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Eddie jumps out of the engine, several heavy pairs of boots hitting the ground behind him as the crew makes their way back into the station after a relatively easy call.
It’d been a fender bender at best, and they did more clean up than actual medical assistance, but Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit grateful for it.
Obviously, he’s glad that nobody was seriously injured - he’s not a monster, after all - but there’s also the fact that the thought of moving back to El Paso has been spinning around and around in his head for the last week, ever since Buck flipped the tablet over and then inserted himself into Eddie’s house hunt.
Of course, that’s been making him feel some things, too.
It hit him then, the way he hasn’t really been alone ever since Buck had taken one look at the mess that was Eddie’s life when he first moved to LA and decided it was a mess that he wanted to be a part of.
Through all of Eddie’s disasters - the shooting, his will reveal, his move to dispatch and the following breakdown, not to mention everything with Marisol and Kim and Christopher - Buck has been a solid, steady presence, never abandoning Eddie when it all gets to be too much.
No, when everything gets overwhelming, that’s when Buck burrows in like a tick, and the comfort he brings is worth far more than the effort it would take to dig him out - not that Eddie would ever want to in the first place.
Buck and El Paso and Christopher have been on an almost non-stop loop in his mind, thoughts bouncing around uselessly in his brain as he grabs his cell phone from where he left it on the table in the loft when the tones dropped earlier.
There are a few spam e-mails at the top, and he feels a familiar spike of annoyance at the sight - he never signed up to receive these stupid advertisement emails, why does he have to be the one to go through and unsubscribe to all of them? It’s stupid, that’s all he’s saying - as well as a few texts from the 118-group chat, somebody trying to get a day off, but at the bottom, there’s a text that came in 23 minutes ago that makes his stomach fall to his ass and static buzz in his ears.
Christopher: Missed Call
Christopher: Dad, I thjnk somethngs wrng
Christopher: Dad pleas
He knows his son is hardly one to take the time to spell everything out when he could use simple acronyms, but this isn’t that. These are misspellings, and the lack of emojis - from the kid who once spoke to him solely in the little suckers while he was on shift one day - has him immediately pulling up his son’s contact information and hitting dial, chewing on his inner cheek as he waits for the call to connect.
When it doesn’t, he hangs up and calls his parents - first his mom, then his dad, and when neither of them answer, he really starts to panic, hitting redial every time their voicemails pick up instead.
“Eddie, what’s wrong?”
Buck’s voice has his head snapping up, blinking away the dark spots that had begun to dance at the edges of his vision without his notice, drawing in a breath when he registers the ache in his lungs means he’d neglected to do that for too long.
He looks into Buck’s eyes and raises his phone in evidence, even though Buck’s gaze never leaves his. “Chris, he- I don’t know, he sent me a text that said something’s wrong and it’s all misspelled and- and he’s not answering his phone, and neither are my parents and I don’t-”
Concern flares in Buck’s eyes as he takes a closer look at Eddie’s phone, only seeing the call log full of red from all the unanswered calls before he’s pulling his cell out to try his own call and then swipes to his Find My Friends app when it also goes unanswered, Eddie peering desperately over his shoulder.
Maybe it’s just a shitty prank? Maybe Chris meant something silly - like Eddie’s parents got him something meant for a younger kid, or they made something crazy to eat, but it’s just past noon on a Thursday, which means he should still be in school.
His heart jumps into his throat when Christopher’s phone finally shows up at Las Palmas - a fucking hospital.
Eddie lets out a breath that sounds more like a choked wheeze than an exhale, a vise suddenly wrapped around his throat, but Buck is already pushing him to the stairs, hand warm where it spans the space between his shoulder blades, the touch drawing him back into his own body. “Go. I’ll tell Bobby and find you a flight and send the contact info for the hospital, just get your ass to the airport,” he orders, and Eddie is already moving, mindlessly hauling ass down the stairs, barely seeing anybody he passes.
His phone pings once he pulls out of the 118’s parking lot, and he checks the text when he gets to a red light.
It’s Buck with the number to the hospital, as promised, and Eddie automatically dials, the call connected to the speaker in his truck.
“Los Palmas Medical Center, this is Cindy speaking, how can I help you?”
Eddie barely lets her finish before he’s talking, leaning forward in his seat like he can make traffic move faster by sheer will. “My name is Eddie Diaz; I missed a call and a text from my son and his phone is saying he’s there at your hospital.” He rattles off Christopher's name and information, hearing the sound of keys clacking in the background.
“Okay, Christopher Diaz, yes, admitted about 15 minutes ago. I’m sorry, what did you say your relationship to the boy is?”
“I’m his father.”
There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the phone before Cindy comes back, a hesitant tone to her voice. “I’m sorry, there was an assumption that the couple with him were his guardians,” she prods, and Eddie tries so hard to ignore the rush of anger that her words bring.
Just because there’s a couple there, doesn’t mean that they’re his parents. They could be parents of Christopher’s friends or something, an innocent mistake.
He’s not sure he actually believes that, but he needs to be in control right now, and he can’t do that if he’s contemplating murdering his own parents for deliberately leaving him out of the loop of his son’s health and well-being.
“No, he’s been visiting my parents, but I have full custody. After me, in terms of his care, is Evan Buckley; both of our contact information should be in his medical records.”
He hears more clicking and tapping, and then a small triumphant noise. “Ah, yes okay, I see that now,” she confirms.
“Okay, good. Can you tell me what’s going on with him?” A horn blares behind him as he speeds around a car that’s driving far too slow to travel on a highway, but he ignores it.
“He came in with abdominal pain and a fever, and we were told that he threw up prior to his admittance. We’re still waiting on a room to open up to examine him, so we don’t know exactly what’s going on just yet,” she shares, and Eddie runs through the symptoms in his head, cursing the conclusion he comes to.
