanity, chose to not look behind him where he knew Dylan was still standing. "Yeah. He's cool."

A car horn sounded, likely Dylan's mom, and he heard the scuffle of sneakers against pavement behind him, much to his relief. 

Eddie's eyes trailed further behind him, confirming Chris's suspicions as he asked, "So, anything happen at work today?" 

Buck was tossing his book bag in the back seat, but the question caused him to peek around the open truck door in excitement. 

Meanwhile, his dad just nodded, "The usual stuff."

As first responders, Chris knew they dealt with heavy situations that could be fragile topics. He was used to Eddie's response. But sometimes, the most unbelievable stories were passed around, like a woman who had a meteorite make a hole through her torso--and she survived. Unbelievable stories like that are exactly what kept him asking, unless his dad had a visibly rough day. 

Thankfully, it seemed like today hadn't taken a toll on either of them. 

Chris hated those days when his dad was extra quiet after a shift. He tried to hide it, but Chris knew those nights where they both watched a movie to 'unwind', his dad's mind was replaying whatever events happened that day that he couldn't share. A dead giveaway was typically his dad staring past the TV screen, his mind focused on anything but the screen in front of them. 

Buck challenged, "I wouldn't say a man wearing a moldy pumpkin as a helmet qualifies as 'the usual'."

Now that pulled Chris from his thoughts once more. "Wait. What?" 

During the drive home, Chris listened curiously as his dads explained how this had went down. They took a detour to get fast food, which led the conversation to an argument on which place was the best to eat fast food from. Finally, they settled (Chris and Buck won) on McDonald's meals (Eddie accused them of having terrible taste). Silence descended upon the vehicle as the smell of freshly roasted burgers and fries wafted to the backseat. 

When they got home, they quickly ate dinner while Chris gave his dads' a recap of his day and the homework assignments due. Once he ate the last fry on his plate, he begrudgingly tossed his trash out and excused himself to get homework started. As he seated himself at his desk, he heard muffled sounds of the television and his dads' mumbled conversation playing through his closed bedroom door. 

The background noise was comforting as he opened his laptop and moved the mouse towards his school website he had bookmarked. He lifted his finger over the mouse, preparing to click a tab while silently cursing his teacher for last minute homework when his phone pinged. Rushing to silence it, he checked the notification and frowned. Apparently Dylan had posted something on Tik Tok. 

The logical thing to do was put down the phone and start his homework. He was responsible like that. But after eight hours of draining classes...Chris shut the laptop, swiped on his phone screen, and opened the app. 

It was a harmless distraction. A ten minute break, tops. 

Two hours of doom scrolling later proved the internet was a cursed thing. Chris swiped a cat meme away and prepared to shut down the screen when he froze, his thumb hovering over the phone's off button. 

He had to have fallen asleep. He was dreaming this. 

The giant bold words that read Buddie fic recommendations! over a picture of his dads waiting by the truck for school pickups could not be real.

And what was Buddie?

Swiping through, he frowned at the endless titles and brief scenes to advertise...FanFiction?

Squinting at one of the tags, he gaped. These weren't simple stories of firefighters being heroic. These were...romantic. 

Cringing at certain tags and swiping past them, he realized this was more than that. 

This post alone had thirty slides of fanfiction recommendations about his dads-shoot! He meant Buck and his Dad. There was a difference. Even if he quietly wished there wasn't. 

Not the point! His thoughts bellowed, causing him to steer back onto the topic. Opening the comment section, he clapped a hand over his mouth to realize people were commenting on fanfictions they enjoyed. 

The hell? 

Who are these people? How many were in on this? Most importantly, why did they care in the first place?

It was one thing to muse they should date, but these stories? His eyebrows rose at a fic that had 32 chapters, and a question mark indicating the author was still writing the rest. 

What did they have to say about his dads that was so important it lasted thirty two chapters?!

His internal panic subsided when he spotted a fic with a "Tommy Bashing" tag. He chuckled a bit on that one,  then quieted before his dads came to check on him.  

He didn't know how to explain this, or even comprehend it himself. 

Giving up the idea of completing his homework, he kept scrolling through the comments. 

One read "Off to A03 I go!" 

What is A03?

Swiping out of the app, but keeping it available to reopen, he typed in A03. To his surprise, he was led to a website labelled: Archive of Our Own. 

