Work Text:
Bobby gave the goulash in front of him a few more stirs before he grabbed his tasting spoon. After deliberating for a moment, he added a dash of salt and a slight whiff of nutmeg, rounding out the dish's taste. Smiling, he nodded at the result and turned the stove off with a happy hum.
Next, he checked on the rolls he had in the oven, but they still needed another few minutes. He’d gotten up absurdly early to make them from scratch. He’d let the dough rise four times, which took its time. But, Bobby was sure, it was worth it. He’d volunteered to babysit Christopher today because Buck and Eddie helped Maddie move into her new house, and he intended to make sure the kid was cared for and properly fed. And if Buck and Eddie thought he was spoiling the little guy, so what? Everyone knew how tightly Christopher had his dads wrapped around his fingers, so if anything, Bobby could call them out on their hypocrisy.
Plus, Bobby loved feeding the people in his life. Whenever someone tasted his cooking and moaned over the taste, eyes closed, content smiles on their lips, it pumped pure dopamine through his veins. Every soft “Mmmmh”, every attempt to savor the deliciousness of his food, and every ask for the recipe (“Sorry, no can do. It’s a secret,” he’d say with a teasing wink) warmed his heart and made him feel appreciated.
With the soft aroma of the rolls filling the kitchen, Bobby fished his phone out of his pocket. There, he found a new message from Buck.
He sent back a quick affirmation before turning towards the fridge. He’d made tiramisu yesterday evening, Buck’s favorite. He quickly dusted it with cocoa powder, then put it back in, waiting for dessert time. The rolls were done now as well, which meant he was all set.
*
As it turns out, his timing was impeccable. Eddie and Chris arrived only around 10 minutes later.
“Hi Bobby,” Christopher greeted as he walked into Bobby’s apartment, his crutches softly clacking against the floor.
“Hey, Chris! You excited for today?” Bobby asked. He ruffled Chris’ hair as he passed before looking back at Eddie. He’d stayed in the doorway, watching his son climb onto Bobby’s couch.
“Thank you, Bobby, seriously,” Eddie said sincerely. “I know you’d probably prefer to spend the day with Athena, but with Pepa at work, and Abuela’s hip, it’s-”
“Eddie!” Bobby interrupted. “It’s fine. Athena is spending the day with Harry and May anyway. Believe me, I was 100% free. Plus, I love spending time with the kid.”
Eddie let out a relieved sigh and nodded. With a quick glance at his watch, he turned to leave. “Okay, Buck and I’ll be back at like, I don’t know, six? Give or take pending traffic.”
“Alright.”
“Good. Bye mijo!” Eddie yelled, getting a “Bye” from Chris in return. “And thanks again Bobby, really!”
“It’s fine, Eddie. Now go, Maddie’s new furniture won’t move itself,” Bobby teased, shooing Eddie away with his hand. Eddie, after once again thanking Bobby for watching Christopher, finally turned to leave.
Closing the door, Bobby turned to his little guest. “So, what do you wanna do, champ?”
*
For the next hour, Christopher absolutely destroyed Bobby in Uno. It was almost embarrassing how hard Bobby lost. Sometimes he had more than fifteen cards on his hand as Chris excitedly slammed his last one down with a victory cry that was all Buck in its ecstasy and smugness.
“How are you so good?!” Bobby asked incredulously as he gathered the cards together after another devastating loss. Christopher gave him a cheeky, toothy grin.
“It’s easy because you suck!” he said, all laugh and no heat. “But also, I’m really, really good!”
“Oh, and you’re so humble too!” Bobby shot back with a playful smile, pretending to wipe away an imaginary tear. "You sure know how to keep an old man's ego in check."
Christopher giggled, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Papa says being humble is good, but sometimes you gotta show off a little."
Yep, that was Buck alright. Buck, the loveable, smug, clearly vain to a certain extent, golden hearted idiot. Bobby considered himself lucky to have him at the 118. Sure, his harebrained decisions absolutely contributed to Bobby’s ever graying hair, but, at the end of the day, Buck didn’t act that way for thrills or fame. He did it because he cared, because he just wanted to help, because the thought of just letting people die without at least trying didn’t sit right with him. What more could you ask from a firefighter?
“So he says, huh?” Bobby grinned, checking the time on his phone. “Still a bit early for lunch. Another round or do you wanna do something else?”
Chris’ eyes twinkled behind his glasses and the corners of his mouth went straight up. “Cookies!”
