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It was spring when Buck asked, dinner on the table and a compliment on his lips. "Marry me," he had groaned through a mouthful. It wasn't intentional, wasn't nearly as serious as the ring in his bedside drawer or the speech he practiced until his showers ran cold.
Eddie said yes anyways.
He would have married him that same day, disregarding that it was well past closing time at the courthouse, if it weren't for the look in Eddie's eye when Buck gave him his ring. There was something wistful there, like the ghost of a wedding he had never gotten was taking refuge in the hollows of his pupils.
Eddie had told him once, offhand, about his wedding with Shannon. A rushed thing in their church, baby bump not yet visible, vows that felt more like apologies. I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry for caring for you, I'm sorry we will be together until death do us part.
Buck knew Eddie deserved something more. A wedding fortified by love and devotion, devoid of outside pressures, brimming with the dedication that constantly spilled from their every orifice.
So he bit his tongue on the courthouse, suggested they planned exactly what they wanted, and Eddie looked at him with the type of softness only found in a man in love.
It's fall now, although that doesn't make much of a difference in LA. Buck can still feel it though, felt it in the breeze this morning and his bones in the afternoon. Something changing, shifting, beginning. The transition into the warmth of hibernation, the last step before they are huddled close and sharing in their warmth.
It was kind of Bobby and Athena to offer up their backyard, considering they had only been in their house for a few months before the engagement. Buck hasn't gotten a chance to see it yet, but he had seen the team stocking up on enough fairy lights and silk chiffon to last a lifetime, so he's sure it looks magical.
He stands now in one of the guest bedrooms, eyes locked on his reflection in the mirror. He doesn't think he's ever felt more calm in his life, actually, with none of the jitters or uncertainties that people always talk about before walking down the aisle. If anything, he feels settled, secured, safe.
A knock on the door draws his attention. "Come in," he calls, all wide smiles and excitement.
Christopher looks happy, Buck thinks. He's got a small grin on his face, fairy lights and flowers lacing his crutches and pocket squares to match Buck and Eddie's suits. He's sure Chris came over from Eddie's room, considering his role of Best Man and the slight hint of red under his eyes that he always gets when he's feeling strong emotions.
"How are you feeling?" Buck asks anyways. "Are you ready for this?"
For a moment, he thinks he sees something flicker in Chris's eyes. But just as fast, it's gone. "Yeah! It feels like you guys were engaged forever."
Buck considers letting whatever he saw go, just basking in the wedding glows and maybe bringing it up in a few days instead. But this is Chris, this is the guy who's tied for first in Buck's heart.
He sits down on the bed, ignoring Maddie's voice in his head warning about wrinkles and creases, and pats the spot next to him. Christopher groans playfully, but takes his seat.
"Seriously, kid," Buck starts, hand going to Chris's shoulder, "if you're feeling anything besides happy, you can tell me. I may be marrying your dad, but I'm also marrying into your family. It's okay if you have some mixed feelings about that."
Chris laughs in disbelief. "No, no, it's not that. You've felt like my dad's husband for years now. This really isn't changing anything."
"Then what is it?"
He hesitates, clearly parsing his words. Buck thinks to himself that there's nothing Christopher could say that would hurt him, that would make him love him any less.
"My feelings are complicated," he finally settles on, eyes wide as he looks at Buck. "I love you a lot, and I'm glad that this is finally happening, but I can't help but think about my mom."
God, all the wedding planning in the world, and all the talks about what getting married would mean for Christopher, and neither he nor Eddie stopped to think about how Shannon would fit into it all for Chris. He is older now, all gangly and pimpled as he traverses his teen years, but looking at Chris now, all Buck can see are the wide doe eyes of the eight year old without a mom.
"I understand," Buck says, a little bit lamely. "I'm sure it's hard, seeing your dad remarry."
Chris shakes his head emphatically. "No, that's not it, I swear." His hand shoots up to grab Buck's on his shoulder, fingers wrapping loosely around Buck's. "It's not hard at all. And I've never felt like you're trying to replace her, or whatever."
Buck is a little embarrassed by the wave of relief that pulses through him. He would have hated it, but if Chris had changed his mind, had told Buck he wasn't ready for it, Buck would have called the whole thing off. Christopher first, himself second.
"So what is it then?" He asks.
Chris shifts next to him. He's always been decently confident, Buck has thought, but now, he seems wrought with anxiety. "Did you know the first time I wore a suit was to her funeral?"
It catches Buck off-guard. He's not sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn't that. "Uh, no. I didn't."
Chris sniffs. "It's okay. I mean, I think it kind of makes me sad that she never got a chance to see me wear a suit. Isn't that one of those milestones that all parents look forward to?"
Buck takes his arm and wraps it fully and Chris's shoulder, pulling him in as close as he can. It still doesn't feel close enough. "I think when you're a parent, everything feels like a milestone."
Christopher's laugh is wet with the tears he's been holding in. "Yeah, I knew you'd say that. It's all still hard, though. I don't really have too many memories of her."
"Oh God, are we not doing enough?" Buck frets. Eddie makes sure to talk about her all the time, and they picnic where she rests once a month, laying out a blanket and pouring her favorite malbec into the grass just in front of her headstone. They try, really, because Shannon is still as important as she was.
