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Chris notices it a few days after he comes back to LA, wandering into the kitchen after school to rummage for snacks.
“C’mon, Chris, it’s almost dinner,” Buck says, without looking up from the pan where he’s making something that does, admittedly, smell great.
Chris prepares to pout at him and go “But Buck…” in that way that always makes Buck cave, even more so now that he’s been away for a while. Dad told him not to ‘take advantage of your Buck missing you,’ and Chris tries not to, but this is an emergency, okay? He’s a growing teenager, and he’s gonna starve.
He opens his mouth to protest, then pauses, eyes catching on something attached to the refrigerator. “Wait, what’s that?”
Buck blinks away from dinner at him, tilts his head. “What?”
“That,” Chris taps on the piece of paper. Buck’s eyes light up, a smile curving his face that makes Christopher feel…tangly.
“Oh!” Buck says, smile growing even bigger, filling the entire kitchen. “Jee drew that for me last time I visited, isn’t it cute? We were playing fairies.”
Chris squints at the drawing. In it is a little scribble of a figure with long black hair and a pink triangle for a dress. Beside her, holding her hand, is a tall figure in blue and yellow, a kid’s depiction of turnouts, and a mess of brown that does a passable simulacrum of curls. Both of them are smiling, half-moons of crayon-pink, with pink moth-like wings behind them, and they look like they’re holding magic wands, wobbly stars at the end of sticks.
The last time Chris was in LA, Buck still had the last drawing Chris had made him in middle school up on the fridge, the one where they were fighting Thanatos together with a fire engine. Chris had complained about how embarrassing it was that it was still up every time he visited. Apparently, Buck had finally listened.
“Superman?” Chris looks at Buck, whose brows are faintly scrunched above his smile. “You alright? If you’re really that hungry, grab an apple or something. Just don’t tell your dad.”
Chris glances again at the drawing on the fridge. “No thanks,” he says, sounding abrupt even to himself. “I’m not hungry.”
Now that Chris has started noticing, he can’t stop noticing.
“Is that a new screensaver?”
Buck looks up from his phone, grinning. “Oh, yeah!” his eyes are wrinkled at the edges with fondness. “This was from last Halloween- doesn't she look adorable? We went as a Buck and a Doe!”
He looks at the tiny animal grinning at the screen, Buck cheek-to-cheek in a long antler’ed headband beside her. Before he left for Texas, Buck's screensaver had been a picture of him and Chris at the Griffith Observatory, faces squished together and grinning, lit up in bits of starlight.
“Lame,” he mutters, and pretends not to notice the way Buck’s face falls a little.
“You joining us for dinner tonight?” dad asks, giving Buck that smile that he only ever seems to wear around him.
Buck snorts. “Do you mean, am I going to make you that cheesy bacon and chicken casserole you’ve been whining about all week?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said it!”
That gets a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. There’s a tray in the fridge. You guys eat it for dinner- I have plans tonight.”
Dad raises an eyebrow, and Chris feels him shift in a way that feels…off. His words sound a little plasticky, too casual. “Oh, like, a date?”
Buck beams at him, winks. “I’m showing the lady around a very special place,” he says. Before Chris can faux-gag at him, he’s pulling out a set of tickets that look very familiar. “The LA zoo is having a mini-pig petting event! Jee’s been begging to go.”
Chris sees dad’s shoulder relax, but he doesn’t get why. That was their Buck! The zoo was their thing! Dad’s voice is soft and warm, like he doesn’t understand at all what’s at stake here. “Jee’s been begging? And I’m guessing that you didn’t have any hand in influencing her at all?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eddie, I’m just giving my beloved sister and brother-in-law a night in while I take the kids on a fun adventure.”
Dad laughs, and Chris wants to throw something. He stands up instead, making both of them look at him. He doesn’t bother to speak before going to his room.
He can’t even have the zoo.
Chris needs a plan, is the thing.
“You are aware that you’re planning on beefing with a four-year old, right?” Denny says to him, taking a bite of cake. They’re at what is ostensibly a housewarming party for the Grant-Nash house, but is really one of a dozen ‘Bobby’s alive!’ bashes that the 118 has found some excuse to put on now that Bobby is officially retired.
Chris glares at him through his own mouthful of cake. “I’m not beefing with her,” he protests. “I’m just…”
“Establishing dominance? Maintaining a hierarchy? Making sure she knows who’s boss?”
“You’re making me sound like an asshole.”
Denny shrugs unrepentantly. “If it looks like a duck and sounds like a duck…”
“It could be a Trojan Duck,” Chris grumbles. He got that one from Buck, back when they were in their Greek mythology phase. “And what, are you on her side?”