“Cookies?” Bobby raised an eyebrow. He had the ingredients, but considering he had the tiramisu in the fridge, he wasn’t sure if giving the kid more sugar was a good idea. But then again, what was the point of being spoiled by a babysitter if not for a few extra sweets? Besides, Buck and Eddie would never know.
Bobby found himself caving under Christopher's excited and hopeful gaze. "Alright, cookies it is! But you've got to help me with them."
Chris's eyes went wide, and he practically jumped off the couch. "Really? You'll let me help?"
"Of course! Who else is going to make sure I don't ruin them? You're the expert, after all," Bobby teased, ushering Christopher into the kitchen.
Bobby preheated the oven and took out the appliances they needed, from a mixing bowl, to a cup for measuring and a sieve to make sure the flour didn’t have any clumps in it. He took a chair to the counter so Christopher could stand on it, and from then on, they worked in tandem. Bobby measured the ingredients and handed them to Christopher, who put them into the mixing bowl. Bobby helped Chris a bit with sieving the flour, but most of it? Chris’ work, through and through. Despite that, Chris' smile seemed to kind of falter whenever Bobby assisted him.
Under other circumstances, Bobby would have shrugged it off. However, he couldn’t help but notice Chris' demeanor change after this. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, for one, and whenever Bobby would reach over to grab something, Chris would quickly withdraw his own hands as if Bobby’s were deadly poison. Chris’ eyes didn’t meet his own anymore either, which is when Bobby decided he needed to get to the bottom of this.
So once all the cookies had been formed and the tray was in the oven, Bobby ushered Chris to the bathroom to wash up, before sitting him down on the couch.
“So,” Bobby said, kneeling down in front of him. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”
Chris looked downward, his hands wrung together. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Um…” he said, his jaw wordlessly moving up and down for a few seconds before he looked up at Bobby. “Am… Am I a burden?”
Bobby’s brows furrowed. This… was unexpected. He’d known Christopher for a bit over a year now, the day Buck had brought him to the station for a few hours until Eddie got off work still bright in his memory. With Eddie and his Aunt at work, and Eddie’s Abuela unavailable as well, Buck and Eddie had hired a babysitter. The sitter had then canceled half an hour before they were supposed to show up, leaving the Diaz men high and dry. Buck, out of sheer desperation, had practically bombarded Bobby with texts asking him what he was supposed to do.
Bobby had promptly made calls to the chief to get permission for Chris to hang out with the team at the station before telling Buck to just bring him along. That day was the first time Buck had given Bobby one of his signature bone crushing hugs, thanking him profusely while also apologizing for the… rather intense string of texts, which Bobby had brushed off. Buck was in a bind and panicking. They were lucky texting was all he did.
From that day on, Bobby had never seen Chris as anything other than happy, as independent as a six-to-seven-year-old could be, and, most importantly, confident. Chris knew he was different, both because of his disability and because his parents were both men. And yet, Chris had never been ashamed of either, proudly proclaiming how much he loved his dads at every opportunity and happily playing, just like all the other, able bodied children. Considering how close to the edge Bobby himself had been when he met Chris for the first time, the kid was nothing short of admirable.
So for him to think he might be a burden was strange to say the least.
“Why would you be a burden, Chris?”
“Sometimes…” Christopher began, his eyes going back down to the floor, his lower lip trembling. “Sometimes people say it must be hard for Dad and Papa to care for me. Because of my CP.”
Bobby’s eyebrows met his hairline at that. What the hell? He knew people could be insensitive. He’d repeatedly experienced that after what happened in St. Paul. But there was a big difference between making certain remarks about a grown man in his late forties who caused his own misery all by himself and making them about a seven-year-old boy who very much didn’t choose to be born with a disability.
“Do people say that to you directly, or…?” Bobby asked, contemplating on whether or not he should bring this up with Buck and Eddie later or not.
Christopher shook his head, still keeping his eyes locked to the ground. Bobby desperately wished he would look up, but didn’t want to force him.
“They say it when they think I can’t hear them,” he said, and that made Bobby’s heart a bit lighter. At least whoever those people were didn’t knowingly tell a child his disability made caring for him difficult.
“And do your dads ever say anything like that when they think you’re not there?” Bobby inquired, already knowing the answer. He admittedly wasn’t all that familiar with Eddie, but he knew Buck. Buck loved Christopher more than life itself.