Typing in one of the titles, he was surprised to find one thousand five hundred results, all fictional stories about his dads. Did this qualify as cyber stalking? Cyber obsession? This had to qualify as something illegal. How can people write fanfiction about real people for a website created for fans of fictional tales? He sat for a moment, merely staring at the screen and processing this when a knock sounded at his door. 

Chris jumped so much that his phone slipped from his hands, tumbling to the floor. Swearing words that'd ground him for life, he called as he snatched it, "Come in!"

Eddie cracked the door open and peeped in, "Hey," Chris swallowed hard, discreetly slipping his phone beside him. When had the TV turned off? 

Before he could muse any further, his dad continued, "It's almost midnight." 

Glancing from his laptop back at Chris, he asked, "Homework almost done?" 

Heat filled his face at the thought of the homework pile sitting undone. Well, he had two days, he could do it in home room. 

"Yeah. I'll finish it off tomorrow."He lied, faking a yawn. "Where's Buck?" 

With a soft smile and a glance down the hall, he whispered, "Passed out on the couch thirty minutes into the movie." 

Chris groaned, "What a loser."

They chuckled quietly. 

Glancing at his watch, his dad whispered, "Alright, lights out. It's a school night and we're probably going to stay out late at Bobby and Athena's tomorrow anyhow." 

Chris, his mind already on his recent discovery, simply nodded and reached for his bedside lamp. His bedroom door clicked shut again as Chris turned the knob on his lamp. Another soft click had his room enveloped in darkness, dim moonlight slipping through the cracks of his blinds to provide some light. 

Sinking into his mattress, he stared at the ceiling and listened to his father's footsteps padding to his own bedroom. 

How had the world become so invested in his parents--shoot! His dad and Buck that they wrote this many stories? 

The numbers flashed behind his eyes. 

One thousand five hundred. 

And that was just the first slide. If he pressed refresh he'd probably find a whole new number of stories to read--not that he would. 

Sure, he had definitely watched them have their moments, like "Do you wanna go for the title?" had him fully expecting them to announce they were dating and Buck was yet another one of his dad's newest relationships. 

And Chris would've been completely ok with this.

Thrilled even. 

So thrilled that he wouldn't make fun of them for having that interaction when he was far too young to witness that type of stuff. 

But they didn't. 

So Chris watched over the years as they alternated between who got the week's groceries, picked him up from school, or dropped him off at a friend's house. Throughout elementary and middle school he had repeated the same words robotically while hoping they weren't true. "No, Buck isn't my dad. Yes. He is just a family friend. No, I promise they aren't actually dating." 

He hated those words as much as he hated Buck going back to his own apartment or announcing he was dating someone else again. They felt like burning lies, because of course Buck felt like a dad. Even before he pulled him onto that firetruck in the tsunami flood. 

Sometimes, Chris accidentally called him that aloud. The first time was when he was eight. 

He'd never forget how Buck had inhaled sharply and glanced at Eddie as if he had committed an unspeakable crime. Chris had held his breath, an apology on the tip of his tongue when his dad just smiled contentedly and flipped to the next page of the book he was reading. 

Sometimes Chris still slipped, but he tried hard not to Incase it made Buck uncomfortable. 

Maybe it did, because Buck's eyes always widened at the word, and his breathing slowed for a beat. Which was insane because such a reaction couldn't come from one word. But if it was that hurtful then Chris wouldn't use it again, even if he thought it. 

The potential of his dads finally realizing it always hovered above them. Chris sometimes wanted to shout it after so many years of watching them dance around the topic. But to write fanfiction about them felt like an invasion of privacy on their part. 

How in the world was he going to tell them about this?

Chapter Text

The second he spotted Dylan in home room, Chris was across the room and giving him a whack on the shoulder. 

Dylan jumped with a gasp, whirling around to face Chris, who already had a phone in hand. Shoving the screen in his face, he hissed, "Did you start this?" 

Dylan squinted at Chris's phone, which held the Tik Tok post that started all this. "No." He said far too calmly. 

"But you knew." Chris pressed, his frustration rising. 

