Work Text:
Ana sighed as she gathered her things, preparing for her class. Mother's and Father's Day were a hassle. It's not that she inherently disliked those holidays or thought they shouldn't exist or anything like that. In fact, she loved how much love and thought the children put into the cards they made in English class. But with how many different kinds of family dynamics there were among her students? Keeping track of everything took a lot of work.
Christopher Diaz had two fathers. That was easy; just give him a second piece of paper. The issue here had been Mother's Day, where he had instead made cards for his Bisabuela and Tía Abuela. He'd tried to get a card done for his home care nurse (and seriously, could that boy get any cuter?), but he'd run out of time. Ana was curious if Christopher had ended up making an additional card for his nurse at home like he said he would. She wondered if asking his dads next Parent-Teacher-Night was appropriate or if it was a bit too forward.
Ana then started going over the kids in her class without fathers. Melanie Collins had two moms, but she celebrated one of them on Father's Day instead of Mother's Day so they still both had one day for themselves. Owen Keller's father had passed away from cancer two years ago, and the holiday itself was still difficult for him. Owen's mother had instructed her to still have him make a card. They would laminate it and put it on Mr. Keller's grave while celebrating Father's Day there.
Maya Hernandez's father wasn't in the picture, but she had an uncle she loved dearly. Kevin Chan's father had left the family as well; he had a stepfather he looked up to. Ana could only imagine how happy those men would feel when the kids handed them the cards. She smiled at the thought. Yeah, this made all the information gathering she'd done worth it.
*
The classroom was abuzz with activity and chatter when Ana entered at the beginning of her class. She smiled into the room as the kids sat down at their desks, greeting them cheerfully. Quickly explaining that they'd be making Father's Day cards (which they probably already knew, they're kids, not idiots), she handed out paper, making sure to talk to each of the kids without dads in their lives about what to do. Lastly, she came to Christopher.
“Hi, Chris," Ana smiled as she placed two pieces of paper on his desk. "You and your dads excited for Father's Day?"
Chris nodded, his head bopping up and down so fast Ana was scared his neck might snap for a second.
“Yes, thank you, Ms. Flores," he said, already rummaging through his pencil case. He suddenly stopped, directing a wide-eyed gaze adorned with his bright smile at her. "Actually, Ms. Flores, could I have a bigger piece of paper, please?"
Ana raised an eyebrow. This was unusual.
“A... big piece of paper?" she asked. Christopher, undeterred, nodded yet again.
“Yes! I have a really good idea, but I need a big piece for it", he said. "I only need one. It's gonna be a really big card for both Dad and Papa."
Well, if he said it like that. Ana gave it a quick thought and then smiled down at him.
“Okay, I'll get you one real quick," she said. "Stay quiet in the meantime, okay?"
Christopher promised and started doodling on the paper she had given him previously.
“I need to practice anyway. My card has to be perfect!"
*
On Sunday, Buck woke up clinging to his husband, his head comfortably lying on Eddie's chest. This was a regular occurrence; Eddie was just way too good of a pillow to not use him like one. It was a bit awkward when they first started sleeping in the same bed, not only because Buck was ever so slightly taller, meaning he had to find a proper position for the rest of his body that didn't require him to hang his feet off the bed, but also... Buck's a drooler. He couldn't explain it, but when he slept, the saliva just started flowing. Eddie was grossed out at first until Buck reminded him of the other bodily fluids they traded on the regular (which also included spit anyway, so what even was his deal). At this point, Eddie was used to waking up with a wet chest. He'd always taken his showers in the morning anyway.
“Morning," Eddie said with a sleepy grin, carding his fingers through Buck's hair. Buck nuzzled closer into his chest, not wanting to get up yet. The two of them actually having a lovely, quiet morning to themselves was rare. Obviously, Buck's own schedule as a firefighter was the more sporadic one. He often had to either leave ridiculously early, or he came home so late and was so exhausted that he ended up sleeping until noon or later the next day. While Eddie worked more regular hours at the law office, he sometimes had meetings that required him to leave absurdly early, and if his clients were difficult, he'd work stupidly late too.
“Don't wanna wake up," Buck mumbled into space between Eddie's pecks, snuggling closer into his side. "Too comfy..."