He talked about his kid much and loud, and he made sure you knew exactly what his favorite color was (red, it’s why both his glasses and crutches were that color), who he considered his best friend (Denny, with with a girl from school named Kelly being a close second), or what food he could eat without ever stopping (Buck’s smoked salmon and spinach lasagna. He’d apparently tricked Chris into eating it without telling him what it was and it was love at first bite). Bobby couldn’t imagine that Eddie was much different. Buck wouldn’t put up with him if he was.
Chris blinked. And then blinked again and again. Bobby could practically see the gears turn in his head, as if his question was a key that had ignited his brain's engine.
“No,” Christopher said, finally looking up as realization hit him. “No, they always get really mad.”
Bobby knew this of course. Buck wore his emotions on his sleeve and he’d angrily ranted about the audacity of people numerous times at the station. The incident at the park a few months ago in particular had resulted in the gym's punching bag taking significant damage, just like Buck’s hands. Hen and Chimney, upon realizing that Buck had punched his knuckles bloody, had, rather exasperatedly, disinfected and bandaged the wounds.
Of course, they had all agreed that Buck’s anger was justified. Still, they were Buck’s friends - his family - so they of course gave him shit about it as much as they told him his feelings were valid.
“Well, then I don’t think you need to be worried,” Bobby said with a smile. He ruffled Christopher’s hair and put his hand on his shoulder. “Your dads love you, Chris. So, so much.”
Christopher was silent for a few seconds before nodding.
“They tell me that a lot,” he said. He seemed confident at first, but then his face fell again. “But what if they lie to me to not make me feel bad…”
“They don’t,” Bobby answered. His heart ached for the little boy in front of him. He wanted to do nothing more than to roll him up in bubble wrap to protect him from the world. “Your dads would never lie to you about something like that. They love you more than anything in this world. Trust me, everyone who knows you guys sees it every day. We all see how much you mean to them.”
Christopher's eyes were wide, his lower lip still quivering a bit, but the trust in his gaze was evident.
“You really think so?” he asked, the hope in his voice almost a physical thing.
“I know so,” Bobby confirmed with a warm smile. “Now, how about we check on those cookies, huh? They must be almost ready.”
Christopher’s smile had returned. It didn’t quite reach his eyes yet, but that was to be expected, Bobby thought. Christopher had just shared something very personal and heavy. It would take a bit of time to heal the tiny wound that doubt had created. But with the cookies as a distraction, Christopher’s excitement began to creep back into his eyes.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his feet. “I hope they’re good!”
“I’m sure they will be, especially with you helping,” Bobby said, leading him back to the kitchen.
Pulling the cookies out of the oven, they were greeted by the delicious aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. They were golden brown and perfect, just like Christopher's wide smile.
“You see? I told you we make a great team!” Bobby chuckled, placing the cookies on the cooling rack. “So, how about you go watch some TV while I get lunch ready?”
With a cheerful confirmation, Chris made his way back to the couch while Bobby put the goulash pot back onto the stove. He put the rolls he made into a basket, grabbed plates and cutlery and placed all of it on the small dining table. He then went back to the goulash, stirring it.
He couldn’t get what he and Christopher had talked about out of his head. Bobby had known that there was something off when he noticed the falter in Christopher’s smile, but to discover that the boy had been harboring such deep concerns was heart-wrenching. The innocence of children was something to be treasured, and the reality of Christopher's fear was a sobering reminder that sometimes the world can be too harsh.
The simmering pot before him seemed to bubble in agreement. The comforting scent of goulash filled the air as Bobby continued to ponder the situation. Even though Christopher seemed to feel better now, the issue wasn’t one that could be fixed with a single conversation. The child’s self-perception had been shaped by the careless words of others. As Bobby saw it, it would take the consistent affirmation of love and care from all those around him to remedy it.
He glanced over at Christopher, who was now engrossed in a cartoon on TV. The boy's earlier smile was starting to return, but there was a certain vulnerability in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Bobby knew he couldn't fix everything in a day, but he could make sure Chris knew how loved and valued he was.
The goulash was ready now, so Bobby carried the pot to the table and called for Chris to go wash his hands. Once Christopher was back and seated, Bobby served both of them a plateful and handed Chris a roll from the basket.