He'd known Dylan for two years. A secret this massive was insane. Not to mention he spent the entire morning choking down cereal and watching his dads, the knowledge he owned making him feel like a bomb about to go off at any second. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue, like they always were whenever the two of them had an interaction that could only count as platonic marriage. "You're both idiots!" In retrospect, Chris was very grateful he shoved spoonfuls of cereal in his mouth instead of saying it, because it would probably end in him being grounded. 

Dylan said availingly, "Why would you think that?" 

"You were talking about 'other people' trying to push platonic stuff and all that. Remember yesterday?" Chris asked, forcing his voice to remain level. 

He had come to this suspicion when he hadn't been able to sleep last night, his mind reeling from the buckets of information to process. 

At those words, Dylan averted his gaze, confirming everything Chris hoped wasn't true. Shit. 

"Alright, yeah. But I didn't know they were real people when I started reading them!" Dylan started. 

Chris gaped, "You read them?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, he gasped, "I haven't read all of them. The internet is a seemingly infinite thing that is constantly being updated. Buddie is super popular, bro." 

There it was again. That term. 

"What does that even mean?" Chris interrupted. 

Dylan tilted his head curiously. "Buddie? As in Buck and Eddie? Together? Its a mashup."

Oh. Oh. A ship name. That made sense. Why hadn't he thought of that? Wait. Refocusing, he shook his head slightly. "How long has this been happening?" 

Dylan recalled, "Before I moved here. I thought it was some TV show I hadn't watched but I couldn't find it anywhere. One small description had me interested, and then thirty something fanfictions later I was hooked."

Chris pocketed his phone, taking a seat next to his friend, "You really counted?" 

Dylan nodded seriously, pulling a pocket sized notebook out of his book bag. "I've written down every fic I've read." 

Chris took it, flipping through the pages of endless titles, with a sketched star and the word finished!!!! between each title. 

"Why are there different colors of ink?" He asked, shutting it. 

Dylan flipped to the first page, where a menu lie inside the book's cover. Apparently red ink was ok, blue was amazing, and pink was labeled MUST REREAD!

This was insane. 

Chris handed the notebook back, swallowing hard while Dylan continued, "When I saw your Dads yesterday, I thought I was crazy but I had to ask. Then you said one of them was Buck and I realized these are about real people--who apparently aren't dating?" 

Chris numbly responded, "I guess that's what these stories are for." 

Dylan drummed his fingers on his right knee. "I'm sorry, bro. I thought you knew about all this." 

Chris shrugged, mumbling, "I've been more aware than they have." A small laugh escaped him, "I just never thought an entire city would write fanfiction about two firefighters."

Dylan placed a hand on his shoulder, "Oh innocent one, people will write fanfiction about everything and anything they can conceive of." 

At that, names began to be called, and Chris hastily opened his notebook to answer homework questions he should've done last night. 

Chris managed to finish three assignments by the time he had to get to his first class. School was boring and frustrating as always, the clock ticking at an agonizingly slow pace, and his mind kept drifting from the class lectures to this dilemma. 

He wasn't embarrassed at this. If anything, it was amusing that this many people were invested. But it still felt odd. 

How many people in this classroom alone had read any piece of literature like this? He knew fanfiction was a thing, but for fans of Marvel, The Walking Dead, Good Omens, or more. Never real people.  

Not to mention at least half of the fanfiction he scrolled through last night had Tommy Bashing tags on them. How many friends could he have made through his blatant dislike for Tommy?

Chris still remembered how he had sighed with relief when Buck announced they broke up, and his dad had shot him a warning look to be discreet. If Buck hadn't been in the room, Chris would've commented on the obvious satisfaction that had crossed Eddie's face for a split second when Buck wasn't looking, before he concealed it with a sorrowful tone. 

Shaking his head, he managed to concentrate enough to write solid notes throughout his classes, tapping his foot against tile floors. 

When the final bell rang, he found Dylan waiting outside his classroom, bouncing on his heels. "So," He pounced, following him down the hallway. "Do you plan on telling them? Your parents-not parents?"

Chris cringed at the thought, "I don't know. Do you tell your parents you read this?" 

Dylan corrected, "Read. As in past tense. I went cold turkey when I realized this isn't fiction." 

Chris cast him a dubious look. "Really?" He asked, not wanting to think about what could have been in dozens of stories he read.

Dylan vigorously nodded, "Yeah. Look, if someone was writing fiction about me, I'd be pretty thrilled, but i'd also want to know."