It sounds like it could be his appendix - which means surgery.
“Okay, okay, okay. Okay,” he mumbles, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his thoughts, leaning a little heavier on the gas pedal. “Okay, I’m on my way to the airport right now to get there, so if you need any decisions made for his care and you can’t reach me, then call Buc-Evan. Evan Buckley has my permission to make any decisions pertaining to Christopher’s care,” he informs her.
“I will make a note to contact you or Mr. Buckley for any decisions,” she promises, her voice a sort of put-upon calm that he recognizes all too well; it’s one all first responders perfect early-on when talking to panicked patients to try and help them calm down, and he tries not to be annoyed that it works. “Get here safe, Mr. Diaz, we’ll see you soon.”
The call ends when he’s only minutes away from the airport, and he hears his phone go off again a few times, but he waits until he’s waiting in the line to get into the airport.
There are a few texts from the 118, all telling them to let him know if they can help him in any way, and he swipes them away, making a mental note to thank them all later.
Buck’s is also in the midst of the well-meaning messages, information for a flight that leaves shortly.
It’s going to be tight, but he should have just enough time to catch the shuttle from long-term parking and get through security. The sooner he can get to his son, the better.
–
He’s panting by the time he takes his seat on the plane, thankful that his job keeps him in good shape for the practical obstacle course he ran to get to his gate on time.
Of course, the fact that he didn’t have any luggage or carry-ons certainly helped him get through; he didn’t even think to grab his bag from his locker before he left, which means he doesn’t have so much as a phone charger or a change of clothes - still clad in his dark LAFD uniform - but that’s a problem for later.
Once settled in his seat, he texts Buck to let him know that he boarded in time, as well as the update from the hospital, giving him warning that they’ll reach out to him if they can’t get ahold of Eddie.
It doesn’t even occur to Eddie that Buck is still at work and might not be able to answer his phone. He knows that Chris will be Buck’s priority, just like he’s Eddie’s, and that the only reason he’s not in the seat beside Eddie is because there’s no way Bobby could lose both of them.
Besides, there’s only a couple hours left on their shift, so barring any last-minute call, Buck should be easily reachable.
None of that crosses his mind, because it’s not something he needs to think about. He knows, in his gut, down to his bones, that Buck will be there when Eddie needs him; he doesn’t think about the way his lungs fill with oxygen either, it’s all automatic actions.
By the time they’re asking everyone to turn their phones off and buckle in, he hasn’t heard from the hospital or his parents, despite the fact that it’s been plenty long enough that they should have been informed and getting back to him if they were going to.
He spends the next two hours bouncing his leg so ferociously that his seat-neighbor spends the last 45 minutes drilling holes in the side of his head, and Eddie can’t even blame the guy; he’d find it pretty annoying too. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he can stop.
By the time they disembark, Eddie’s hands are red and raw from how roughly he’d been twisting them over and over and over again, trying to expel the growing anxious energy.
He switches his phone back on and calls an Uber, moving under the signage posted for people waiting on ride-shares, pleased when his car pulls up almost as soon as he makes his way out to the crowd.
There’s a text from Buck asking him to call as soon as he’s landed, so Eddie does that now, chewing on his thumbnail as the phone rings one time before Buck picks up.
“The hospital called about 20 minutes ago; they were finally able to get him seen and scanned and you were right - it’s appendicitis. They called me to okay an emergency surgery, which I obviously did. Also, uhm-”
The way he trails off - like he’s scared to say whatever he’s thinking next - only has Eddie’s worry rising. “Spit it out, Buck,” he demands, too stressed to temper his words the way he normally would.
“They confirmed that it was your parents that brought him in and have been with him the whole time,” Buck admits in a rush. Eddie closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the back of his seat, grinding his teeth to try and bite back the expletives he wants to let loose at the confirmation that his parents truly were deliberately shutting him out.
He gets not knowing what’s going on right away and not wanting to worry him for nothing, but it’s not like he made them reach out. All they had to do was answer one of his numerous calls and tell him that Chris was in the hospital, and they’d call him with updates when they got them, but no. He had to call the fucking hospital because he can’t even trust his own parents to-
He cuts that thought off before it can finish. Not because it’s untrue, but because he’s about to be face-to-face with them in just a few minutes and with Chris hurt, he needs to keep it together.
Buck is quiet on the other end of the phone, simply breathing and letting Eddie use it as a guide to calm down, and it works. It always works. “I let Cindy know it was okay to fill them in on what was going on; I figured that would make it easier on everyone, but that’s it.”
“Okay,” he says finally, opening his eyes and peeking out the window, watching the city fly by. “Thanks for telling me. I think I saw a text from them come in when I was ordering an Uber, so I’m sure I’ll be hearing their thoughts on that soon enough,” he grimaces, the exhaustion clear in his voice. He wasn’t even that tired earlier, but the stress of Chris’ text and the travel and now the thought of dealing with his parents, he’s suddenly drained. He needs a nap, but he knows it’s going to be a long while before he sees the back of his eyelids.
“Just,” Buck starts, and then stops, and Eddie can practically see his face in his mind, knows he’s probably chewing on his bottom lip, forehead creased, debating whether he’s overstepping or not.
“Just what, Buck?”
“You’re the best dad, Eddie,” Buck finally says slowly, like he’s handpicking each word for maximum impact. “You are the best choice for Christopher, and he obviously wanted you, or else he wouldn’t have texted. Something was wrong, and he called you. He loves you, and nobody loves him or is better for him than you. Don’t let them try to convince you otherwise.”
The words have tears prickling at Eddie’s eyes, and he feels undeserving of Buck’s unrelenting faith in him. Even through everything, Buck has maintained that Chris would never be better off with his grandparents long-term, that Eddie was the best option, and swore that Chris would eventually come home, that he wanted to come home.