Bobby watched with anticipation as Chris lifted his spoon to his mouth. The moment it disappeared between his lips, Christopher’s eyes briefly widened before they shut in pure delight at the rich taste of the sauce and onions. His jaw moved fast, chewing the tender beef of the dish, and once he swallowed, he eagerly took his next bite. Bobby smiled. A certain warmth started to spread from his heart through his entire body.
“This is really good!” Chris exclaimed happily, his mouth still full. He still shoved another full spoon of the goulash into his mouth.
“Chris, swallow,” Bobby smiled.
Christopher complied, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk's as he worked to finish his mouthful before speaking again. He took a moment to chew properly and then looked up at Bobby with his eyes shining.
“It’s really, really good,” he repeated, emphasizing his point with a wide grin. “Like, restaurant good. Dad and Papa will be so jealous!”
Bobby laughed at the enthusiastic praise, his heart lightening at the sight of Christopher's recovered joy. “Well, thank you. They don’t have to be though, I made enough for you guys to take home.”
Christopher cheered at that, Bobby chuckling in response. His earlier worries seemed to have evaporated, thank goodness, and he was back to being his usual lively self, engaging Bobby in a spirited conversation about school, his friends, and his favorite games. The cheerful banter continued as they finished their lunch and moved on to the delicious tiramisu. Christopher’s eyes almost bulged out of his eyes upon seeing it and his excitement seemed to fill the entire room.
“You made this too?” Christopher's voice was high with astonishment, fork already poised to dig into the creamy dessert.
“Yes, I did. Go on, give it a try,” Bobby encouraged, watching with anticipation as the young boy took his first bite.
Christopher’s eyes rolled back in delight, and his ensuing moan of approval was all the praise Bobby needed.
“Is there enough to take home? Tiramisu is Papa’s favorite!”, Chris asked between bites, not even thinking of actually slowing down the way he practically inhaled the dessert. Bobby chuckled.
“Don’t tell him,” he said conspicuously, exaggeratedly leaning in. “I made it for him. He’s been a bit sad lately because our shifts kept him away from you and your Dad more than usual, so I made it to cheer him up a bit.”
It was unfortunate, but the A shift had been hit with three Night-to-Night 24s this past week, all of which meant that Buck started the first shift when Chris was already in bed, therefore got home when he was already in bed, then slept until he was already in school, went to bed again for a little bit of rest before shift start, then left when Chris was once again in bed.
The frequent sleeping around each other had taken an emotional toll on Buck. He was as professional as always out on calls, but at the station? He was moping around, complaining and grumbling about missing his family. Everyone could see how worn he was from the long hours and the lack of quality time with his loved ones. The team was sympathetic the first hour or so, but Buck’s whining got grating fast.
Chimney mostly seemed to be jealous, wanting a family like Buck had. Hen usually just sighed, no doubt feeling similarly about being away from Karen and Denny, and Lucy, being new as she was, tried to get used to everyone’s personality. Lucy had transferred to the 118 about a month ago, following Bobby’s invite. He’d wanted Buck to have a reliable partner, and Lucy, though she seemed similarly reckless and bold like him, still had several impressive records. While there were several reprimands for disobeying orders (something he was used to, he filed enough of them for Buck), there was an absurd amount of reports of Lucy’s skills, which weren’t to be scoffed at. And despite Buck’s… cold, to say the least, welcome of her, the two had quickly bonded and become good partners and friends.
Chris blinked at Bobby, his expression unreadable. He had finished his tiramisu, save for a few crumbs left on the plate. Bobby raised an eyebrow, trying to prompt Christopher to speak. The silence was palpable and Bobby’s stomach went a bit fuzzy from uneasiness.
Then Christopher asked a question that Bobby simply hadn’t anticipated.
“Are you my grandpa?”
Bobby’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. His jaw practically hit the table. The fuzziness in his stomach grew, but for reasons unrelated to his previous uneasiness.
A lump formed in his throat as he searched for words. The question wasn't just unexpected; it was profound, touching a part of him he hadn't realized was so vulnerable. How did Chris even get this idea?
His hands trembled slightly as he put down his fork, feeling a warmth in his cheeks. He looked into Christopher's earnest eyes, seeing innocence and curiosity there. It was a simple question for a child, but for him, it was laden with meaning. After all, after losing Brook and Bobby Jr., he hadn’t thought he’d ever get to be a grandpa.
“Chris…” Bobby started, still searching for the right words. “Where… is this coming from exactly?”