“I’m on the side of sanity,” Denny says implacably. “And besides, Mara loves Jee, so I have big brother duties here.”
Chris presses his lips together. Denny bonding so much with Mara was another thing that mostly happened while he was away, the two of them transitioning from a kind of awkward, fledgling connection to full siblinghood. He wishes he only felt happy for Denny, instead of…whatever this was.
“Look, it’s not that I’m being mean to her or anything,” Chris says. “I just think it’s weird, you know? Like, what, the second I move away, Buck takes down all my stuff and replaces me with a younger, cuter model? What the fuck is that?”
“You understand how your words are weird as fuck, right.”
Chris crosses his arms. “I just think that Buck should remember who his first kid is.”
That makes Denny raise an eyebrow at him. “First kid? What are you, his firstborn?”
Yes, Chris wants to say, petulant and furious. But that’s not true, is it? That’s the whole problem in the first place.
“Hey guys, stop dawdling and come over to eat.” Harry appears in front of them like a spectre, Buck at his shoulder holding the interloper over his shoulder. “Bobby made Portuguese grilled chicken, and it’s the sh- stuff.”
“Good catch,” Buck snorts. He and Harry share a look, which makes Denny and Chris roll their eyes at each other subtly. Just because Harry was eighteen now…
Chris sits next to Buck, dad on his other side. He’s still holding Jee-yun in his arms, and Chris knows, alright? He knows exactly how comforting it is to be a little kid being held by Buck, who is right next to dad on the list of the bravest people Chris knows. He also is perfectly aware - thanks, Denny - that he’s being an irrational asshole. But that doesn’t stop him from hurting.
“Jee, say hi to Chris!” Buck says to the little girl perched in his lap. Jee-yun peers at him curiously, and Chris stares back. He’s not sure if she remembers him, given he was away for so long and only saw her occasionally before that. But she smiles toothily, waves at him.
“Hi, Chris!” she chirps.
Chris waits just enough to make things uncomfortable. “Hey,” he says. Then: “Hey Buck, can you grab me some more potato salad?”
Buck squints at him, frowning. “...sure,” he says.
As he moves, Chris makes eye contact with Jee-yun and narrows his eyes, telling her that cuteness wasn’t going to get her anywhere with him. She giggles, reaches a little hand out towards the watermelon on his plate.
Chris moves his plate away. She’s already stealing his Buck, she’s not gonna get her hands on his watermelon, too.
Buck passes the potato salad to him, letting Chris scoop his own portion out onto his plate. “You having fun with Chris?” he asks Jee-yun. She flings her arms up, almost knocking Buck in the nose.
“Yeah!”
“I thought you would,” Buck smiles at her, then over her head at Chris. “Chris is the coolest guy in the world, after all.”
Chris ducks his head into his plate, because he doesn't deserve that, does he? Not after the year he’s inflicted on them. Jee-yun looks at him with big, innocent eyes, and Chris keeps eating.
“Here, Jee,” Buck says, feeding Jee a bite of Bobby’s ribs. Jee-yun giggles, getting sauce all over her face.
“Hey, Buck,” Chris says, a little loud. “Can you get me another portion of ribs?”
Buck squints at him a little. “You’re not finished with what’s on your plate yet, bud,” he says, looking a little confused.
Chris frowns, a little sullen. “I know I’ll want more,” he says, then he turns to Buck, making his eyes go big. “Please?”
Buck smiles then, a little rueful, and grabs Christopher’s plate. He leaves Jee-yun in the chair when he leaves, and she peers at him curiously, her little legs swinging in the chair.
“You look like uncle Buck,” she says, voice innocent. “Is it because uncle Buck is your daddy like how I look like daddy?”
Chris scoffs instead of feeling hurt. “No.” he says, biting back meaner words.
A tilt of her head, “Okay.” a pause. “Can I have more watermelon?”
Chris looks at the bowl of watermelon next to him. “No,” he says, with a sick curl of satisfaction.
Jee-yun makes a grumpy noise, like she’s thinking about throwing a tantrum. Chris hopes she does, because then maybe aunt Maddie or uncle Chim will come and take her away. It’s a mean thought, but he can’t help himself from thinking it.
Before she gears up, though, a hand reaches over and puts a wedge of watermelon in front of her. She grins up gummily. “Thank you uncle Eddie!”
Buck slides back in his seat, then, ruffling Jee-yun’s hair and putting a plate in front of Chris with a warm smile. Chris thanks him, a little muted. They start eating, like nothing’s wrong at all.
On his other side, he can feel his dad’s eyes on him, and he knows he’s been caught.
For all that Chris is all in favor of dad’s journey to therapy and being a well-adjusted person or whatever, he is not a fan of dad’s new desire to talk about things.