Chris sighed, "I know, but why me? Why can't I just leave the laptop open for all to see and have them 'find it'."

Dylan grinned, "Do you think they'd handle that better than their own son just spitting out the truth? It's not like you did anything wrong. It's awkward, but you'd simply be giving them information you recently acquired." 

Chris considered this as they went through the front doors, with Dylan holding them open for him. "I know. I just have to get it over with, I guess." He replied, an unfamiliar pit forming in his stomach when he saw his parents waiting by the truck, as they often did. How had two days changed the anticipation he felt during school pickups to dread?

Dylan added, "By the way, I think your dad doesn't like me." 

Chris wanted to object, but his dad was giving Dylan a scrutinizing look. "We usually don't talk outside of school, so he's never met you. He gets protective." He excused, giving his dad his own warning look. 

Dylan shrugged, "Is today a good day to introduce myself then, because the dude has one frosty glare and i'd love for him to lose it." 

Chris smirked, seeing Buck elbow his dad, distracting him from what was an icy look. "Today we have dinner at a friend's house. I'll ask if you can come over tomorrow." 

Dylan nodded, letting the door swing shut behind them as he walked in the opposite direction towards his Mom's SUV. "Alright. Text me the details!"

Chris responded by flipping him off, turned in a direction that only Dylan could see. As Chris spun around he heard Dylan snickering. Forcing a smile at his dads, Chris silently wished he had spent lunch period formulating a plan on how to share this, rather than finishing boring, useless homework. 

The car drive was spent with Chris quietly staring out the window from his backseat. He always sat here, in the back right spot where he could see who was driving--normally his dad--and Buck, could easily reach back and hand him things on fast food days when everyone was too tired to cook. 

Since he was seven he had watched them grow closer, at first Buck would knock on their door to visit, now they have the keys to each other's apartments. By the time Chris was eight, Buck often burst into their house ranting about some topic and Eddie would put down whatever he was doing to give them his full attention. (Why Buck never seemed to come in on days he had math homework was unknown to him but still...)

Separate car rides turned to 'carpooling to save gas' as Eddie had nonchalantly claimed. Even then Chris had sat in this exact car seat, watching them casually bump elbows while driving or shopping for groceries as a family. Of course, Chris pretended Buck wasn't buying groceries for his own apartment, and his dad their house, because he wished they all lived under the same roof. 

Even then his dad grabbed Buck's favorite brand of coffee that Chris knew he hated because they would have breakfasts together. Chris never missed Buck picking up his dad's favorite foods either, because Chris had eaten them every morning at that age. 

The next time he stayed at Buck's he had found a box of fruit loops marked with a post it note in the cabinet: Reserved for Chris. MADDIE, DON'T TOUCH!!!

The family shopping, meals, movie nights, Buck rarely going to his own apartment, because he was always at theirs, and the fact that once a month they both sat down to go over each others freaking bills and other expenses just sat in a bottle, untouched. Forced to pretend it was casual. 

Since Chris was seven Buck would peek into his room as much as his dad to check on him. Through his sleepy haze, Chris would hear his dad ask, "He good?" Then his door would softly click shut and Chris always heard the smile in Buck's voice when he said, "Yeah." Chris used to stay awake and listen, partially thrilled he fooled his parents into thinking he was asleep every night, and partially excited thinking This is it! 

Then shortly after that the accidental slips of "My dads" came and Chris fought against saying it, even when he thought it.

Sometimes Chris wondered if they both knew but didn't want to mess it up. Because the way they would glance at each other when they thought no one was looking...there was no way they weren't destined for a step past friendship. 

Even now his dad was asking Buck if he could drop Chris off at school next week because he had a doctor's appointment. 

Buck's attention snapped in his direction as if Eddie had announced he had a terminal illness. "Doctor? Wait-- why?!"

A small smile from his dad as he tilted his head toward Buck and reassured, "For a daily checkup. Simple routine, Buck. Now, are you dropping our kid off or not?" 

At that Buck seemed to stop breathing, and even Chris wasn't sure if he heard that right. Our kid. Eddie waited expectantly, as if this was casual. 

Buck stammered, "Uh, yeah. Sure. Sounds great. Good." A dazed, distant look overcame him as he studied the dashboard like it held all the answers required. 