Christopher shifted in his chair. His eyes were now almost glowing with anticipation,
“Well… Dad and Papa told me that Dad made me with my mom.” His face scrunched up in disgust after that. “They also told me how, but it’s really gross and I’m never doing it!”
Bobby couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that. Christopher ignored him and simply moved on.
“My mom couldn’t take care of me, so she left me with Dad and Papa. And even though Papa didn’t make me, he still loves me just as much as if he did,” Chris said. He paused shortly, his lower lip between his teeth. Then he continued. “And you love Papa the same way. So that means you’re my grandpa, right?”
That one hit Bobby out of left field and directly in the heart. Of course, it was true. Bobby himself had realized that Buck was more than a subordinate or friend to him. The two cooked together at the station, Bobby helped Buck prepare for his first big Valentine’s Date with Eddie (How had they been married three years, together for nine without ever having a Valentine’s Date?) and when that date ended in the ER with Buck having a hole in his throat, Eddie had called him and asked him to come to the hospital, where he nonchalantly told Bobby he was Buck’s second emergency contact.
And it wasn’t just what they did together either. Whenever Buck pulled one of his stunts, whenever he didn’t answer a call-out, whenever someone else had to drag him out of the rubble, Bobby’s heart dropped, and he desperately prayed to God, “please not again, I’m begging you, Lord!”
Bobby had to face it. Buck had felt like a son to him for a while now.
The thing is, it terrified him.
A cold shiver ran down his spine, contrasting the blistering heat he suddenly felt in his face. The image of the apartment building back in St. Paul, flames licking up its façade, flashed before his eyes. The familiar feeling of getting dragged away from the door, of being pushed toward the ambulance taking Marcy to the hospital, of people holding him back as they carry out the bodies of Brook and Bobby Jr.
Bobby’s breath got caught in his throat, and the lump there seemed to grow bigger. It was his fault. If Bobby hadn’t been a junky, the fire never would have started and Marcy and the kids would still be alive. He killed them, and now he thought he could just, what, replace them? He’d already replaced Marcy, Athena firmly slotted into her place, so replacing the kids with Buck fit right into it, didn’t it? Get someone else in their place, forget they ever existed, like the pathetic little excuse of a man he was.
They didn’t deserve to be forgotten. Hell, he didn’t deserve to forget . Yet, that was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Replacing his lost family with new connections, finding solace in the eyes of another child, allowing himself to laugh and love again. Was it betrayal? Was he dishonoring their memory?
His hands began to shake, the fork clinking against the plate as he set it down. His heart was pounding in his chest, echoing the screams he still heard in his nightmares, the pleas for help that he couldn't answer. Bobby looked down, unable to meet Christopher's gaze. How could he explain this to a child? How could he justify his own existence when he had failed so utterly before?
Memories washed over him, each one a vivid reminder of his failure. He saw Marcy's face, heard the laughter of Brook and Bobby Jr., felt the warmth of their embrace. At the same time, there were the crackling of flames, the wailing of sirens, the empty void that consumed his heart.
He hadn’t felt like this since Chimney had taken him to meet Asha and her parents, this tiny little human being, wrapped in a blanket, embraced by the parents that loved her. And he helped with his blood transfusion.
Chimney had been right that day. His blood, special and rare, wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing, a gift to use as a tool for his own redemption. But redemption was a slow, painful process. It wasn't something that happened overnight. It required understanding, forgiveness, and growth.
Bobby’s eyes were pressed shut, and he willed his hands to stop shaking. He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out again. He repeated it several times, calming himself down, and forcing those thoughts out.
He wasn’t replacing Marcy and the kids. He’d never forget them because he loved them. Athena hadn’t taken Marcy’s place, he’d just made new place for her. And really, why shouldn’t he be able to do the same for Buck, and by extension Eddie and Christopher?
He was suddenly aware of Christopher in front of him. He got up from his seat and kneeled down in front of the little boy, taking his hands in his.
“I’d be honored to be your grandpa, Chris!” he said, tears forming in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips.
Chris's face broke into a wide, toothy grin, and he launched himself into Bobby's arms, wrapping his small limbs around his newly-minted grandpa. They stayed like that for a long moment, the weight of the conversation lifting as the room filled with the warmth of their embrace.
Bobby could feel Christopher's heart beating against his chest, full of life and innocence. And as he held him there, something inside Bobby shifted. It was as if the door that had been sealed shut on his past had cracked open just a bit, allowing a sliver of light to shine through.
