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“How much flour do we need?” Buck asks, analysing the different kinds available on the shelf. Eddie checks their shopping list.
“Uh- dunno, it just says flour,” he replies, nonplussed. Buck frowns, eyeing a 10lb bag of the all purpose kind in consideration.
“Alright…” he hums, gesturing towards it, “does that look like enough to you?”
Eddie looks at him dubiously, “Are we opening a bakery?” Buck sends him a mock glare.
“No,” he explains, “but last time we screwed up the recipe three times before we got it right, and we ended up using a gazillion 1lb bags.”
Eddie snorts at the exaggeration, “Let's just get a gazillion pound bag, then.”
Buck rolls his eyes, “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Eddie retorts, “I think we spent about five 1lb bags last time, so just get the 5lb one.”
“Fine,” Buck concedes, already reaching for the package and placing it gingerly with the rest of their shopping, “but if we run out, you’re the one coming back to the store.”
“I very much doubt that will happen,” Eddie says, pushing their cart further into the aisle, “but alright.”
“Don’t we also need baking soda?” Buck asks as they pass by that section, and Eddie consults their list again.
“Nope, no baking soda,” he informs.
Buck squints at him. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Eddie confirms, but his partner is already reaching for the paper in his hands, making him sigh.
“Let me see,” Buck says, very much already looking at it. When he doesn’t find what he’s searching for, he mumbles, “huh.”
“Told you,” Eddie grumbles halfheartedly. Buck hands him back their list, smiling sheepishly.
“Sorry,” he says. Eddie simply shakes his head, amused, and begins moving forward again.
“Now we just need butter and eggs,” he relays, turning right from the baking aisle.
“We should also get snacks,” Buck suggests. “Chris has been wanting to try that new Coke flavour. The oreo one.”
“Ugh, no,” Eddie twists his nose, “isn’t that thing pure sugar?”
“It’s not, actually,” Buck says smartly, then rethinks. “This one, at least. It’s zero.”
“It’ll still rot your teeth, Buck,” Eddie teases, deadpan, making Buck laugh.
“That’s why they invented toothbrushes, Eddie,” he tries his best to match Eddie’s tone. He’s only half successful, but Eddie laughs anyway.
“Still, I can’t believe you, of all people, want to buy our kid soda,” Eddie complains, stopping their cart at the frozen goods aisle. Buck’s heart still warms everytime he calls Christopher ‘their kid.’
“What do you mean, me of all people?” Buck grumbles, just to be difficult. He scans the fridge for their usual brand of butter, finds it and adds two sticks of it to their shopping.
“Don’t act like you don’t check the nutritional value of gum before you chew it,” Eddie jokes. Buck huffs. He is not that bad.
“Sorry for caring about my body fat percentage,” he argues back, making a show of puffing out his chest. Eddie rolls his eyes, shoving his arm lightly.
“Get a move on, will you, I’m dying to get out of here,” he begs.
“Aye Aye,” Buck complies, moving toward the back shelving. Once they get there, he eyes the egg cartons suspiciously. “Do you really think these chickens are pasture raised?”
Eddie groans loudly, “Not this again.” Buck looks at him, scandalised.
“Just think about it, Eds! How do we actually know?” He rants. Eddie looks at the high ceilings, defeated. “It says so on the package, but really, who’s telling us the truth? These eggs aren’t gonna.”
“The FDA just might,” Eddie says, exasperated.
“Oh, please, like you can trust the government,” Buck volleys back.
“We work for the government, Buck.”
“All I’m saying, Eddie,” Buck makes a point of grabbing one of the cartons, pointing at the ‘pasture raised’ sticker, “is that you can’t believe everything you read until you’ve verified it for yourself.” Eddie squints at him.
“Is that… a line from our online etiquette seminar?” He asks, incredulous.
“I’m a dedicated student,” Buck defends himself, head held high. Eddie despairs.
“So, what, you wanna go check if the chickens at…” he looks at the packaging in his partner’s hands “... Dapper Dairy Farms are getting the care they deserve?”
Buck looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head sadly. “You just don’t get it,” he says, before walking off, taking the eggs with him.
Eddie sighs. At least they avoided the tears this time, he thinks, already moving to follow.
“Buck,” he calls out once they’re side by side again. When he doesn't even get a glance, he tries again. “I’m sorry I’m not a better ally… to chickens.” Buck does look at him, then. His eyes are a bit teary, Eddie notes. Damn.
“They just deserve so much better, Eds,” he says morosely.
“I know,” Eddie agrees. They’d watched a documentary about it together. Buck sniffles. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think they’d lie about pasture raising their chickens,” he appeases, “I don’t… think they’re allowed to do that, actually.”
“You’re probably right,” Buck mumbles, finally placing the eggs in their cart, then sighs, already moving on. “Is that all?”
Eddie knows it is, but checks their list again just to be sure. “Looks like it,” he replies.
“Oh!” Buck exclaims, brightening up. “Should we get some pumpkin spice?” Eddie gives him a strange look.
“Aren’t we making lemon blondies?” he questions. Buck looks at him like he’s an idiot.
“It’s almost Halloween,” he explains, “we might need some, you never know.”
“I see,” Eddie mumbles, “so we are opening a bakery.”
Buck, having had enough, theatrically shoves him out of the way, taking the cart away from his hands.
“What–”
“You just lost your cart privileges,” Buck simply says, already moving away. Eddie follows, dumbstruck.
“My cart privileges?”
“Yup,” He replies, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. Eddie might actually be speechless. Buck looks at him, sees his confused face, and sighs as if put upon.