Chris took a deep breath. Holy shit. This was it. The moment to confess. Weird timing, but at least his dad was driving and not Buck. If Buck had been behind the wheel Chris would've accepted they'd probably end up in a ditch before they reached their destination. 

However after a moment of thick silence, his dad said conversationally, "Hen's birthday is coming up. Have you heard if anyone is planning a party yet?"

Buck slowly looked up, as if the gears in his brain forgot how to turn properly. "Hmm?" Before he got a response, Buck continued, "Oh. Yeah. Chimney and Maddie are hosting something at their house. Karen has been sneaking over decor whenever she can." 

And with that, Chris seethed in the backseat as the conversation shifted away from the obvious yet again. 

Chapter Text

Once they reached Bobby and Athena's Chris was on the verge of bursting as the small talk only increased. 

Buck seemed to have shaken off the shock by the time he knocked on Bobby's door, and they filed into the house to greet one another. 

Chris always loved going to their house. It felt like a second-well, he guessed a third home. Buck's apartment always stayed as a solid second, after years of crashing there after school. What a privilege, to call several houses equal homes. 

Sizzling from the kitchen grew louder, demanding Bobby's attention. He sprang back from where he was hugging Buck and rushed back to the kitchen, Buck in tow. Eddie and Athena shared smiles before heading further into the house, towards the dining room. 

Following, Chris asked Athena, "Where are May and Harry?" 

Athena responded over her shoulder, "Oh, May has college classes tonight and Harry's out with friends." 

Chris nodded, though she turned her head last moment. That was unfortunate. He usually enjoyed spending time with them when he stayed over. Harry used to play Xbox games with him when he came over. He didn't spend much time with May, but she was still cool. 

"Alright," Bobby's voice came from the dining room, and Chris was hit with the aroma of well cooked steak. Reaching for the oven's handle as it dinged, he acknowledged, "Chris, you still like chicken, not steak, right?" 

Chris's brows rose as he saw Bobby lift a tray of two chicken breasts from the oven. He hadn't expected Bobby to remember the comment he made three weeks ago at Harry's birthday party. He hadn't meant to be mean, he had just responded honestly because for once Bobby hadn't cooked for the event, Buck had.

"Yes." Chris managed to get out, shocked. 

His dad and him simultaneously, "You didn't have to do that."

While they paused to glance at one another, Bobby placed the chicken tray on the oven, waving a free hand. "No problem." Gesturing to a pile of silverware on the counter, he added, "But someone needs to set the table."

Chris's dad snatched the silverware and began setting the table while Buck helped set food on plates. During this time Maddie and Chimney arrived. 

Once everyone was seated, conversation shifted to work. Apparently the water systems at LA were on fire, which explained why he wasn't allowed to use water at school today. It also answered why the Grants' kitchen sink had a massive sign taped to it that said DO NOT USE!

Chris asked, "When will the water systems be cleared to use again?"

"I'd say in a day or two." Athena responded when Bobby glanced at her for an answer. 

Buck crossed his fingers, "Here's hoping." 

Chris was curious about what happened at Athena's workplace when all of this was happening, but as usual she remained silent on her part, sipping a glass of wine instead. Bobby always said she "left her job at the door". Chris had to silently respect that so he left it to his imagination. 

"Chris," Bobby addressed, snapping him from his thoughts, "How's school?"

Chris shrugged, watching Buck squint at his dad's plate and then pick off three peppers that sat on top of his mashed potatoes. Red peppers. Because he knew Eddie only like green ones. Tale as old as time, he had been doing that for five years with pizza, rice, and any other meals. And every time Eddie acted nonchalant, just as he did now. He even leaned back to allow him access to his plate, still chewing on a bite of steak. 

Strike One. 

Chimney used to smirk slyly and even Bobby would arch a brow while Hen snickered quietly, but now everyone at the table didn't bat an eye. Used to years of platonic marriage. 

"Good." Chris said distractedly, forcing his eyes away from them for a moment, "A's and B's. Got a 90 on a Science test last week." 

"That's great!" Bobby grinned. 

Swallowing, Eddie said proudly, "Yeah, Buck and I have been helping him study all week."

Strike Two. 

They had been helping him, pulling out flashcards while he ate his cereal-the fruit loops Buck always got-and pop quizzed him to keep his mind sharp. 