He could never let himself believe that - any of it - but he figures that’s why he and Buck fit together so well - they balance each other out well.
“I’ll try,” he promises with a sniffle, because that’s the best he can do right now. His parents never fail to leave him feeling like 2-feet tall every single time, and especially since everything that happened over the summer.
It’s like he confirmed every single shitty thing they’ve ever thought about him in one fell swoop, and he hates to compare his own parents to vultures, but they certainly had no shame picking over the carcass of the life he’d blown up so spectacularly, or the fractured relationship with his son.
Buck’s right though, that Chris reached out to him. They’d been getting better about talking but only really during scheduled times. This was different.
This was his son in pain and distress and calling out for him , and he clings to the tendrils of hope that start to grow in his chest at the reminder.
He sees the signs indicating that the hospital is one mile ahead, and he lets out a slow breath. “Okay, I’m almost there. I need to text my parents back, but I’ll keep you updated.”
“Good. Thank you. Eddie, I-”
He waits for Buck to continue, to finish, but he doesn’t. “You what?”
He hears a muffled frustrated groan - one that he thinks is not actually meant for him - before Buck responds. “Nothing. I’ll see you soon,” he says lamely, and Eddie feels like he was just handed a consolation prize, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to wonder why right now, to try and figure out what Buck might have wanted to say instead, so he lets it go, returning the sentiment and ending the call before scrolling back to his texts.
Mom: Edmundo, call me asap.
Mom: Missed Call (7)
Dad: Missed Call (2)
Dad: Please call your mother or me as soon as you can.
There’s several missed calls and texts with similar wording, but his driver is pulling up to the front doors of the hospital, so he sends off a quick See you in a minute text and climbs out.
Buck had passed along Chris’ room number, so he makes his way there with a single mindedness - Christopher is all that matters, everything else is just noise that fades into the background, like a dull buzz.
He finally gets to the correct door and pushes it open carefully.
His son is laying in a hospital bed, pale and flushed with fever, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, but he’s still the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen in his whole life.
“Eddie?!”
He thinks that’s his dad, but he ignores it, because Chris looks up at his arrival, eyes growing wide with tears that slip down his face, arms stretched out for him, and a whimpered, “ Dad” falling from his lips, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate.
He strides across the room and holds his baby close to his chest, rubbing his back and whispering into his hair. “ Christopher, oh m ijo, it’s okay. You’re okay, Dad’s here. I’ve got you baby, I’m right here. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you so much, you’re going to be just fine,” he promises softly.
“It hurts so bad,” Chris cries, and Eddie hums, rubbing his back to try and settle him.
‘I know it does, but you’re so brave, and the doctors are going to take really good care of you, yeah? They’ll do a quick little surgery, and you’ll sleep for a little while, and then you’ll wake up and be all better, and I’ll be here the whole time.”
“You- you won’t leave?”
The question breaks his heart, and he squeezes his kid even tighter. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises fiercely, blinking his tears away at the way Chris’ hands grip his shirt.
Eddie’s fully aware that Chris is only being this tactile because he’s in so much pain and his guard is down, but he’s man enough to admit that he’s reveling in it anyway.
He knew that Chris was growing up, knew that he was missing it, but he’ll always be Eddie’s baby. He thought he’d gotten this for the last time, and he couldn’t even remember when it happened, couldn’t remember the last time Chris crawled in his bed after a nightmare and trusted his dad to chase away the monsters. Couldn’t remember the last time he curled up next to him on the couch and binged a series of some mindless show because he wanted to be close.
It’s a little bittersweet, sure, but it mostly just makes Eddie commit this moment to memory. The weight of Chris against his chest, the damp curls pressed against his cheek and the growing wet spot at his shoulder. He memorizes the feeling of Chris’ small hands - bigger than they were before, but still so small - twisting and tugging at his shirt. It’s coming untucked but he can’t find it within himself to give a damn.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, curled over his son like he can use his body as a shield against the outside world, but Chris does settle eventually, dozing lightly against his chest.
He can’t sleep in that much pain, but it wars with how much he’s exhausted himself crying, and Eddie keeps murmuring softly to him, keeps rubbing his back and combing his fingers through his messy curls, hoping to give him even a fraction of comfort.
It’s not long after he arrives that a small group of people in scrubs filter into the room.
There’s a woman in her 50’s that takes the lead, walking up to Eddie on the other side of the bed. “Hi, my name is Dr. Lane, I’ll be the one performing Christopher’s surgery tonight.”
He introduces himself, pointing vaguely over to where his parents last were, and she nods at them before focusing back on him and going over the diagnosis and the plan for the surgery.
He hangs onto every word, asking how long the surgery will take, the possibility for complications and what to expect there, and anything else he can think of, cursing that he doesn’t have Clipboard Buck here beside him.
Eddie’s good at this stuff, has been through surgery with Chris before because of his CP, but he hasn’t been doing it alone in a while, and he wishes more than anything that he had Buck at his back, just in case he forgot something.
They have to do the surgery as quickly as possible to avoid further damage to Christopher’s organs, so Eddie forces himself to stand and allow the nurses to get the wheels of the bed unlocked and ready to move.
They’re kind enough to allow him to walk with them towards the operating room, Chris’ hand clenched in his the whole way. “I’ll be right here when you’re done,” he promises one last time, kissing the crown of his head once more before they cross into the corridor where only hospital staff are allowed.
He stands there, watching them through the small Plexi-glass window in the door until they disappear from view, his body sagging, suddenly feeling like he’s a hundred years old.
He rubs his hands over his face roughly, exhausted, before digging his phone out and sending Buck a text to let him know that they just took Chris back.
He doesn’t get a response right away but thinks nothing of it. Buck could be sleeping or showering or cooking or working or a million different other things. He’ll read it eventually and that’s what matters.
Once the text is sent, Eddie pauses, trying to decide on his next steps.