“It's Father's Day, cariño," Eddie said, his arms tightening around Buck's body. "You know, once Chris is up, he'll be bouncing off the walls." It wasn't a bad thing. They loved their son more than life itself, and every bit of attention Chris demanded, he'd get. They knew they overdid it sometimes and that they tended to spoil him a little bit, but with the less-than-ideal childhoods they'd had, no one could blame them for overcompensating every now and again.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Buck answered, finally detangling himself from Eddie's grip. “Let's hit the shower while we can.”
“Oh, you wanna share a shower, huh" Eddie teased with a little hum, getting out of bed along with Buck.
“No shower sex,” Buck retorted immediately as he grabbed clothes for both himself and Eddie from the closet. They had this conversation before, but Eddie still brought it up every few weeks or so. “Do you have any idea how many failed attempts at shower sex we respond to?”
“A... not insubstantial amount?”
“So many. Way too many!” Buck pointed out. “And all of them are stupid. Anyway, if you want to have shower sex, buy a non-slip mat first, then we can talk. Maybe!" Honestly, they should probably get one of those anyway. Christopher was used to his limbs not doing what he wanted them to, and he had learned from very early on how to handle his own body, but one of those mats would probably make his life easier.
“Okay, okay, no shower sex,” Eddie relented, raising his hands in surrender before heading out into the hallway and to the bathroom. “Spoilsport.”
*
After their shower, Buck and Eddie did their usual morning routine side by side, a rare occurrence similar to waking up together but one they cherished deeply when they could do it. After they rinsed their mouths, they shared their first kiss that morning (Buck didn't care about morning breath, but Eddie almost threw up the one time Buck had tried to kiss him before brushing his teeth).
And then there was a loud crash from the kitchen.
“I think your son is up," Eddie said with a grin and one more peck on Buck's lips before he left the bathroom.
“Oh, so when he breaks things, he's my son, huh?”
Another bang sounded through the air, making Buck wince and Eddie smile even wider.
“Duh, he didn't get the stuff-breaking attitude from me!"
As they walked into the kitchen, they were greeted by the mess they had already expected. There were eggshells, apple slices, and banana pieces and peels all over the floor, surrounded by flour that seemed to cover most of their kitchen. Whisks and spoons and a knife (Oh good lord, Chris had used a knife, what if he had fewer fingers than he should have now, oh god) lay all around the countertop. The fridge was half open, and in front of it was an unholy concoction of milk, orange juice, and mayonnaise, the shards of the mayo glass, several strawberries, as well as the milk and juice cartons swimming in it.
On the floor, right by the counter, laid a plastic mixing bowl, the one Buck always used for pancake or waffle batter. The batter in question had splashed all around the bowl, covering most of the bottom cabinets. And right next to the mixing bowl stood a kitchen chair.
And on the chair stood the youngest Diaz, dressed in his dinosaur pajamas, covered in flour, batter on his glasses, still holding the whisk in his hand.
“You weren't supposed to come yet!" Christopher complained, throwing his arms up in frustration. "I'm not done!"
“Actually," Eddie said, his face reflecting the surprise Buck himself felt. How did one tiny seven-year-old do this? "I think you are done, mijo.”
“How even did you..." Buck trailed off. He didn't want to sound impressed or accusatory, which he most likely would. He was absolutely baffled by the fact Chris had done all of this. Because, yes, Christopher could do anything he put his mind to, Buck was convinced of that, but also... he had a disability that hindered his mobility. Flinging half his their kitchen around should not have been as easy for him as it very apparently was.
And then Buck was hit with the reality of just how long cleaning this would take. He groaned. Even with all three of them, they were gonna be at it for a while.
“Okay..." he said, looking over to Eddie and Chris. "How about you get Superman cleaned up, and I start... somewhere in here?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go, Chris.” And with that, Eddie lifted Christopher into his arms, carrying him to the bathroom.
Buck sighed and got a trash bag out of a cabinet.
*
Eddie and Christopher emerged 20 minutes later, Chris now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt Buck knew were old and on the verge of being too small. Eddie had had the foresight to dress Chris in expandable clothes. Buck had gotten most of the non-liquids off the ground (their broom was now ruined. Buck made a mental note to get a new one) and was preparing a bucket to mop the floor. Chris looked pretty sad compared to how annoyed he'd been before.