The other day Chris had been stressed for the test that he almost forgot his lunch, and Buck had come running out of the house like he was being chased by an angry crowd with torches, holding up a bag like it was Simba from The Lion King. 

Chris smiled now at the memory. 

Athena complimented, "Congrats on that. When Harry was your age he couldn't get more than a C minus." She chuckled wryly. "I'm glad you're getting better grades than he did." 

Chris's smile widened, and his dads got that proud glint in his eyes they always got for these things. 

Chris still remembered graduating middle school and walking into the stage to get his diploma. His dads had been in the front of the crowd, and all his butterflies had vanished when he saw them waving excitedly, those same proud glints shining as they did now. 

That was why he worked hard in school. Not to get a reward, but for those proud beams his parents--shit! Dad and Buck. 

He heaved a sigh, unsure if he was frustrated with himself or them. 

"Chris?"

Chris's head snapped up at his dad's voice, "Hmm?"

Everyone at the table, he discovered, was looking at him. Head flooded his cheeks. 

His dad questioned, "Something wrong?"

Chris forced a smile of his own, the question giving him the urge to laugh. Of course there was something wrong. Somethings, and he was on the verge of exploding. How can an entire city of people, including their friends, know but they don't? How can two people be so stupidly oblivious?

"No, all good." He heard himself say calmly, taking a deep breath. But then something triggered him. 

Buck glanced at the salt shaker, and before he lifted his hand Eddie was already handing it to him. Then, to top off what Chris tried to tell himself was delusion, when Buck opened his mouth Eddie questioned, "Want me to pass more salad?" He gestured to the salad down the table, out of Buck's reach. Buck happily nodded, taking the bowl from Eddie and spooning some on his plate. 

Strike. Fucking. Three. 

At that, something possessed Christopher Diaz to finally open his mouth and spit the words he had repressed for over half a damn decade out into the open. "Are you two secretly dating?" 

Chaos ensued on the table at those five words. 

Buck dropped his fork with a clang as it his the plate before toppling to the ground. 

Eddie froze, seeming to stop breathing completely, salad bowl in hand since Buck had handed it to him and jaw nearly touching the tablecloth. 

Athena, usually kept in good composure, choked so hard on her wine that she doubled over the table. 

Chimney whispered, "Oh, shit."

Maddie just smiled. 

Then there was Bobby, who was glancing between Eddie, Buck, and Chris as if he were watching an invisible ping pong ball match, eyes widened comically. 

In all the chaos, somehow the room dropped to a silent void. 

Finally, finding the words, Buck said, "Chris..." glancing at Eddie for help, his mouth opened and closed until Eddie managed to get out words of his own. "We're friends, Chris. You know that." Glancing around the table, he said questioningly when he saw everyone's expressions, "You all know that. Right?"

Maddie and Chim grew interested in what was on their plates, as if food had appeared before them. 

Bobby held up his hands like he was under gunpoint. 

Eddie finally looked to Athena, who recovered from choking, laughed, "Don't look to me. I've been waiting a long time for you two to realize." 

Buck's hand hadn't moved from where he held the fork originally, as if he hadn't realized he had dropped it. "I--uh--" He glanced at Eddie again, as if he was a lifeline that held all the answers. Maybe that was it. Waiting to see if there was potential. Or he just thought he was bad with words. 

Chris decided to take control, or his mouth did before his brain logically resigned it in, "Then you two are idiots." 

Another silent, "Oh shit." from Chimney.

A "Hush!" from a smiling Maddie. 

"Christopher Diaz!" Eddie gasped. 

Chris was too exasperated to care. 

"Do you know every friend I had has called you my dads? The teachers, parents, even Santa's freaking Elf--" He pointed an accusing finger at Buck. "Which you didn't deny! And you!" He pointed at his own dad, who still hasn't shut his gaping mouth. "Definitely heard it because you were holding me at the time! Explain your satisfied smirk the entire ride home!"

His dad stammered, "I-it was Christmas--"

Chris held up a finger while Eddie's cheeks reddened, "I'm not done yet." 

Gasps rounded the table while Maddie and Athena raised their glasses in approval. 

Athena nodded in encouragment, muttering, "Preach." 

Chris's dads gaped at them while they beamed shamelessly. 