He really doesn’t want to get into it with his parents right now, doesn’t really even want to see them after learning that they were deliberately keeping important information about Christopher from him, but he also doesn’t think he’s going to get away with hiding from them either.
Plus, they’ll take Chris back to his room after the surgery, and there’s no way Eddie’s going to break his promise to be there when his son wakes up just because Eddie’s pissed at his parents.
So, he turns and makes his way back down the hallway to the room he'd just left, each step so heavy it feels like his feet are encased in concrete, like he’s trying to walk through quicksand instead of over bright linoleum.
All too soon, he’s back at the room, his parents sitting in the individual seats beside where the bed was, so Eddie plops down in the nook in the corner, already planning on sleeping there tonight.
The covering isn’t thick or necessarily all that comfortable, but he’s slept in far worse places.
The room is deadly quiet for a few minutes, and then his father breaks the silence. “He hadn’t cried before you got here; not like that, I mean,” he shares thoughtfully, and Eddie hums, swallowing down the self-satisfied retort about how his kid was never scared to cry in front of him, which couldn’t be said for Eddie and Ramon.
That would definitely not be productive, so instead, he says nothing, and the quiet falls again.
“Eddie, what are you doing here?” His mom asks eventually, the question sounding far more like an accusation than anything, and he sighs, swinging his legs up to stretch out in front of him atop the mattress, clasping his hands in his lap and closing his eyes, back pressed firmly against the wall.
“I don’t think you want to get into that right now, Mom,” he warns neutrally.
“And why is that?” She counters frustratedly.
“Well, because then we would have to have the conversation about how I called both of you nearly a dozen times after receiving a text from my son saying that something was wrong, and neither one of you could be bothered to answer your phones to share the fact that you’d taken him to the hospital. We’d have to talk about the fact that neither one of you seemed all that willing to tell me that my son was hurt, despite the fact that you have no rights over him except for what I allow you to have, and that does not include decisions about his health,” he states, opening heavy eyes to stare at his mom, noting the way her nostrils have flared at the reminder that Eddie never gave them any legal power over Christopher - a decision they’ve talked about at length before. “We’d have to have a conversation about why you didn’t reach out until your lie was uncovered and the power to make the decisions you had no right to make in the first place was taken out of your hands and put back where it belonged, and then suddenly, it was an emergency. And well, if we’re talking about that, then we might as well also talk about you making decisions about mine and my son’s life that are not, and have never been, yours to make. Is that a conversation you want to have right now?”
“Well, I’m so sorry that I was trying to take care of my grandchild,” his mom snarks. “I didn’t realize that was so awful of me.”
He sighs again, so used to - and so fucking tired of- her trying to turn every situation around to make herself the victim instead of the one in the wrong, no matter what she’s done. “It’s not, but your constant attempts to cut me out of his life? Yeah, that’s not great,” he shoots back.
He knows he should be better, that he shouldn’t fall into her traps and play her game, but he’s tired and he’s nervous and he doesn’t really want to be in this fucking room with them in this fucking city, but he’d do anything for Chris, and that includes sitting through awkward, awful conversations with his parents.
His mom gasps, clearly offended that Eddie could ever say such a thing, but his dad rests a hand on her arm, drawing her attention, and shakes his head. “This is a very stressful time. Let’s not say something we’ll come to regret later.”
She sniffs, indignant, but listens, settling back into her seat and pulling a book out of her purse to read instead, and Eddie’s glad the shots about how awful of a parent he is have been delayed for at least a little bit longer.
He pulls his phone out, frowning when Buck hasn’t replied or even reacted to his latest text, but he tries not to let it get to him. Instead, he reads through the messages he’d been ignoring in his haste to get to the hospital, updating Pepa and Abuela and his sisters, as well as the 118.
He knows Buck has probably done that already, but he also remembers sitting in the waiting room for news on Denny on Halloween, and the search they had for Harry a few years back.
They’re a family, and when one of them hurts, they all feel it.
–
He finally gets a response back from Buck, a short text acknowledging his update and telling Eddie to give Chris a hug from him once he gets out of surgery.
It’s also about that time that Abuela shows up, and Eddie falls into her embrace, closing his eyes against the sting of just how badly he’s missed her.
He knows her moving to Texas was best for her, with her age and COVID at the time, but fuck, he’s missed seeing her.
She’s always been on his side, no matter what, and he’s missed having her around.
His parents leave to go grab food for everyone - though not without some pointed prodding from his abuela.
They finally leave and Eddie slumps in the chair, his next breath coming just a little bit easier now than it had before. He won’t truly be able to relax until Chris is out of surgery, but getting a break from the oppressive presence of his parents is a nice little break.
He’s not sure how in the hell he’s going to manage being around them more often if he does end up moving back, but he’ll have to figure something out.
He tells himself it won’t be the same, because he’ll have his own house and be working, it’s not like he’s going to move back into their house and be unemployed and around them 24/7, so it’ll be fine.
It will have to be. If Chris wants to stay in Texas, Eddie will make it work.
He’s done missing out on his son’s life, and it’s been made abundantly clear that he can’t trust his parents to keep him updated.
That’s not exactly news, given how many new hobbies Christopher had that Eddie hadn’t heard a peep about until his son let them slip during their weekly calls - like his parents taking a picture and sending him a small text message is comparable to requesting they give up a fucking kidney, but whatever.
He avoids looking at them when they come back with bags of takeout, just stares at the floor when he’s not watching the door, waiting for them to move Chris back in.
He jumps up when they finally do a little while after they all finish eating, moving out of the way to let them wheel his still-sleeping son back in.
Dr. Lane tells him that everything went well, there were no complications and that he should wake up soon.
She promises that a nurse will pass along instructions for post-surgery care upon his discharge - which should probably be in the morning, she says - and then she leaves, and Eddie grabs the seat by his son’s bed before anybody else can take it.