“What was that, mijo?” he asks at home, arms crossed. Chris would go to his room to avoid him if he could, but dad had blocked the way and given him a look. Chris, who is already in a bad mood because Buck had cheerfully told them that he would be going to the Hans tonight to help put baby Nash and Jee-yun to bed, also crosses his arms.
“What?” he says, knowing full well what.
“Christopher.”
Christopher stays sullenly silent.
Dad sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s been reluctant to argue with Chris, still tentative after Texas. But he takes his time now, chooses his words. “With Jee-yun, at dinner. What was that?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It looked like you were mad at Jee,” Dad says, not unfairly.
“I’m not.” Chris lies.
“Then you were being rude to a kid,” Dad points out. “Which is pretty unlike you, bud.”
How do you know what’s like me? Chris barely bites back, because he doesn’t want dad to actually cry. He turns away.
“Christopher,” dad’s voice is soft now, sad. “We said we’d talk about things now, remember? That’s a two-way street.”
Dammit, dad. Using Christopher’s own words against him.
Chris shuffles a little, sighs, turns back around. “I just think it’s kind of unfair,” he says.
Dad looks confused. “What’s unfair?”
“That-” Chris tries to find a way to make it all make sense. It doesn't. “That Buck took her to the zoo.”
Dad blinks, tilts his head. “Buck asked you to go,” he points out. “And you said no.”
Because he’s fourteen and had a gaming session booked, yes, but- “He keeps spending nights at aunt Maddie and uncle Chim’s.”
“They had a new kid, buddy, Buck just wants to help.”
“And- and-” Chris inhales, is surprised at the sharpness of it. “And the picture on the fridge.”
Dad looks at him for a long time. “Are you…jealous of Jee-yun?”
Chris looks down. “He likes her.” he says. “He does everything with her that he used to do with me.”
“Chris,” Dad says after a beat or two of silence, sounding faintly bewildered, which only makes Chris more mad. “Come on, bud. You know that’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?” Chris retorts petulantly.
“Buck is Jee-yun’s uncle. He has a different relationship with her than he does with you, but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”
Chris shakes his head. “He’s her uncle,” he repeats. “Her actual uncle. He’s supposed to care about her. But- I’m not- he’s not my actual-” dad, he doesn’t say, because the words fit too well in his mouth in a way that hurts.
Dad hears it too, because his eyes shutter, just a little. “Chris-”
“It’s not fair,” Chris snaps. “Just because she’s- still a little kid, and cute, or whatever, and Buck likes kids, and I’m not a kid anymore- he’s gonna leave, and she gets to keep him even when she grows up, because she’s his actual family.” he blinks, and, humiliatingly, feels wetness at the edges of his eyes. Dad scrambles forward, hands hovering above his shoulders like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch. Chris doesn’t want him to. Chris wishes he would.
“Oh, buddy,” Dad says, sounding heartbroken. Chris hates that he’s making dad sound like that again, heartworn and sad. He wishes he was small again, the kid who could make him feel better, instead of tall and lanky and always making dad sad, always growing further and further from Buck. He stares at his socked feet, hands in fists, and feels dad’s shadow shift over him as dad hesitates, then moves away.
For a moment, Chris is scared that dad is going to do something humiliating, like call Buck. But instead, he hears the sound of a door opening, some shuffling, then dad’s footsteps coming back towards him. Then there’s a sheaf of paper underneath his nose, and Chris blinks. Looks up at dad.
Dad doesn’t say anything, looking scared and resolute. Chris looks back down at the papers.
The Last Will and Testament of Edmundo Diaz
“Dad, what-”
Dad’s hand circles his wrist gently, pulls his hand to rest on the paper, drags it down so that Christopher’s fingertips are hovering over one provision.
In the case of death and/or incapacitation, I nominate Evan Buckley to serve as the sole legal guardian of my child.
Christopher stares. The living room is silent. He’s pretty sure that neither of them are breathing.
Eventually, dad breaks the silence. “He’s not gonna leave, mijo,” he says, gentle and sure. “He’s always gonna be your Buck.”
Predictably, dad tells Buck.
Chris doesn't know this for sure, of course, but he can guess by the way that Buck is suddenly hovering over him, drawing him into conversations even more than he usually does- which is really saying something. The way he suddenly starts sending Chris links upon links to things they can do together, making him all his favorite foods.
Chris will never admit it out loud, but it does make him feel better. A little.
He doesn't say anything, though, and Christopher watches him sometimes, the familiar way he walks around the house, the way he’s stopped mentioning moving out. He wonders if maybe it’s his turn to be brave.