"Now, I have watched you two raise me for over half my life. I spent most of it waiting for an announcement to come up. Buck," Chris turned to him, softening a bit, "I've thought of you as a dad for five years now, and i'm sorry if saying it makes you uncomfortable, but it slips sometimes. Because you are! You help me with homework and drop me off at school or friend's houses. You and Dad always take me out on holidays like we're a family and I never notice anyone else invited to things like this. When I'm packing for a trip you are always the first to double and triple check my bags in  a nervous mess. And the family shopping trips and sitting together to go over bills--"

"Bills?" Maddie gasped. 

Buck's face flushed pink, but he claimed, "Chris, that's not it. I-i'm honored that you think that but I'm-not your dad. Eddie is-you know-he's amazing-" Buck was glancing at Eddie anxiously, as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar again. 

Eddie seemed to stricken to realize this, staring through Chris. 

Chris rolled his eyes, "Yeah. We know you're aware, Buck. I've heard you singing his praises to everyone in a ten mile radius at any event we go to as a 'platonic family' or whatever you wanna call it." He said, gesturing to them. 

Buck remembered to drop his hand, which was no longer holding the fork. 

Eddie stammered, "Buck and I are--"

Chris rolled his eyes, "Yeah. Yeah. Gimme a minute Mr. Repressed." 

An indignant noise came from Eddie while Chimney cackled. 

Chris continued, "Best friends don't crash at each other's houses every night because it is the only place they can sleep. They don't raise a kid together as thoroughly as you two do. They don't say "Wanna go to the title" platonically--"

Gasps rang around the room again and Eddie slumped into his chair, avoiding all eye contact.

Buck looked dumbfounded. 

Bobby seemed unsure of if he wanted to leave the table for a private matter or stay. Curiosity possessed the man to remain seated. 

Chris sighed, "The point is, in my perspective you are my dads. You basically live under the same roof--Buck stops by his apartment what? Twice a month?--At this point it isn't normal if Buck isn't in the house. It doesn't feel right. Like a piece of our family is missing. And Dad--" His voice turned slightly pleading, "I know you enjoy having Buck live with us too. I've seen you go to make two cups of coffee on days he isn't there and then you realize it and pause. Every time your shoulders drop a bit and the good mood is tinted. I feel it too."

Chris's dad seemed to have forgotten how to blink, or breathe still. Shoot. Maybe he broke the unbreakable Eddie Diaz. 

Buck kept glancing from Chris to Eddie to Maddie before restarting, as if he needed a routine. Finally resting on Chris, he said, "Look, Chris. I-i know this might feel like that but we aren't-" another glance at Eddie "-well, you know. I mean, I lov-uh, highly appreciate spending time with you guys, but.......uh......" He glanced at Eddie again for the umpteenth time, and Chris swore he saw a loading button hovering over his father's head. "Eddie?"

Chris's dad was staring right through him, seeming to not hear him. Chris furrowed his brow. 

Everyone at the table was either enjoying the show or observing their plates. Some were alternating between the two. 

Chimney finally said, "Think he's having a stroke?" 

Maddie shot him a look that silenced him. 

Eddie blinked a few times, then took a deep breath, "What?"

Chris frowned, his irritation growing, "What do you mean what?"

Eddie shook his head slowly, squinting at Chris. "Chris, you know I'm straight." 

Several scoffs came from around the table, including Bobby. 

Eddie gasped at the lot while Buck bit his lip, "You too Bobby?"

Despite the recent scoff, Bobby balked, "No comment, this is between you two." 

Buck said, "Yeah, but there is no 'us two'" 

Another round of scoffs sounded, the loudest being from Bobby once more. 

Maddie even went as far as to say, "Evan Buckley, I have listened to you drone on about this amazing guy with a kid for over half a decade like he is Jesus Christ--" 

Buck retorted, "In a strictly platonic way, Maddie! What is this? An intervention?" 

Chimney muttered, "It took you this long to realize that?"

Chris wanted to slap both of them at this point. "You two are literally sitting at a table surrounded by people who know. Every single teacher i've had knows. Friends' parents know." Resting his elbows on the table, he pressed, "I wouldn't be surprised if people on calls know because guess what? There is fanfiction of you two," He gestured with the fork he was holding as their jaws dropped once again. "on the internet. Thousands of stories. A good amount of them bashing Tommy Kinnard which is a godsend for anyone that knew him--"

Buck opened his mouth to interject, "Hey, that's not-"

Chris continued to fire rapidly, the words he had to say coming from a bottomless pit of repression. "Look it up. I dare you. You'll find it all on A03. I could list every single argument I have against you absolute morons-"

Christopher Diaz!" His  father finally had the sense of mind to respond. 