There’s nothing they can do but sit and wait for the surgery anesthetic to wear off and Chris to wake up.
He’s worried that Chris be as relieved to see him when he wakes up as he was when Eddie first arrived - with the pain that drove him to seek Eddie out now gone - so he keeps his hands to himself, letting only his eyes roam every inch of his sweet, sleeping face until he awakens and he can figure out where he stands.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Chris is rousing, brows furrowed as he fights through the haze of the drugs. “Dad?” He calls, and Eddie’s self-control snaps, leaning forward to brush his hair out of his face. “Yeah, buddy, I’m here. You did so good, mijo,” he praises softly, heart near bursting with love as Chris blinks bleary-eyed up at him, pressing into his hand before his eyes fall shut again.
He came out of surgery and called for Eddie; that has to mean something, right? Chris remembered that Eddie promised he’d be there, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t break that promise, he wanted his dad.
The tiny sprigs of hope that rooted in Eddie’s lungs earlier grow a little bit taller, and he can’t find it within him to cut them down - not when Chris is laying in front of him, pressing into his touch like a cat, not when he reached out to Eddie over and over again, when he was so sure those days were over.
He doesn’t even bother blinking tears away this time, letting them fall as his baby boy slowly wakes up, the sleep clearing from his eyes little by little the longer he’s awake. The effects will linger for a little while, but he should be back to normal soon enough.
“There you are,” Eddie grins, getting an annoyed huff in return, but the small smile takes the sting out of it. “How you feeling, bud?”
“Fuzzy,” is Chris’ response, and Eddie chuckles, his thumb tracing over the shell of Chris’ ear.
“That would be the drugs,” he quips, getting a sleepy laugh in return.
“Hey dad?” Chris calls, and Eddie hums in response. “Why can’t I come home yet?”
Eddie freezes, limbs locked in place and the oxygen suddenly ice in his lungs. He hears a gasp behind him, and his mom starts to say something, but he ignores her. “What- what do you mean ?”
“You just left me in Texas for months, and every time I asked, they- they said you weren’t ready for me to come home yet but I- I want to come home. I- I miss all my friends and Buck, and I miss you, and-”
The thick sound of tears in Chris’ voice and the sheen of tears in his eyes has Eddie watching on in horror, but he can’t let his son believe this nonsense for even a second longer.
“ Mijo, no. Christopher, I’ve been ready for you to come home since the second you left. I’ve missed you every single day and so has Buck and Tia Pepa and everyone. Bud, I’ve been waiting for you to call and say you’re ready to come home for months, but I thought you liked Texas?” He asks, mind whirring as he tries to piece together how in the hell they ended up here.
“It’s fine,” Chris agrees with a shrug, his mouth turned down. “Chess is fun, and I like the pool club, but there are pools back home, too, and all my friends are there. I didn’t- I didn’t want to go to school down here, but you- you seemed fine with it, so I guess I- I just thought you didn’t want me anymore,” he admits in a whisper, his voice smaller than Eddie’s heard in a long long time, and it feels like he swallowed a boulder.
He cradles his son’s face, forcing him to meet Eddie’s eyes so he knows how serious he is. “Christopher Diaz, you are the single best thing that has ever happened to me, okay? I love you more than anything in the whole world , buddy. There has never been a day in the entire time you were gone that I didn’t wish you were home with me instead,” he swears vehemently, shrugging off the hand that lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t know who it is, and he doesn’t care. If it’s not Christopher, he doesn’t need anybody else in this moment. “I have regretted every step that led me to the pain and hurt that I caused you, and if I could take it back, I would, I promise. There’s nothing on Earth that means more to me than you, okay?”
Chris nods, smiling softly, the wrinkles clearing from his forehead. “‘kay. Love you.”
Eddie leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to his son’s forehead. “I love you too, kid . We’ll talk more about this when you wake up, okay? Get some rest.”
Chris hums drowsily, head suddenly heavier in Eddie’s hands as he drifts off again.
Eddie watches him for a long minute, committing every detail to memory. He makes sure Chris is asleep before he turns to Abuela. “Can you sit with him for a minute?”
She nods, immediately filling the seat he vacated when he finally looks at his parents, an anger unlike anything he’s ever known spreading through his veins. “Outside. Now.”
He follows them out of the room and then leads them down the hall when they stop, not turning back until he’s reached a double set of doors that lead them outside.
He’s been in enough hospitals to know that yelling in the hallways is extremely frowned upon, and he can’t guarantee that he’ll be able to keep his temper in check.
He’s pretty sure that Buck’s the kind of friend that would help him bury a body or two, so at least he has that going for him.
“Can you please explain to me why my son has been told that he couldn’t come home yet, despite the fact that I told him I would come get him the second he was ready?” He questions in an icy voice.
His mom’s gaze darts to his dad, but that second of uncertainty is gone quickly and she draws her shoulders back. “Eddie, come on. Are you really going to stand there and try to say that you were capable of taking care of Christopher? After everything that happened with that woman, there was very clearly something deeper going on, and our priority is Christopher. We have to do what’s best for him,” she says, looking at him in a judgmental kind of pity that makes him want to bare his teeth.
“The only thing you have to do is listen to me, since it’s my son that you swept away with practically no warning. You are not his parent, I am. I am the one who decides what’s best for my son, and you had no right to tell him that he couldn’t come home yet. That is not up to you,” he snarls.
His parents share another glance and the hair on the back of his neck stands up, like his nervous system can tell something bad is coming. “What? What’s that look?”
His father sighs, grimacing slightly as he rests his hand on his mom’s back. “Edmundo, your mother and I have been talking, and we’re… concerned. Between your job and what happened this summer, with that woman who looked like Shannon, we,” he pauses again, looking to his mother, who nods encouragingly. There’s a glint in her eyes and it makes Eddie nauseous, but not nearly as sick as the words that come out of his father’s mouth next.
