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"Close your eyes and make a wish," Buck had said. "Since you're the birthday boy, it will for sure come true."
He had promised that two birthdays ago. Not the first of Christopher's birthdays that all three of them had celebrated together, but the one not long before Dad and Buck had become a couple. There were times when it seemed like they would never figure that one out, but then, somehow they did. Not that anything out of the ordinary happened. Buck had landed himself in the hospital, but that wasn't unusual for him. Maybe what changed was the nurse he got, who insisted that only family members and partners could come in to see the patient during the first 24 hours.
Dad had refused to go home and he wouldn't stop pacing in the corridor outside of Buck's room.
"You need to get some sleep," Carla had told him when she came to take Chris home.
"I will," Dad had replied, but he'd looked too distracted to note his own answer, and when they left him, he was still pacing up and down that hallway.
He had come to get Chris after Buck had been allowed other visitors. During the ride there, Dad was quiet and kept tapping his fingers on the wheel, which he almost never did. If he was nervous, that just made sense, since his best friend was hospitalized. Christopher didn't think much of it. What he did focus on immediately was the way these two men acted once Dad and he had entered Buck's room.
Something had been off about the way those two were talking to each other. It took Chris a minute to figure it out and he had to replay their entrance in order to pinpoint what it was.
Dad had said, "Hi," and his voice was so much softer than it usually was when the three of them were hanging out. Buck in response had sat up in the bed, almost as if he was trying to make himself more presentable. When their gazes crossed, they smiled at each other like they were continuing a conversation they had started and didn't yet get to finish or like they were newly sharing a secret.
Chris had taken a seat by Buck's bed and waited a little longer to be on the safe side. He didn't need more than just five minutes before those two were so obvious that he had to say something.
"Dad?"
"Yes, buddy?"
"Are you and Buck together?"
Both of their expressions had straightened up immediately, Dad even went a little pale. He had started answering, but his words came out stuttering. "I, I'm, wha... No, wh... why would you...?"
"Eddie," Buck had said quietly and they exchanged a look. Chris had seen them do this so many times before, communicate with each other without words. It was nice to see this familiar dynamic again, to know that at the core of it, whatever had changed with them wasn't going to alter how they were before.
Dad had cleared his throat and crouched down to Christopher's level. "Yeah, I think we are. Is that okay, mijo?"
And Chris hadn’t really had a way of expressing everything that he was feeling at the news, other than to hug his father and whisper, "It's the best."
Which it was, because he had then tugged on the edge of the hospital gown he managed to grasp without looking, leading to Buck joining the hug and completing it.
But if it was the best, then why has Chris been so unsatisfied lately?
He didn't make the connection between what Buck had told him about his wish coming true and its proximity to when those two had gotten together until they started talking about throwing a party for Christopher's upcoming birthday. That was when Buck turned to Chris and asked him, "What would you like this year?"
He couldn't answer the question. Were there games he wanted? Of course. But something underneath was poking him, telling him there was something else he would much rather have. He just couldn't figure out what exactly that was.
That was followed by a couple of weeks of displeasure and unrest. That question with its evading answer was an itch found so deeply under his skin that he couldn't reach it, he couldn't scratch it, but he also couldn't, not even for a millisecond, forget that it was there.
Until a phone call from Bobby, telling Buck he may be needed at a firefighters convention in Louisiana the following weekend, right before Christopher's birthday.
That's when he realized what the issue was. He couldn't recall how long it took exactly for Buck to move in with them, but it definitely didn't take much time. He and Dad were smitten to the point where Chris had to roll his eyes and leave the room on a few occasions during those early months. If he smiled to himself as he did, that wasn't anyone else's business.
Since then, they were basically a family. They were probably before as well, but after Buck had moved in, it was real on a whole new level.
But life kept reminding them once in a while that things can end at any moment. Whether it was a scare on one of the 118's calls, the date of Mom's passing away or even something as simple as traveling across the country for a professional convention. Chris fully understood that any anxiety that this work trip was causing him was most likely unfounded. That the odds were Buck would leave and come back a couple of days later, tired and... that would be about it. Yet, the more Chris thought about the convention, the greater the number of horror scenarios that crept into his mind, all of them ending with Buck being torn away from them one way or another. Maybe due to some accident that might land him in a hospital, almost on the other side of the country, with them not even having the right to see him.
When it was time to escort Buck to the airport, Chris refused to. He closed himself in his room and wouldn't come out. He couldn't bring himself to explain that he wasn't simply upset about this convention meaning that Buck wouldn't be there for his birthday. Christopher's fears ran deeper than that, but putting them into words might make them more likely to come true. So he chose silence and solitude. When there was a knock at the door, he buried his head in the cover. It couldn't change anything, of course. But his own conviction that this trip spelled doom for them as a family wouldn't let him cooperate with this in any way, even the smallest.
"Christopher, this is a task for work. I can't not go," Buck's voice broke through the shut door. Practically begging for understanding.
Chris wanted to get up, go to the door and open it. He considered it and, as he was replaying Buck's sadness in his head, it was becoming less and less of an issue, but his resistance wasn't completely gone. Then he noticed that while he was deliberating, everything had gone so very quiet on the other side of the door and suddenly, opening it wasn't a problem at all. He rose from his bed and, picking up his crutches, he came out of his room as fast as he could, only to discover Dad and Buck had already left.
What if an accident did happen and Chris didn't even get to say goodbye? Just acknowledging the possibility made that sense of impending doom take over him again, worse than before.
So what is Chris wishing for on his birthday?
