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“Are you planning on becoming an astronaut now?”
“Ha. Ha,” Eddie drawls dryly, hair spiked at odd angles from pulling at it in frustration. He’s combing through party supplies online, wondering for the fifteenth time how planning a party for a ten-year-old could be so expensive. For this price you would think he was sending him to Space Camp.
Should he send him to Space Camp?
He makes a note to look into their accommodations for kids like Chris. If he took a few extra shifts and shuffled a few bills around, he could probably—
“Earth to Eddie. Earth to Eddiiiiiie,” Buck calls, waving his hand in front of his laptop screen. “You are looking way too serious for whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m planning Chris’ birthday.”
“What are you talking about? He wants a lego party. I already have his present.”
“He wanted a lego party. Now he wants a space party. Apparently they watched Wall-E in school,” he sighs, adding a few more things to his cart before he can look at the total. He knows this is excessive, but he has so many birthdays to make up for. Birthdays where he could only wave from behind a screen and hope the reception held up.
Shannon had always been better at this stuff. She’d be doing better. Even when she was gone she always managed to send the perfect present. She wouldn’t even be there and she’d know exactly what to do. He owes it to her and Chris to at least try to live up to what should have been.
“I’ve got to get him a new present,” Buck laments, looking like he was holding himself back from grabbing Eddie’s laptop to start his own search.
“You said you already got him something. That will be fine. You know he’ll love whatever you get him.”
“Eddie, I have to get him something on theme. I’m not a monster.” Eddie snorts softly in response, knowing it’s a lost cause. He is pretty sure a ten-year-old (and how was he already turning ten?) isn’t going to get too wrapped up in a theme, but he knows better than to get in Buck’s way when he has made up his mind.
“When did we decide birthday parties should have themes? The theme is presents and cake. That’s it. Now there has to be decorations, and food, and invitations and entertainment.” Eddie can hear himself venturing into the land of hysterical but it’s so much work and when is he supposed to get this done when he’s either at work or with his kid?
“Breathe, Eds,” Buck urges, mimicking deep breaths for him to follow. “I can totally help you with this!”
He should say no. He is Chris’ father and he can organize a damn party without dragging in his single best friend who surely has so much better to do. But he’s offering and Buck really is good at grand gestures and it’s for Chris. Buck won’t let him fuck it up.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Buck says, bouncing with excitement as if Eddie has given him a present instead of saddling him with a whole bunch of work. “Besides, I know the trick to organizing an outer space party...You planet.”
The pun lands like a bucket of ice to his face.
Eddie has just enough time to see Buck’s smug expression before he bangs his forehead against the keyboard.
* * *
Buck is apparently a genius when it comes to party planning.
He doesn’t know why he’s surprised.
He has thought of things Eddie never would have even considered, which would leave him feeling inadequate and useless if he wasn’t too busy being grateful. Buck has even managed to score them some serious discounts thanks to his enthusiasm and charm.
He’s brilliant, but he can’t wrap for shit.
“Seriously, why are you so good at this,” Buck asks, clearly annoyed at the precision and speed at which Eddie can wrap.
“I, unlike you, have patience,” Eddie replies, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sly smile. “It’s all about angles. You know, math.” He also had a seasonal job wrapping presents for a department store when he was fifteen, but that was neither here nor there. “You know it’s customary to only buy one present.”
He wants to be annoyed at the pile of presents Buck brought over, but it’s hard to hold Buck’s love for his son against him. Chris is a good kid. Eddie might not be able to spoil him, but was it so bad if someone else did just a little?
“The lego stuff was purchased before he decided on space,” Buck explains, as if gift receipts weren’t a thing. “Maybe we can give him one a day leading up to his party. Birthday weeks are a thing!”
“A white thing,” he mumbles, smirking as Buck flips the bird.
“Whatever, you’re just jealous because you only got one present on your birthday.”
“Was that a present? Based on the wrapping I figured you had found it in the trash.” Eddie ducks the ball of leftover paper Buck sends sailing his way.
“You’re hilarious. Really. I don’t know why people would possibly refer to you as the grumpy one.” Buck sulks slightly as Eddie finishes wrapping another present, the paper perfectly flat and aligned. Eddie must be missing something because suddenly the younger man is smiling to himself like a madman and Eddie knows there is a joke he must be missing.
“Hey Eddie, want to hear a joke about paper? Never mind, it’s tearable.”
“Get out of my house.”
* * *
Eddie’s head is ringing with the sounds of shrieking, but it’s hard to mind when his son’s laughter is ringing through the house.
As he looks around at the people filling his house and spilling into the backyard he can’t help but think he has stumbled into a daydream. This is what he had always imagined for his son and for a brief moment it’s theirs.
All thanks to the giant man-child with three kids hanging off of him to the delight of the children he is pretending to chase.
He pauses for a moment to watch the scene, eager to preserve this memory for the harder days. It’s not long before he gets back to work, determined to make everything run smoothly. He’s doing his best to be a good host; spending the last forty-five minutes in a never ending dance of filling up drinks and throwing away trash.
“You know, Eddie, you are allowed to actually enjoy the party,” comes a familiar voice. He turns to see Buck, still wearing that ridiculous astronaut costume with his son wrapped in his arms like a little mini-me in a matching outfit.
“Yeah dad, come play!”
“I’m just making sure everyone is taken care of, mijo. Besides, I’m not near as much fun as all your friends. Ask Buck,” he points out, offering a self-deprecating grin as he moves to the kitchen to grab yet another trash bag.