“We think it would be best if you left Christopher with us permanently.”
Static buzzes in his ears, body flashing hot and then ice cold, his lungs full of water instead of oxygen and he’s drowning.
Permanently permanently permanently.
Christopher should stay with us.
We’re the most stable thing he’s ever known.
Don’t drag him down with you.
We have to think about what’s best for Christopher.
Past and present blur in his head, and he wants to scream.
Of course they think that. Of course, they’re taking this awful situation as an opportunity to try and take his kid away. They failed the first time, but then Eddie fucked up, and they didn’t hesitate to swoop in and steal him away. Now, they’re doing everything they can to make it stick, to drive home the fact that he’ll never be enough.
There’s nothing he can do that will prove to them that he is worthy of their love and support; he will always be a failure to them.
It breaks his heart, but in seeing his relationship with his parents go up in flames that not even he can fight, he also finds that he doesn’t care what they think of him now.
If he’s going to be a failure, then God damn it, he’s not going to keep bending over backwards to try and please them.
If he’s the only one that’s going to take care of himself, then he’s going to do it his way.
“No,” he says simply. His hands are shaking with the adrenaline rushing through him, so he crosses his arms, trying to hide it.
“No?” His mother repeats, like she can’t believe him.
He’s not sure if it’s the refusal, or the lack of justification for his answer that throws her, but he can’t find it within himself to care anymore.
“No, you are not keeping Christopher permanently. No, you are not going to use my son as some kind of fucked up do-over kid because you couldn’t get it right the first time. No, you are not going to take credit for the amazing kind that I raised to make yourselves look better. No.”
“Edmundo! Don’t be rude, we’re just trying to do what’s best,” his father argues, and Eddie laughs - a hollow, cold kind of laugh.
“Oh yeah? For whom, Dad? Who are you trying to do what’s best for? Because it certainly isn’t me. You ostracizing me from my child isn’t good for me. Taking my son away from his father and the home he wants to be in and the family he’s missed sure as shit isn’t what’s best for him. The only people you’re looking after are yourselves, so spare me the bullshit. You’re not saving anybody,” he growls, rolling his eyes when his mother gasps in outrage.
“We’re not ostracizing you from Chris! Nobody said that you wouldn’t be able to visit!”
Eddie laughs again. “Oh, visit ! You’ll let me visit my own son! That’s so kind of you,” he snaps at his mother’s empty promise. “For how long? Because you hover over his shoulder every single time I want to talk to him on the phone, rushing him off for clubs or chess, never allowing us more than 15-minutes to have any kind of actual conversation. How long will I be allowed to visit my own son before you start limiting that too? Don’t stand there and bullshit me that you wouldn’t take him away from me for good when you’ve done everything in your power to make sure our relationship stays in tatters,” he accuses, stepping forward.
He hears a car door close but thinks nothing of it as his mom matches him. “Well, we wouldn’t have to if you would stop hurting him! You don’t have what it takes to raise Christopher, you never have, and you keep proving it. Don’t be angry with us because you’re not cut out to be a father!”
“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on here?” A familiar voice calls, and Eddie spins to find Buck standing there, eyes wide and shining in the darkness.
There are two duffle bags slung over his shoulder and Eddie has no idea how he’s here right now, in Texas, but he is, and he’s amazing and Eddie feels something in him settle for the first time all day because his partner is here, at his side, where he belongs.
“Chris wants to come home, has wanted to come home, apparently, but they’ve been telling him that I’m not ready because they think he should stay with them for good, because I’m not ‘cut out to be a father’,” he snarls in response, glaring at his parents as he recounts the fight for Buck’s sake.
“Now listen, this is a family matter, I don’t think we need to bring outsiders into it,” his mom tries, but Buck steps up beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder.
“Good luck,” he says simply, which gives all three Diazes a pause, confused.
“Chris hasn’t been in Texas for 6 months yet, which means you’ll have to file in California, since that’s his home. I’ve already reached out to a lawyer to go over what that process would look like, and have gotten statements from Christopher’s doctor’s, physical therapists and his school counselor, as well as the therapist Eddie took him to a few years ago. In addition to that, there are several people that are more than willing to give character statements on Eddie’s behalf. All of that in addition to the fact that you’ve been deliberately keeping Eddie and Christopher apart - which could be construed as parental alienation in the best of circumstances and kidnapping in the worst - I would say you have less than 0 chance of winning a custody case in a court of law; the only thing you would succeed in doing is ruining whatever shred of relationship you have left with your son and grandson, as well as any other family member that doesn’t support you trying to steal your own son’s child away from him.”
Buck says all of this calmly and evenly, like he’s reading from the phone book, not giving Eddie’s parents a proverbial smackdown.
Eddie doesn’t think Buck has ever looked hotter than right now, his blue eyes hot as he stares Helena and Ramon down, not giving them a single inch of leeway.
“If you can’t accept that, then like I said: good luck. Eddie has no shortage of people willing to stand by him and follow his lead, because he’s an amazing man, and an even better father, whether the two of you can recognize that or not. For the time being though, I think it would be best if you both left. You’ve done enough damage for one night, and I’m more than willing to call security if you don’t want to go on your own.”
Oh yeah. Eddie’s gonna marry this guy.
He’s going to take Buck home and do some absolutely filthy things to him. The fact that he was sure he was straight up until 5 minutes ago doesn’t mean shit - not when Buck is doing this, having Eddie’s back without a stutter.
Eddie got to tell his parents to fuck off, and when they wouldn’t accept it, then Buck came with logistics that they couldn’t argue against, and ooohhh yeah, that’s really doing it for Eddie.
His parents look at him, like they’re expecting him to stand up for them, but he just smirks and leans further into Buck’s side.