He's standing in the light spilling out of the open fridge in the dark kitchen and looking at his cake, prepared and waiting for him in there. Layers of chocolate and planetary systems on them made out of colorful M & M's. Buck took the lead on it before he left on his trip and Dad helped. After the two of them left for the airport and he returned alone, he moped around for a while, but the next day, he drowned himself in preparations for the birthday party Chris was no longer that interested in. He went to bed early, exhausted from all those tasks, thinking his son did, too.
It's a few seconds past midnight and officially Christopher's birthday. He's been waiting, watching the clock.
He takes the cake out and puts it on the counter, next to a couple of candles and matches he grabbed earlier from the kitchen cabinet they were stashed away in. He places the candles in strategic spots and lights them, closes his eyes and wishes. Wishes with all of his heart. Then he blows the candles out, takes them off and carefully covers the tracks he left behind with his own pack of M & M's. He puts everything back in its place and goes to bed, wondering whether Buck was right two years ago... and what it might mean if he wasn't.
He wakes up twice during the night, without remembering what he dreamed of, only that he feels like he was restless the entire time. It takes longer to fall back asleep after the second wake, but eventually he does.
The first thing that greets Chris in the morning is a tickle around his ankle. The second is Buck's laughter. "Good morning, Sunshine!" he grins.
"Buck!" Chris flings himself out from underneath the covers and practically attacks him with a hug.
"I missed you, too."
A pair of strong arms closes around him and Buck leaves a kiss on the top of Christopher's head.
He pulls himself half out of the embrace, looks up and asks, "I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow?"
"I told the supervisors there that I had a really important reason why I had to go home early." Buck leans in, like they're conspiring to commit a crime together, "I wasn't supposed to, but I couldn't be away from my Chris on his special day."
Several quick taps sound on the door. "Can I come in or are you two too busy for me?"
Buck lights up at Dad and, for a while, they all just sit on Christopher's bed and get all the details about the trip to Louisiana: what topics the convention ended up covering, the lady on the plane who kept asking questions because it was her first time flying, and which firefighters were there that the 118 had come across before.
Chris is snugly tucked between his dad and Buck while he listens and it feels like a special occasion and like routine at the same time, which sort of makes it better. It's good to have back a piece of the familiar course of their lives together. It's good to have it while a certain buzz was still in the air, a thrill that Buck was really there, that he made the effort to be.
"Come on. Storytime is over, your toothbrush is waiting," Dad nudges when Buck's tales seem to have come to an end.
It's the sign to start getting ready for the guests. Chris goes through his morning routine, but dresses up in his nicest clothes, then goes to help Dad and Buck bring out all the refreshments and drinks they had prepared.
Christopher's friends are the first to show up, but they're soon joined by his Abuela and Pepa, as well as the members of the 118 with their kids. Everyone seems to be having a great time.
When the cake is brought out, Chris observes it somberly. He made a wish and it hasn't exactly come true, not quite. And he's already blown his candles, he can't redo that. He takes Harry aside and asks for help.
"When I'm blowing the candles, I'll only pretend I am. If you're standing next to me and you do it for real, no one will notice."
"Are you sure it's such a big deal? I think you can blow them out again. There's no rule against it."
But Chris doesn't want to risk it and Harry does agree, even if he doesn't get the reasoning.
It's a wonderful celebration, but like all good things, it also starts to wind down to its inevitable finish. The last gifts have been unwrapped, the kids have grown tired, the parents say their goodbyes and Dad starts cleaning a little. That's the ultimate sign that the party is basically over.
When the last guest has left, Chris realizes he's tired, too.
"You want to go to bed, mijo?"
He nods and rubs his eyes. It was a good day, He won't have trouble sleeping tonight. Dad comes and sits down by him on the couch.
"Just one more gift before that, alright?"
Chris perks up at that. As if he was going to say no. There's no such thing as too many presents.
Buck comes out of his and Dad's bedroom, placing a very thin folder on the table before he takes a seat by them. The two grown men exchange a look and Christopher can read it enough by now to decipher that Dad is expressing support because Buck's apprehensive.
What does he have to be afraid of?
He coughs nervously once and then rubs his flat palms against each other, looking down at them instead of anywhere else.
"Chris," Buck starts, "I'm... I've been thinking... Your dad and I have been talking..." He stops and sighs, glances at him, before dropping his gaze and trying again. "I'm not saying that you have to, this is of course only if you want it, and I would never ever want you to be pressured, it's not about replacing anyone either, I'm..."
"Buck!" Christopher cuts him off. "You're not making any sense."
He takes a deep breath. "If it's what you want, and only then, I would be really happy... to adopt you. I'd be so proud to get to call you my kid."
Chris hears the end of that sentence with his body pressed up against Buck's chest, since that's what he launched himself into. His hands close in a hug and he's mumbling, "yes" and "of course," maybe a "duh" slips in as well, he's not exactly keeping track. He's too happy himself.
Dad for once doesn't join the hug. He gets it. This one is theirs. They'll have plenty of others, now more than ever, where it will be all three of them. But this one is different. Private. A hug of gratitude for the fact that they found each other, not only after an earthquake or a tsunami, but in each other's heart.
Over Buck's shoulder, once Chris can bring himself to open his eyes despite the tears, he sees the crumbs left on the plate that used to hold the cake. It was devoured too quickly, not quite big enough for all the people who had come by today. It makes zero difference now. It did what it had to do. It allowed Chris to make his birthday wish and get what he wanted most of all, Buck fully as his other dad.