"-But I know we'd be sitting at this table for hours. Especially because I probably had a front row seat to thinks they never saw." Chris gestured to the rest of the table, landing Athena and Maddie, who were sitting next to one another grinning like cats who caught canaries. "So believe me when I say this. Dad. The day you are straight is the day that pigs fly over LA."

Buck ducked his head to hide a smirk while Eddie looked appalled. "Chris, this is ridiculous." 

Chimney spoke up, "Actually, he couldn't be more on point." 

Eddie responded, "How?! Chris, I have never--you know what? No." He stood up, scraping his chair behind him. "I don't have to justify this." His sweeping gaze fell over the audience, which caused many to avoid his gaze. "I'm telling you all that this isn't--well, you know. If it was, i'd be completely aware of it."

Athena intervened, "Eddie, we didn't mean to pressure anything."

Eddie merely shook his head, backing up, and Chris realized he might've taken it too far. That what had meant to be a simple confrontation had turned into pulling a grenade pin. 

Shoot. 

His dad swallowed hard, placing the salad bowl on the kitchen table as if he remembered he was holding it. "Uh, I have to go. Athena, Bobby, thank you for cooking." 

"Eddie, come on." Chimney tried, but Chris's dad was already going through the living room, skipping up the stairs. 

The sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house, leaving Chris with the silent concern that he had pushed too far. 

But more than anything...an overwhelming sense of relief and satisfaction filled him. A pressure cooker finally opened. 

Buck stared at the stairs for a moment, then glanced around the table curiously. "All of you?"

Seeing their expressions as confirmation, he turned to Bobby, who looked guilty. "You too?"

Bobby said cautiously,  "I had relationship forms ready for you two within a month of hiring Eddie, Buck. Of course I knew." 

Buck digested this, then frowned. "Well, I mean, you all know looks can be deceiving. Chris--your dad and I just have a close friendship, you know. I'm honored that you think more than that, though i'm a little freaked out about that fanfiction thing-you said A03, right?-anyways, I guess what i'm trying to say is you have to understand we're friends."

Chris skeptically said, "Mmm Hmm." He began picking through his food, which had grown cold over his speech. 

Buck insisted, "Really, I..." He frowned, looking down the table, his attention averted. "Maddie, are you seriously looking up fanfiction?" He wrinkled his nose. "Is there really fanfiction about me and Eddie? Who would spend their time writing that?"

Maddie said defensively, "I wouldn't read anything like that. You're my brother, that'd be gross." A slight pause. "However, there is an insane amount of Tommy Bashing fics and I am all for that." 

Buck gasped, "Maddie!" 

She laughed, "You think it's just me? If anybody disliked Tommy Kinnard, raise their hand." 

She boldly raised hers, unwavering eye contact with Buck, who was stupefied as Chimney and Athena followed. 

"Buck," Athena explained, "I am fully supportive of your relationships and frankly they are none of my business to judge, but dumping you was the best thing he did." 

Buck blinked slowly, then looked to Bobby for support. 

Bobby raised his hands in surrender again. "No comment." 

Buck opened his mouth to protest when the front door opened.

Eddie slowly walked into the house, stopping on the stairs landing with a guilty expression. "I'm driving you guys." He stated, as if this just occurred to him. 

Chris set down his fork, glancing at Buck, who was also getting up. "Well," he paused, mind still reeling, "Uh, thanks for the meal." He crookedly grinned at Bobby, then Athena. "The cooking was fantastic as always."

Bobby nodded quietly, though a small smile was on his face. 

Athena responded, "No problem. See you both next week?" Her gaze sliced from Buck to Eddie, who was still awkwardly waiting on the landing. 

Chris stood as Buck nodded in confirmation. 

Athena accepted that and grinned at Chris, "Thank you, Chris. That was long overdue." 

Chris head his dad facepalm behind him, while Buck cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Bye." He nodded, giving a small wave as he made his way towards the door. 

Chris followed slowly, dreading the drive home already.