“We are not done talking about this, Eddie,” his mom warns, huffing as she stomps towards the parking lot, his father trailing pathetically after her.
He watches as they disappear into the parking lot, and only once they’re fully out of sight does Eddie turn to Buck in astonishment. “You- holy shit,” he exhales, searching Buck’s face and watching as the mask he’d donned during his speech to Eddie’s parents falls, his chin dipping to his chest and his ears grow red.
“Was that- I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, I totally get if you’re mad at me though, I know that was like, a lot , out of nowhere and you have your own way of dealing with your parents and everything but God, you deserve so much fucking better Eds. I hate the way they talk to you, the way they treat you, it’s such bullshit; you’re amazing and it blows my mind that they can’t see it and it pisses me off so bad.”
He’s rambling, his hands waving passionately in the air, and Eddie is.
Stunned. Smitten, maybe.
He’s obsessed.
He’s always known how supportive Buck was, but this is something else entirely, and Eddie’s seeing his best friend in a whole different light, or well, maybe he’s just finally allowing himself to realize the way he’s always looked at Buck, the role in which he’s placed Buck in his life.
His partner, his co-parent, his safe space.
He finally allows himself to realize this warm, steadying feeling that spreads through his chest and cradles every inch of his skin like a warm bath is love.
He’s in love with his best friend. Has been for a while, probably, but he’s finally seeing it.
“Did you really call a lawyer?” He asks, interrupting Buck’s frantic explanation.
His mouth shuts. Opens, and shuts again, blinking slowly as his brain shifts gears to answer questions instead of providing explanations.
“Uhm, yes, I did. I- I know that you didn’t want to take that step, that you didn’t want to add something that serious into the situation when it was messy enough, and I totally respected that, but I just- I don’t know, I figured it would be best to be prepared, just in case it got to that point. I mean, it’s someone that Hen recommended, and we didn’t do anything with it, it was purely a fact-finding mission.”
Eddie snorts at that and the seriousness with which Buck said that phrase, but he’s still talking. “But if you’re mad at me then I totally understand. However, before you send me back to LA with my tail between my legs, you should know that I brought you a bag. I realized you didn’t grab anything because you were in a hurry so there’s some toiletries and a couple changes of clothes, and also a charger. Oh, and I grabbed that book off your bedside table; you mentioned you were enjoying it, so I wanted to make sure that you had it. I wasn’t sure how long the hospital stay was going to be for this surgery, so I just grabbed a bunch of stuff,” he finishes lamely, awkwardly shrugging off the duffel bag that must have his stuff and handing it over.
“What’s in that one?” Eddie asks, jerking his chin towards the remaining bag.
“Oh, uhm,” Buck stutters, glancing at the bag in question as if surprised that Eddie paid it any attention. “It’s uh, well. I also grabbed some stuff for me, just in case. I know that it’s your family and you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you’ve mentioned how frigid it’s been with your parents and I- I just thought you might appreciate some back up. That’s all.”
Eddie bites down hard on his bottom lip, trying to hide his smile. “So, we’re off for the next four days and you figured you’d spend it in the hospital as a buffer between me and my parents?”
Buck shrugs, kicking at the ground with the tip of his boots. “Well. Yes. Y’know, I- I told you that I’d have your back. Figured this landed in that realm of best friend duties,” he mumbles, avoiding Eddie’s gaze.
“Hm,” Eddie hums, thoughtfully. “Buck, what were you going to say on the phone earlier?”
The question draws Buck’s eyes up to him, his forehead furrowed in confusion, definitely not something he’d been expecting. “Uhm, what?”
Eddie takes one step closer, putting himself firmly in Buck’s personal space, because he thinks they’re on the same page, thinks that maybe Buck was waiting on him or - more likely - was ignoring his own feelings to try and make a potential move back to Texas easier on Eddie.
They don’t have to worry about that now, so Eddie wants to know, wants to hear him say it. “Earlier, before I got to the hospital. You started to say something, but you stopped yourself. What was it?”
Eddie knows he’s hit the nail on the head when Buck’s head drops, his eyes squeezing shut like he’s embarrassed. “Eddie, we don’t- we don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s just- let’s go see Chris before he wakes up alone-”
“He’s not alone, Abuela is there, and he’s still coming off of the anesthesia. I think we have some time to talk about what you were going to say, why you did all of this for me when you could’ve just gone about your day.”
Buck groans, scrubbing his face with his hands before leaving them over his face, hiding.
Eddie’s practically vibrating with glee, just waiting for Buck to say it. He needs to know they’re on the same page, can’t chance it if they’re not.
“Eddie.”
“Buck.”
“Oh my God, okay, I’m in love with you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He explodes in motion, throwing his hands in the air before tugging on his curls and then gesturing wildly, all while Eddie grins through what is shaping up to be quite the monologue. “Listen, I know you’re straight and that you can’t control my feelings and that’s fine, I don’t need you to! You don’t have to do anything; they’re my feelings, I’ll deal with them. Just- please don’t shut me out. I can love you in an appropriate way, I won’t make you uncomfortable, I promise, just please don’t shut me out of your and Chris' life because I could not handle that. I can- I can be your best friend, I swear. God knows I’ve had feelings for you for nearly the entire time we’ve been friends, I can keep it up. I won’t ask for more than you’ve already given me. Just let me have your back and take care of you and Chris. That’s all I need.”
His eyes are wide and beseeching, wild in a way that Eddie doesn’t remember seeing, and it hurts a little that Buck would settle for less than he wanted - less than he deserved - because he doesn’t want to lose them.
Thankfully, that won’t be a problem, but damn, this boy needs some therapy.
“Buck,” Eddie calls gently, wrapping his fingers gently around his wrists and tugging him a step closer. “You’re not going to lose me or Christopher. Even if I didn’t return your feelings, you are far too important to us to lose. You’re our family, our Buck, and we need you just as badly as you need us.”