"You really mean it?" Christopher's voice was muffled against Bobby's shoulder, his words tinged with hope and disbelief. “You went really silent and I thought…”
“I really mean it, Chris!” Bobby cut in, breaking their embrace to take Christopher’s face in his hands. “Just… you know how those people who said you’re hard to care for made you sad?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s kinda like that, but the person is my brain instead”, Bobby explained.
Christopher raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I… don’t think I get it…”
“I’m glad you don’t, honestly!”
Bobby chuckled, ruffling Christopher's hair. The complexities of guilt and loss were far too intricate for a child to comprehend, and he was thankful for that. Christopher's innocence was something to be cherished, something pure in a world that often seemed anything but.
“It’s just that sometimes, old people like me have funny ways of thinking about things. But what’s important is that I love you, and I’m really, really happy to be your grandpa,” he explained, his voice soft, but firm.
Christopher's eyes sparkled with understanding, and his lips curled into a smile that radiated sheer joy. "I love you too, Grandpa!"
Bobby ruffled Christopher’s hair one last time before getting up. “Now let’s do the dishes together, huh?”
*
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. After the dishes, Bobby and Chris sat down for Mario Kart (Bobby lost again . Chris apparently actually is just that good), before Chris decided he wanted to draw.
Bobby used this time to pack up the rest of the goulash, the tiramisu and the cookies for Buck and Eddie to later take with them.
Having done his chores for the day, Bobby prepared a cup of coffee for himself and one hot chocolate for Chris and sat down beside the boy.
“Grandpa, look!”, Chris exclaimed, pushing his drawing over. Bobby eagerly took it.
It was a simple family picture. Five figures were standing on a speck of grass, the sun shining in the upper corner. The three central people were easy to identify as Chris himself and his fathers, Buck standing slightly taller than his husband, the birthmark clearly displayed as a splotch of pink on his brow. Buck’s arm was around Eddie’s shoulders, his arm was around Buck’s waist, and their free hands were on Christopher’s shoulders.
What gave Bobby pause were the other two people. One was a tall man with neat brown hair, who also had a hand on Buck’s shoulder. The other one was a slightly shorter woman, her dark skin in contrast to the pink of everyone else.
“That’s you,” Christopher explained, pointing at the man. He then moved over to the woman. “And that’s Grandma Athena.”
Chris paused for a second. “I still have to ask her if that’s okay…”
Bobby was speechless. He’d been Christopher’s grandfather for just a few short hours, but he was already in a family portrait. With a smile on his face, he grabbed the paper and made his way to the kitchen. He fished a magnet out of a drawer and proudly pinned the drawing to the fridge.
He proudly looked at it for a few moments, his finger gently stroking Christopher’s self portrait, positioned front and center. How had this little boy chosen him, of all people, as a part of the family?
He let out a satisfied sigh when a realization hit him all of a sudden.
“Chris, you realize that Athena being your grandma means Harry’s your Uncle, right?”
*
By the time six o’clock rolled around and the doorbell rang, Chris and Bobby had played several rounds of Go Fish (Chris is Psychic. That’s the only explanation). Bobby sent Chris to gather his things and then went to open the door.
“Hey,” Buck greeted, stepping into the apartment. “He wasn’t too much trouble, right?”
“Oh, he was the worst,” Bobby said playfully. “Absolutely unbearable, how have you raised him to end up this awful?”
“I’m a menace!” Christopher’s cheery voice rang from the living room.
“Well, it seems I’ve taught him well, huh?” Buck laughed with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
A fond smile crept onto Bobby’s face. How had he ever denied that Buck was his kid?
“Yes, you certainly have,” Bobby said, shaking his head in amusement. He glanced back toward the living room where Christopher was closing up his backpack and his smile softened. He turned to Buck, his voice a bit more serious. “But really, he was great. We had a good time.”
Buck’s eyes narrowed slightly. His head tilted slightly to the right as he studied Bobby.
“Are you sure everythings okay?”, he asked in a low tone, taking a step closer. Bobby sighed deeply.
“He… had a bit of a crisis earlier today,” he explained. Buck's face hardened as Bobby told him about Christopher’s fear of being a burden. Understandably so, Bobby thought. He’d have been pissed too if Brook or Bobby Jr. confessed they felt this way. Heck, he felt his heart break every time Buck got that kicked-puppy-look when he felt inadequate for whatever reason.