“Buck,” he says, on a Saturday morning where dad is off playing basketball and Buck is meal-prepping. Buck turns to him, his whole body twisting like he’s the poster child for active listening. Chris leans against the kitchen doorway, wonders how to say it out loud. “Um. Can I talk to you about something?”
Buck pushes away from the counter, walks towards him in a dark apron and damp hands. “Anytime, buddy, you know that.”
Chris nods, thinks about is it because he’s your daddy?
“I…I’m sorry that I was rude to Jee.”
Buck’s eyes soften. “Oh, Chris,” he bends down a little to catch Christopher’s eyes, no longer needing to crouch to do so. “That- well, it’s not okay, but I get it. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re being replaced, and lashing out because of it. You weren’t mean to her, and she didn't notice anything, but you should apologize to her the next time you see each other.”
Chris nods, working out the next words. “I missed you,” he says, which isn't quite what he wants to say but is close enough.
Buck looks like he wants to cry, a little. “I missed you too, Chris. So much.”
“I don't want you to leave.”
“I won't, for as long as you need me, I’ll be right here.”
“I wish you were my dad too.”
Buck’s eyes widen at that, his mouth dropping open to form a small ‘o’. His eyes go red around the edges, and he blinks rapidly. “Chris…”
“I know it’s stupid, and I love dad, and he’s great, but I just- if you were my other dad, you’d always be around, too. I wouldn't have to be scared.” not that he was never scared about dad leaving, but that was only from things he couldn’t help: bullets in another country, in LA. Car accidents and plane crashes, fires and rubble. He was never scared that dad would leave him voluntarily.
Buck is silent for a few beats, and Chris shifts, feeling awkward. Then, a hand on his wrist. He watches the soft curve of Buck’s shoulders as he chuckles, a little sheepish. “This is a little embarrassing, but…”
Chris blinks as he tugs him into his (and dad’s) bedroom, motioning for him to sit on the floor in front of his closet. He watches as Buck opens the doors, rummaging around in the back of soft hoodies and workout tees and LAFD uniforms to pull something rectangular out.
Buck closes the closet door behind him as he sets the thing in front of Chris, a dark wooden box, lacquered and obviously sturdy. Chris reaches out, can’t help himself, to trace his fingers over the name carved over the lid. His name.
“I…It’s probably not my place to do something like this, but a few years ago, my parents brought Maddie her baby box, and I just…I didn’t really think about it, I guess.”
“Can I open it?” Chris asks, and hears the slight waver in his own voice.
Buck’s smile, when he looks up at him, is gentle, a little scared. “Always, superman.”
The wood is smooth under his palms. “Oak,” Buck tells him. “For strength and resilience, because you’re the strongest kid I know.”
Chris cracks it open, the hinges moving smoothly. The inside is a hodgepodge of things, papers and photos and bits and pieces, all of which are achingly, terribly familiar.
“Our zoo pass,” Chris says, holding the faded card up in the bedroom light.
“It expired last year,” Buck says, a little sad.
“We can get new ones.”
There are ticket stubs and photo strips stained with sea, that make Chris think of roiling waves and feeling safe on what should’ve been the worst day of his life. There are photocopied report cards, newsletters from his elementary school, flowers that Chris used to leave on the kitchen table carefully pressed and dried. There are photos and photos and photos, more than Chris has ever seen in one place.
And there are cards on construction paper, words written in crayon. Chris lifts up a piece of paper, a small boy in crayon surrounded by figures in turnouts, fighting against the kind of evil only a kid would believe in.
“I would never replace you,” Buck says, cupping Christopher’s cheek with a warm hand. “I want to remember everything about you.”
“You were right.”
The fairy barbie freezes, and Jee peers up at him with big brown eyes. Chris will admit, now, that she is very cute.
“Chris!” she cheers, toppling sideways from her seat to hug him. It’s good that he’s already sitting on the same sofa, or he might’ve fallen. He puts an arm around her, instead.
“Buck and I do look kind of alike,” he tells her, because she’s little, and because it’s a sort of apology. “And he is kind of my dad.”
“Uncle Buck’s your dad!” Jee says, less like a question and more like an exclamation.
Chris smiles, ruffles her hair. She shoves another barbie into his hands. He looks over at Buck, who’s beaming at him from where he was talking to aunt Maddie. At dad, who is obviously taking a picture of the two of them. He looks down at Jee, who is looking up at him expectantly. A little like his baby cousins in El Paso.
“You know,” he whispers conspiratorially, watching their parents move into the kitchen. “Your uncle Buck’s not my official dad yet, but I’m planning on changing that soon. If you want to help.”
Her eyes go big and sparkly. “I wanna help!”
Chris grins, watching dad and Buck walk so closely together that their shoulders knock with every step.
“Okay, Jee. Welcome to the parent trap brigade.”