“Evan, I think Christopher has something to tell you," Eddie said, nudging their son forward slightly, a pointed look on his face.
“I'm sorry about the mess, Papa," Chris apologized, his voice small and regretful, his eyes cast downward. "I just wanted to make you and Dad breakfast because it's Father's Day."
And god, it made Buck's heart break. His little boy had just attempted to do something nice and special. The attempt had failed, sure, but the sentiment was still there. However irritated or upset Buck may have been about having to clean the kitchen this early in the morning, his love and appreciation for his son were far greater.
“Hey, hey, Superman, I'm totally grateful you wanted to do this for us," he said, kneeling down to hug Chris. "Just wait until we get up next year, and then we can cook together, okay?"
“Okay," Chris nodded, his face buried in Buck's neck. Buck ruffled his son's hair one last time before getting up and grabbing the mop.
“Okay, I do the floor. Chris, get a sponge and a rag and get started on the bottom cabinets”, he instructed, Chris nodding eagerly and walking off to get the materials. Buck turned to Eddie. “Babe, you're on sink duty.”
Eddie pulled a face but didn't complain otherwise. The kitchen was Buck's domain, and questioning his decisions about it was a mistake Eddie had made once, and he never would make it again.
*
Two and a half hours later, the kitchen looked like the mess never happened. Eddie had quickly stepped out and gotten them a bunch of breakfast burritos from Taco Bell (No, neither he nor Buck would ever tell Pepa or Abuela they bought food from there, they didn't have a death wish) because, after Christopher's little escapade, they didn't really have much food left at home.
“Okay, so, what did we learn today?" Eddie asked between bites, his eyes locked onto Chris. The kid groaned in annoyance, clearly wanting to be done with the situation.
“That I should think more before I act. You said that like three times now!” he said, earning him a raised eyebrow and a small, amused smile from Buck and narrowed eyes from Eddie.
“You really think you should bring the sass like that after this morning?”
“Holding a grudge isn't healthy, Dad!”
Buck (the traitor) actually laughed at that, and Eddie himself almost let out a chortle. Chris, his toothy grin on full display, clearly knew that he'd won.
“You know, your son is right, Eds, it really isn't," he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, taking another bite. Eddie's look now fixated on his husband instead.
“Oh, so when he gives bratty remarks, he's my son, huh?”
“Duh, he didn't get the sassy attitude from me!”
The retort made Eddie's resolve crumble, and he started laughing along with his husband and son, the happenings of this morning turning into a fun story to share with their friends and family later.
*
After finishing their food and cleaning their dishes, Christopher instructed Buck and Eddie to sit on the couch and wait for him. Though they feigned confusion, they knew he wanted to give them their Father's Day gifts now.
What they decidedly hadn't expected was the giant paper bag he returned to the living room with. Chris put the bag in front of the coffee table and started rummaging around in it.
“Okay, this is for Papa!" he said triumphantly, pulling out a long box he handed to Buck. Buck's eyes went wide as he realized what it was.
“Chris, wha- How did you even get this?" he asked. It was a model of a firetruck. A vintage model of a firetruck. There was no way a seven-year-old could get a hold of something like this. Christopher smiled cheekily.
“Bobby gave that to me! He said you'd really like it, and we both want you to be happy!"
Bobby had volunteered to watch Chris a few weeks ago when Buck and Eddie had helped Pepa build some new furniture. Buck had no idea Bobby even had models like this one. And he had just decided to hand it over to Chris to use as a gift? He'd have to ask him when they started their shift tomorrow. He turned back to Christopher.
“I love this, Superman!" Buck said, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He quickly wiped them away, pulling Chris into a hug.
“I love you, Papa," Christopher mumbled into Buck's neck before pulling away. He returned to the paper bag, pulling out various small items like soaps and candles. Then he pulled out a set of beach towels, each embroidered with a name. One read "Dad," the next read "Papa," and the third read "Christopher." "Carla ordered these for us. We thought it wouldn't be here in time, but it was!"
“Looks like we have to go to the beach soon, huh?" Eddie said, taking the towels from Christopher's hand. He ran his fingers across the stitching of the "Dad" embroidery.