“Yeah, Eddie and I will have to talk to him about that”, Buck mumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his brow furrowed in thought.
“I’m ready!” Chris called as he walked over, making Buck’s face light up again.
“Okay, how about you head out, Superman? Dad and the car are just outside the door”, he said, patting Chris on the back(pack). “I gotta talk to Bobby about something, but I’ll be right out, okay?”
“Okay, Papa,” Chris nodded. He walked over to Bobby and threw his arms around his middle. “Bye Grandpa! Today was awesome!”
Bobby decidedly ignored Buck’s raised eyebrow and instead knelt down to hug Christopher properly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, champ! You can come by any time, okay?”
Chris gave an affirmative nod and cheer before leaving the apartment and walking down the hall, Buck looking after him to make sure Eddie got him.
“Grandpa?” Buck asked Bobby after he got back in. Bobby had moved to the kitchen to grab the bag full of food he prepared earlier. He shrugged at Buck’s question.
“Yeah”, he said nonchalantly, moving back to where Buck was standing. There was a bright smile on his face, and he was quite confident in what he was about to say. “Chris is your son, you’re mine. That makes him my grandson.”
Buck’s eyes went wide. “I… you…”, he stammered out, clearly overwhelmed by the assertion. Bobby smiled fondly as Buck struggled to formulate his thoughts. He was Buck’s Dad, he was allowed to bask in his awkwardness a little.
Bobby watched Buck's face, waiting patiently as the realization sank in. Buck’s face went from shock to confusion to relief.
“I…” he started. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”
“Not gonna lie,” Bobby started. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms loosely crossed in front of his chest. His smile, soft and warm, was still there, front and center. “I was scared when I first realized it. After everything that happened in St. Paul I wasn’t sure if I should be allowed to be a Dad again, let alone a Grandpa.”
“Bobby, that’s-” Buck started, but Bobby held up his hand, prompting him to stop.
“I decided I am,” he continued, now moving closer to Buck. “I spent a lot of time trying to numb this pain I feel, to think I was a monster, that I should be punished and die as slowly and painfully as possible.”
Buck’s face fell. He shifted awkwardly, clearly not knowing what to do. “Bobby…”
“But, thanks to therapy, and the support of Athena, and the team and you ”, he emphasized, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I realized that I was wrong. Marcy and the kids are my fault-”
“The building wasn’t up to code!” Buck cut in, clearly infuriated that Bobby would blame himself. “It’s the owner’s fault! Not yours!”
“I still set the fire,” Bobby said. “Maybe it’s not entirely my fault, but partially, it absolutely is.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree then,” Buck replied. “Because I don’t think you’re at fault at all!”
“Buck, what I’m trying to say is,” Bobby exclaimed., growing somewhat exasperated by Buck’s cut ins. “I think all this? You and Chris and Athena? Being a father and boyfriend and partner again? It took a lot of time and healing to get here. But I’m ready now.”
“I…”, Buck began to stammer again. “I don’t want to, like, replace-”
“You aren’t replacing them,” Bobby pointed out. “I have three kids, Buck. Brook, Bobby,... and you.”
Buck surged forward, embracing Bobby in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he sobbed. He clung to Bobby like life depended on it. “Thank you, thank you.”
Bobby softly stroked Buck's hair, allowing his presence to calm Buck down. He pressed a soft kiss to his hair, keeping Buck’s trembling form safe within his arms.
"You don't need to thank me," Bobby whispered, his voice thick with affection. "You're my family, Buck. Always have been."
After a few minutes, Buck pulled away, his eyes red but a radiant smile on his face. "I better head out before Eddie sends a search party. But Bobby... You have no idea how much this means to me. Not just today."
Bobby's heart swelled with pride and affection. He ruffled Buck's hair, grinning. "Go be with your family. And remember, you've got a standing invitation here. You, Eddie, and Chris are always welcome."
With a final, lingering look, Buck grabbed the bag of food and headed out the door, leaving Bobby alone in the apartment. The silence felt different now, filled with the warmth of Christopher’s laughter and Buck’s affirmation and love. He moved back to the fridge and looked at Christopher's drawing again.
Bobby smiled to himself. He ran his fingers across the drawing one last time and then went to prepare dinner for himself.
*
Later that night, Bobby was in bed, reading a book, when his phone lit up. Bobby smiled and they sent a few messages back and forth. By the time he put his phone down, Bobby sighed happily.
Today was a good day.