“You’ve been arguing with me over every single thing since we woke up this morning,” he explains, walking briskly towards the self checkout, “so I’m taking away your cart privileges. If you have something to say, just say it.” Eddie flounders.
“I have not-”
“Look, there he goes again,” Buck interrupts, sing-songy, stopping their cart at the end of the checkout line. It’s a busy Saturday morning, he notes. When he looks at Eddie again, he finds him looking lost a couple feet away.
“...Eddie,” he says eventually, “if there’s something going on…”
The man in question sighs, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Sorry, you’re right, I have been… grumpy,” he half-agrees, half-apologises. Buck measures him carefully.
“Just grumpy?” He asks carefully. Eddie smiles, chagrined.
“I’ve been… worried,” he admits, “about the next PTA meeting.”
Buck frowns, moving forward in line. “Why?” he asks softly. Eddie’s mouth twists.
“I overheard a couple parents talking, last time,” he explains slowly, “they… implied… that Christopher came in last at the bake sale because he has two dads, instead of…”
“What?!” Buck exclaims, perhaps a bit too loudly. A couple people turn and stare. He gives them a passive smile, then turns towards Eddie, whisper shouting, “What the fuck?!”
“I know,” Eddie says, lamely, “so I guess I’ve just been dreading it, is all.” Buck looks like he might pop a blood vessel.
“Who was it?” He asks, then instantly course-corrects, “You know what, actually, don’t tell me. I might go to jail, and then Christopher would only have one dad instead of two,” he finishes, bitter.
“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Eddie explains, unhappy, “now we’re both upset.” Buck shakes his head.
“No,” he disagrees, reaching for Eddie’s hand, “you should tell me these things. We can deal with them together.”
After a comforting squeeze, however, he continues, “We need a plan, of course, I mean, we can’t just take this lying down. Especially if it was Debra - but don’t tell me if it was! We might need to go back and grab a couple more things but-”
“Buck,” Eddie interrupts, wary of the manic gleam in his partner's eyes, “what are you talking about?” Buck looks at him like he’s the one who’s being strange.
“Eddie,” he says, voice too grave for their setting,“someone questioned our ability to raise our son. That means war.”
Eddie laughs brightly at Buck’s antics, spirits already rising back up. “Does it?”
“Yes,” he confirms, “now we just gotta figure out how to bake the best goddamn blondies anyone’s ever seen.”
“...Right,” Eddie says, a bit hysterical. “And what do you suggest, Captain Buck?”
Buck shoots him an amused look as they finally reach the front of the line. He begins unloading their things, already scheming, “I mean, obviously we aren’t gonna make them.”
Eddie snorts, moving to bag the already scanned items, “Yeah, because cheating our way through a bake sale is the right way to prove we’re fit to raise a kid.” Buck waves a dismissive hand in his direction, weighing a bag of lemons on the checkout machine.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, “good parenting is also recognizing when you need help.” Eddie… doesn’t really have an argument to that. Except…
“Did you read that in a book?” He questions, amused. By the way Buck’s cheeks flush, the answer’s yes.
“No,” Buck lies, “That’s just something I heard… somewhere.” God, Eddie loves him so much it’s kind of absurd.
“So we’re going store bought,” he figures, letting the matter drop (for now). Buck looks offended at the suggestion.
“Absolutely not!” He says, “We’re recruiting for this.”
“Alright,” Eddie agrees easily, placing the brown sugar in a bag along with the flour. “Who do you have in mind?” Buck scans the last of their items before replying.
“We can’t ask just anyone,” he says with heat in his voice, “I mean, we’re talking first place here. Blue ribbon and all.”
Eddie eyes him carefully, watching as he grabs their cart with what’s perhaps a bit too much force. “...This is important to you,” he deducts.
Buck looks at him like he’s being purposefully slow. They start making their way out of the store. “Eddie,” he explains, “last time… Well, we weren’t an official couple then. Now, though…”
Eddie’s confusion clears. This guy…
“You want them to see you’re a good dad,” he figures out. Buck nods, determined.
“That’s not all, I mean… I just…” he sighs “Yes, I want them to see me as a good father figure, but it’s more than that. I want people to think we’re good together. That we make a good team.”
Eddie feels himself soften impossibly more. “We do make a good team, Buck,” he assures him. “We don’t have to prove anything to those people.”
They walk in companionable silence for a moment.
“I know,” Buck says eventually, “I just… don’t like it when people question our family.” And Eddie… knows how that feels. God, does he ever.
“I’m being silly,” Buck mumbles, but Eddie’s already determined.
“You’re not,” he says firmly. “If you recall, I’ve been upset too. I mean, sure, I was more taken aback by the latent homophobia, but…” He grabs Buck’s elbow, forcing them to look at each other. “I’ve got your back, Buck,” he promises, voice soft and entirely too gentle for a supermarket parking lot, “always.”
“Eddie…” Buck’s shoulders slump. Eddie takes the chance to switch their positions, moving to push their cart forward.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, “We’ll show those assholes we’re the best parents, partners and bakers in town.” Buck laughs, already more calm, and starts to follow suit.
“I don’t know about the baking part, though…” He tapers off.
“Who were you planning on asking, anyway?” Eddie asks as they finally reach the truck. Buck smiles at him, sheepish in a way that can already mean one thing.
“About that…”
==//==
Athena, as it turns out, makes a killer lemon blondie, which earns them first place at the 8th grade bake sale. She also has, in turn, an entire list of manual chores for them to complete at her house, which takes them a whole day to finish. It’s totally worth it to see the look on Debra Sterling’s face, though.