The next item Chris pulled from the bag was for Eddie, specifically: a watch. A watch that Eddie knew because it had belonged to Abuelo Edmundo.
“Bisabuela said I should give that to you," Christopher said, handing the watch to his Dad. "She said she kept it to remember Bisabuelo but that he would have wanted you to have it."
In awe, Eddie took the watch out of its box. He turned it around in his hands a few times, just watching it before finally putting it on.
“This is amazing, Chris. Thank you," he finally said, hugging his son.
After Eddie let him go, Christopher pulled another item out of the bag. It was a picture frame. Buck took it from him, curiosity sparking inside him. In the frame was an old picture. The Buck and Eddie in it were noticeably younger, and not just because they were thinner and less bulky. This must have been just after Buck had left his parent's home and moved in with the Diazes. In the picture, Eddie had an arm around Buck's shoulders, and in Buck's arms was a small bundle. No thinking was needed to know who that bundle was. Tears welled up in Buck's eyes, and from the sniffles next to him, he knew Eddie was the exact same.
“Carla helped me call Abuelo and Abuela for that," Chris explained softly. "I asked if they had a picture of us that we don't have. Abuela said this is the first picture of us three together ever.” Buck had to call Ramon and Helena and thank them. They weren't perfect and had brought headaches upon headaches to Buck and Eddie, but god, when they showed their love in a somewhat healthy way, they really knew how to deliver.
“Thank you, Chris,” Eddie said, ruffling Christopher's hair, making the boy smile bashfully. “This means a lot.”
“One more thing," Chris whispered as he pulled out a big piece of paper. "I made this for you in English."
Buck took the card out of their son's hand and opened it. In it was a drawing of three penguins, two grown ones and a chick, clearly a family. One of the grown penguins was slightly taller than the other. He was wearing turnout gear and a firefighter helmet, and there was a very clearly visible smudge of pink above his left eye. The other grown penguin was lightly shorter and wore a dashing-looking suit in a dark blue, close to the one Eddie wore for work. He wore a nice black tie and held a suitcase in his right flipper. Which left the nestling, which wore glasses, a striped shirt and held itself upright with a pair of crutches. Surrounding the penguins was a bright red heart. Under each penguin, Christopher had written their names, Dad for the one in the suit, Papa for the firefighter penguin, and Christopher for the baby. It was one beautiful family portrait.
Buck started to sniff again, having had no time to recover from the photo before being given this. Eddie rested his chin on Buck's shoulder, taking in every pencil stroke Christopher took. A few stray tears ran down his face.
“This is beautiful, Superman," Buck choked out. He wiped at his eyes but to no avail. Christopher climbed into Buck's lap and snuggled into his chest, Buck's arms wrapping around him.
“I worked really hard on it," Christopher answered. Eddie took the card out of Buck's hand and put it on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around his two favorite men.
“We can see that,” Eddie mumbled, pressing a kiss to Chris' hair. Buck nodded, his tears still flowing. He wanted to talk, to express in his words how much all this meant to him, but nothing would come out. Eddie smiled at him.
“It's okay to be speechless, cariño" he said, kissing Buck's birthmark. "We can both see how much this means to you." Christopher nodded and looked Buck in the eye.
“I know your crying because you're happy, Papa,” he agreed. “I like seeing you happy.”
Buck couldn't help but feel a little pathetic despite their encouraging words. He'd spent the vast majority of his early life feeling like he was not enough. His mother actively disapproved of everything he ever took an interest in; his father had no spine and just let Mom do whatever she wanted. Both actively ignored him whenever he didn't do anything to make them mad. Their neglect had hurt, still hurt, really, and he figured that was where that bit of shame came from. He wasn't allowed to be happy when he was a kid and hadn't been loved by the people who were supposed to love him.
But now? Now he had a husband and a son who loved him no matter what. He had Hen and Chimney, who he could talk to freely because they felt like Maddie used to before Doug came into the picture. He had Bobby, who in 9 months on the job had been more of a father to him than his actual biological father, to the point where he had, with perfect precision, shown Chris what Buck would have liked as a gift.
Buck wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie and Christopher. His family was the best, no doubt about it. And he'd never replace them for anything else in the world.