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Christopher’s birthday is in August, falling almost halfway between Buck’s in June and Eddie’s in November.
He’s turning sixteen this year and Eddie’s trying desperately not to freak out about it. He never likes thinking about his baby getting older, and especially lately has been lying to himself that Christopher is going to stay forever. There’s definitely not going to be any major life changes in two years when he graduates that will lead to him moving out. Nope, not at all.
Usually, Buck takes the opportunity Christopher’s birthday provides to tease Eddie affectionately but relentlessly. He’s kind of an asshole like that, but he’s Eddie’s asshole; the jokes are just part of their routine, their relationship in general. Yeah, Buck will poke a little bit of fun at him, but whenever Eddie realizes just how big his son is and wants to hide his wet eyes in his shoulder, Buck always opens his arms for him, rubs his back and soothes him that it’ll all be okay.
The teasing helps them both feel better about it, really. Eddie especially needs something lighthearted to make all the growing up going on easier to bear.
So of course, when August rolls around and Buck doesn’t start ribbing him about how much of an old man Eddie is—he’s only 39, thank you very much—he notices.
Buck doesn’t say anything about Chris’s birthday, actually, beyond asking what he wants his party to be like, and texting the big group chat, making sure everyone has the day off so they can attend. (It pays, sometimes, to have a brother-in-law for a captain.) Desperate to be distracted from his own existential crises, Eddie waits until they’re alone to bring it up.
He gets his opportunity to ask that night as they get ready for bed. Eddie’s already laying down, reading an article Buck sent him earlier when his husband exits the bathroom, dressed for bed and wearing an expression that Eddie can’t quite name. It’s some mix of upset and self-reproach, he thinks. He means to ask if Buck is alright, if he’s freaking out, but what comes out instead is: “You’re being weird.”
“Says the weirdest man I know,” Buck counters without heat, pulling their covers back and sliding in. He lays on his side to face Eddie, part of his face obscured by his pillow. His curls stick out like this, damp from a shower and free of any product. “What’s this about?”
Eddie stretches out his leg, tangling it with Buck’s, ankles pressed together. Buck’s feet are always so damn cold, even in the summer. “I can just tell something’s on your mind. Something about Christopher, huh?”
Buck doesn’t answer right away, his eyes shut. Eddie doesn’t make him talk, averting his eyes to the hollow of Buck’s throat so he doesn’t feel watched. This is just another of their routines—sometimes, they both have to build up to saying whatever their problem is, but they always do say it in the end.
Finally, Buck lets out a controlled breath. Eddie’s not sure what he expects him to say, really, but “We’re old as hell, aren’t we,” definitely wasn’t it.
“Unfortunately,” Eddie says. The way their birthdays work out, Buck is 36, only three years younger than him for another few months. They’re young, really, but the exciting, eventful lives they’ve lived—and not to mention staring down the barrel of their only child nearing adulthood—makes them feel ancient. Buck doesn’t have to say it for Eddie to know it’s true. Maybe they aren’t ancient yet, but youth is passing far too quickly.
Buck swallows. “I’m—I was not prepared for this.”
He reaches out and lays his hand on Buck’s bicep, just holding on, letting him know he’s not alone here. It’s always a little easier to deal with his own feelings—or maybe easier to ignore them—when he can see Buck needs some support. “Is anyone?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Buck clings onto Eddie’s hand. “Oh fuck, Eds. He’s gonna be moving out before we know it. What are we gonna do when he’s in college? I’m going to lose my mind not having him here, I already know it.”
“Buck—“
But he’s on a roll, his anxiety getting the better of him as he continues, “Is this what empty nest syndrome feels like? Can I even feel it if he’s still here? Is this early onset empty nest synd—”
“Buck,” Eddie says, laughing despite himself. “Hey, calm down, it’s okay. We’ll get there when we get there, and in the meantime, we’re just… not gonna think about it at all.”
Skeptically, he repeats, “At all.”
“Nope,” Eddie says, infusing some false cheer into his words. “Not at all.”
“So we’re gonna wing it?” Buck asks, some of the frantic energy leaving his voice, then makes a considering noise. “I mean, we are really good at that, so….”
Eddie nods. “ Sooo , as long as we pretend it’s not happening, it’s fine.”
“That’s not very therapy-forward of us,” Buck points out.
He’s right of course. And yeah, Frank has been saying for ages that the upcoming life changes are something he’ll need to work through sooner or later, so why not sooner? But why should he do it sooner when later is clearly the better option?
“Hush, you,” Eddie says, wrapping his arm around Buck’s middle and tugging him closer. “He doesn’t even know where he wants to go yet, so we should focus on that first.”
“Uh-huh, and this is not at all us procrastinating feeling or dealing with our emotions.”
Eddie hums succinctly, ignoring the sarcasm in his husband’s voice. “Exactly.”
Buck snorts softly. For a few minutes, they’re quiet, just laying together and basking in the ambient noises of the neighborhood. Across the hall, Christopher’s TV—a present for getting a 3.8 GPA his freshman year of high school, and also because he was begging for it—is a low buzz, canned laughter from late-night shows filling in the edges of the air. Buck’s thumb sweeps soothingly over the curve of Eddie’s hip. He closes his eyes, comforted by having the two loves of his life under one roof, safe and content, and definitely not moving out any time soon.
Finally, the silence is broken by Buck. In a whisper, he says, “I’m gonna miss him so much.”
Eddie’s eyes sting stubbornly. They have two years at least before Christopher moves out—there’s no reason to cry now. “Me too,” he whispers back, ignoring the way his voice wobbles. “But we’ll have to let him go eventually.”
“Yeah….”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t video call every week, though.”
“Or beg him to stay close,” Buck adds.
“Exactly,” Eddie says again. “Besides, we’ve got time.”
Buck sighs, his breath gusting over Eddie’s collarbone. Neither of them speak after that, lost in thought, drifting off together in their bed and in each other’s arms.