"No, seriously, you guys are great." Chris clears his throat and looks away. "Sometimes she feels secondhand. I hear all the stories from Dad about what we used to do together, and I see all the pictures, and it feels like a fantasy. It's like she and I used to exist together, but now we never will again."
"Oh man, I had no idea." Buck's heart is racing, his brain pounding the same old mantra of fix it, fix it, fix it that he's never managed to shake. But he's sat here with the best kid in the world, his tears starting to dampen his suit jacket, and he knows it isn't something he can do. "I think - I think even though she isn't here with you right now, that you guys do still exist together."
Chris pushes his head into Buck's chest. "We don't, actually. It's not her fault for dying, but that doesn't make her any less dead."
"Just because she's dead doesn't mean she isn't with you."
Sometimes, it's impossible to ignore how much of a teenager Christopher has become. Now though, the judgement absolutely blaring from his eyes can probably knock Buck over. "Actually, that's exactly what that means."
Buck opens his mouth, a speech dancing on his tongue about the way Chris pulls at his hair like Shannon did when she was nervous, or the way he wrinkles his nose when he laughs just like she did, but it doesn't feel like enough. It feels like the platitudes dropped by polite strangers trying to connect two people through half hearted stitches.
So, he tries something else.
"A few weeks ago, you were working on that project for your physics class. Do you remember it?"
If nothing else, the redirect seems to knock Christopher out of those heavy emotions and remind him of the importance of breathing. "Buck, what -"
"Humor me," he says, one eyebrow raised. "Your physics project."
"We were talking about space," Chris relents. "The relationship between the gravity of two bodies."
"Right!" Buck says eagerly. He's not sure if he's pulling at straws right now. He has an idea, something vague coursing through his mind and trying to find body, but it's not loud enough yet for him to define. "And to help with that, we went to the observatory."
"Which wasn't necessary," Chris reminds him, sounding exactly like Eddie had when Buck had suggested buying the tickets. "Really, I could have done it without the trip."
"Oh, don't pretend you're too cool for the observatory," Buck laughs, nudging him with his shoulder. "No one's too cool for the observatory."
"Whatever," Chris laughs, and then a little begrudgingly, "I did have a good time."
"Thank you," Buck sighs dramatically. He swallows hard, hoping his tongue doesn't get in the way. "You remember how the one astronomer talked about the theory of relativity?"
"The theory of - Buck." Chris's exasperation could probably be heard all the way across the galaxy. "Your wedding is in fifteen minutes, and you're asking me about the theory of relativity?"
"Humor me?"
"Do I ever do anything else?" Christopher's tone is light, so Buck takes it he isn't messing this up too badly. "Yes, I remember about the theory of relativity."
"Einstein coined it," Buck says absently. He can see the display about it now, the demonstrations of lightspeed and the videos on black holes. "Light can only move so fast. We use that to try and see the important things, right?"
"Sure." He's definitely losing Christopher now, if the furrow in his brow is any indicator. "But also I don't know what you mean."
"We've got the James Webb telescope now, out there orbiting the sun," Buck says, and now he's gesturing with his hands a little more aggressively than he means to. "Most powerful telescope ever! It can see billions of lightyears away, look back in time to try and see what the beginning of the universe could have looked like."
Christopher lays a hand on Buck's bicep, patting gently. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I was hoping not to think about school today."
"No - I - I have a point," Buck promises.
Chris's eyes soften. "Okay. I trust you."
Buck would never tire of hearing that. "So, with the theory of relativity, it means that looking far away means always looking into the past. But, that past is then stored into our present. The universe stores everything that's ever happened into light, and it never really goes away."
Chris looks like he might be getting it now, but Buck says it anyways. "Somewhere out there, a million years from now, some alien a million lightyears away is going to point their telescope right at Earth. And they're going to see you with Shannon, and even from across the universe, they're going to see just how much she loved you."
Buck presses a kiss into Christopher's hair. "The universe is always going to hold you and her together. I promise."
Buck had told himself that he was going to save all his tears until he at least hit the altar, but he thinks that this is a good reason to cry a little early. Chris seems to think so, too, judging by the increased sheen over his eyes.
"Thank you," Christopher chokes out, definitely wetter than he intends. He clears his throat. "Thank you. And it's going to hold you and me together, too."
Buck lets out a laugh, choppy with emotion. "I hope so, kid."
"I know so."
Buck sometimes thinks about how lucky he is to have found this family, and how much luckier still he is to be able to call them his.
Other days, it doesn't feel like luck. It feels like this is exactly what he was made for: to hold Christopher, to love Eddie, to simply be happy.
The warmth of it all is in every one of his atoms; he's sure of it.
Buck gives Christopher one last squeeze, one more kiss on the head before he complains he's too old for all of that. "Alright, we're definitely going to be late if we don't get moving now."
"Right," Chris agrees, smoothing out his shirt. "I have to go back to my Dad before he starts to wonder where I went."
They stand up, legs a little shaky and hearts somehow fuller than they were before.
"Okay, it's time for the second-best day of my life," Buck says, wiping at his tears and smiling bright. "I can't wait!"
"Only the second-best?" Chris teases. "What was the best?"
Buck doesn't even hesitate. "The day you asked if you could be a Buckley-Diaz, too."
He gives Christopher one last pat on the back. "Now, come on. Let's go have a wedding."