Buck nods, his lips pursed as his eyes grow glassy. “Good, that’s- good. Thank you, Eddie. I promise I- wait,” he pauses, the arguably most important part of Eddie’s words sinking in. “ If?”
He nods slowly, holding his breath as Buck puts the pieces together, searching Eddie’s eyes furiously to try and find any hint of a lie, and finding none. “Does- does that mean you-?”
He leaves the question unfinished, like he can’t even put it into words, like the sheer possibility that Eddie might love him back is unfathomable.
“Did I also fall in love with my best friend somewhere along the world’s most unplatonic relationship I’ve ever been in? Yes, Buck. I love you too,” he says with a smile, one that only grows when those blue eyes he loves get wider, a smile breaking shyly across pink lips as hands lift to cradle his face.
He leans into the touch, into the feeling of calloused skin against his jaw and the feel of Buck’s every breath puffing against his lips.
They stand there for a moment, Eddie’s hands falling to Buck’s waist, his own hand spanning across the warm heat of Buck’s body, but all too soon he wants more. “Buck, are you going to stand there and stare at me all night or will you please kiss-”
His snark is cut off by lips against his, and he smiles in triumph before sinking into the kiss, into the feeling of Buck’s lips sliding sweetly against his, gentle, like Eddie’s something that deserves to be handled with care, and he feels himself falling deeper into it.
He loses himself to the slick slide of lips and the curling softness of tongues and the wetness of Buck’s mouth, the headiness traveling directly to his bloodstream. He feels drunk, and safe, and he doesn’t think any kiss has been as important as this one.
When they break apart to catch their breath, he slips his arms further around Buck’s waist, curling himself firmly against Buck’s chest.
When Buck’s arms slide around him - one over his shoulders and the other along his back - in a warm, tight hug, it feels like the world settles again.
The air is pure, and his breathing is uninhibited for the first time all day, for the first time maybe ever.
El Paso moves on around them, car doors opening and closing, people passing them by on their way to and fro, but Eddie is grounded, held in place with his nose resting against Buck’s neck, breathing in his scent of body wash, sweat and Buck .
He melts further when a hand raises to the nape of his neck, fingers combing through the hair there.
God, he’s exhausted, could probably fall asleep right here right beside the entrance to the hospital, snuggling deeper into Buck’s hold.
He can’t understand why they don’t do this more often. He thinks it’s going to be a demand of his going forward; Buck must hold him in his big, warm arms against his soft chest for at least 10 hours a day. The logistics of that demand are not his problem, thank you very much.
He feels rumbling beneath his chin, and he’s not sure if he accidentally said that out loud, or if Buck is laughing at the way he’s trying to force himself further into his hold - like he could merge them into one being if he only tries hard enough.
There’s a hard kiss to his forehead, and then he arms that were holding him retreat. He lets out a grumble, tightening his own hold, but Buck distracts him with another slow kiss that melts his bones, and he can’t hold onto a single thought, let alone make his arms work.
“C’mon, let’s head back up to Christopher’s room. We can discuss logistics of bringing him home and I want to see Isabel before she goes home. I’ve missed her,” Buck urges, and Eddie sighs in faux exasperation, but pulls away, reaching out to tangle their fingers together, since there’s no way he’s letting Buck go now that he’s got him.
“Let’s go then. We can talk about how fucking awkward it’s going to be getting all of Chris’ stuff from the house since I told them they were shitty parents and you threated them with legal action,” he deadpans, grinning at Buck’s guffaw and his launch into why both of those things were well deserved and if they didn’t want to “find out”, then maybe they shouldn’t have “fucked around.”
He’s more than happy to listen to his rant all the way back to Chris’ room, sure that Buck could be speaking gibberish, and he’d still listen, if only to hear his voice.
Chris is awake when they get back, chatting softly with Abuela, and seeing both his and Buck’s reaction when they see each other in person for the first time in over 3 months is enough to bring tears back to Eddie’s eyes as Buck holds Chris just as tenderly as he himself had earlier.
Buck manages to talk abuela into staying for a little while longer before he has to grab food from somewhere nearby - since the stupid, wonderful man hadn’t paused in his mission to get to Texas to eat, meaning he’s not eaten since the lunch that kept getting interrupted at the firehouse - loudly promising to sneak Christopher an ice cream cone if he can keep it a secret.
He doesn’t kiss Eddie before he leaves - since they haven’t told Chris about it yet or talked in depth about what they are - but his heated gaze is practically physical as it slides over his skin.
–
When it’s time for bed that night, he and Buck fit onto the daybed like puzzle pieces, every inch of them pressed together, and as uncomfortable as the limited space is, Eddie would prefer to never spend another night any further apart than this.
They talk softly once Chris falls asleep, trading nothing more heated than chaste kisses as they bounce from topic to topic; travel back to LA and whether they should ship Chris’ stuff or try to fit it in bags on the plane, whether they should ask abuela to come with them as a buffer when they get everything packed, whether Chris should go with them - because Eddie’s pretty sure his parents aren’t going to be happy about him taking Chris home, despite Buck’s borderline threats earlier, and Eddie doesn’t really want him exposed to what he can only assumed is going to be an encore from tonight - as well as living arrangements once they get home and who they’re going to tell and when and where.
Eddie doesn’t remember falling asleep that night, drifting into a peaceful sleep held securely in Buck’s arms (he’s trying to make up for lost time), but when the new day greets them, they have a plan, next steps for the rest of their lives, and with Chris groaning good-naturedly at them for being gross when they tell him that they’re together now, Eddie feels like his heart is going to explode.
He’s never felt this much joy at once, and he’s not quite sure what to do with it, but damn it, he’s going to learn.
He’s never going to deny himself of it again, not when it looks like his two favorite people in the entire world, smiling at him in the golden rays of morning sun.