“I think your dad is being too hard on himself. What do you think?”
“Yeah, you’re being too hard on yourself! I want you to enjoy my party too. Please? It’s my birthday.” How the hell was he supposed to say no to that?
“Anything you want, superman,” Eddie acquiesces, feeling guilty for taking off his host hat in a house full of people, but wanting more than anything to spend time with his son.
“I want to play a game!”
“Okay, what game?”
Christopher’s nose scrunches up in concentration, clearly weighing a difficult decision. “I don’t know. What game should we play, Buck?”
“Well,” Buck begins slowly, lowering his voice as if to share a state secret. “I know of one and it’s so much fun, but no, no, I swore it off years ago.” He’s got that shit-eating grin and Eddie knows whatever he’s about to say he’s going to hate it.
“Why did you stop,” Chris asks seriously, looking at Buck as if he held the secret to the universe itself.
“Well you see, Chris, I was addicted to the hokey pokey.”
That smile. That tone. Oh no. No, no, no, not again.
“Don’t—”
“But I turned myself around.”
A silence falls between them right before Chris throws his head back with a howl of laughter. Soon he’s begging to be let down, wanting nothing more than to share Buck’s joke with everyone. Buck taught his son a pun. His son likes pun.
Eddie shoots him his most menacing glare. “I despise you.”
Buck just laughs. “You love me.”
Yeah, he’s pretty sure he does.
* * *
“Did you have a good birthday, mijo,” he asks, tucking Christopher into bed. He’s quickly becoming too old for this, maybe already is, but if Chris minds he doesn’t say.
“I had the best birthday,” he sighs dreamily, small arms wrapping around his neck as he holds him close. “I love you, dad.”
“I love you too, kiddo.” He kisses his forehead, silently wondering if this is the last birthday he’ll let him do this. He gives him another quick kiss, just in case, moving to turn off the lamp before gently closing the door behind him.
He knows what awaits him: a house of chaos in need of tidying. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep until it’s done. He has always needed things in their proper place, a childhood habit reinforced to the extreme in the army.
“What are you still doing here,” he asks before he thinks, startled to find Buck picking up paper plates in the living room.
“You didn’t really think I’d leave you with all of this?”
“Buck, you don’t have to do this. You already helped set up and kept the kids occupied all day. You’ve done more than enough.” More than he can possibly repay him for.
“I don’t mind,” Buck shrugs, clearly determined to help no matter how Eddie protests. He pushes his guilt aside, thankful once again for the help Buck offers so freely. “I think it turned out pretty good.”
Eddie can’t help but look at him like he has grown a second head. “Pretty good? Buck, this party blew his little mind. He is going to be talking about it for years. I seriously couldn’t have done it without you. I can’t thank you enough.”
Buck preens under the praise, finding a renewed source of energy as he continues putting things away.
“It was pretty awesome, wasn’t it,” Buck boasts, clearly pleased with himself.
They fall into a comfortable silence and it almost feels—
Right, he supposes. Like Buck was meant to be here. Like this party was theirs; all three of them.
He must drift off there because Buck is looking at him with a pinched look on his face.
“Everything alright there, Buck?”
“Hmm?”
“You look like you smelled something bad.”
Buck flusters slightly and Eddie can’t help but look at him in amusement.
“Oh, no..It’s just, well, to be honest a book fell on my head this morning.”
“Dios,” Eddie bites, rushing over to him, hands cupping his face and turning it, looking for the mark that he must have missed. With Buck’s luck he has probably had a concussion all day. Why didn’t he say anything? Why hadn’t he noticed anything? He steps closer, checking his pupils for reactiveness.
“Eddie, Eddie, it’s okay. I only have my shelf to blame.”
“You motherfucker,” Eddie huffs, completely exasperated as Buck continues to smirk. He pulls his hands away from Buck’s face, crossing his arms in front of him in annoyance.
“Every time, man. Every. Time. You should see your face.” The asshole is laughing at him, in his own home, on the day of his child’s birth.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Fine.
He grabs a fistful of Buck’s astronaut suit, yanking him towards him to attack his lips with his own. Eddie uses Buck’s surprised gasp to his advantage to slide his tongue against Buck. His mouth is warm and wet and it’s been so long since he has simply kissed someone; let alone someone he loves.
He’s so lost in the feel of it that he almost forgets that it’s Buck he’s kissing. Buck. His friend. His very male friend who might not want this at all.
He pulls back suddenly, wide eyed and nervous as he desperately tries to gauge Buck’s reaction.
“Are you kidding me?”
Oh fuck. He’s messed up. He’s ruined everything. He’s ruined everything and—
“All I had to do to get you to kiss me was to torture you with puns? I could have done that years ago.”
“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, pulling Buck in because he can. He’s not kissing him because of puns. He’s kissing him because he loves his son, because he’s still here, because he wants to be here. And Buck’s kissing back. He’s kissing back and it’s a revelation. He pulls back, a spike of satisfaction shooting through him at the way Buck struggles to follow. “Hey Buck?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, even as he tries to chase Eddie’s lips.
“One more pun and you’re losing kissing privileges.”
Buck’s lips slide to his jaw, nipping at the hard line of his jaw before kissing his way down the slope of his neck. “Hey, Eddie, how do flowers kiss?”
“Don’t do it,” he warns, voice low and rough.
Buck’s mouth finds his own, teeth tugging at his lower lip before his tongue darts out to soothe the skin. “They use their tulips.”
Fine, he can give him one more warning.