Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The year is 2009 , and the earth has officially spun around the sun eighteen times since Evan Buckley  was born. A milestone, but an oddly hollow one—his parents are not home, as they’ve never been on his birthday. 

At one point, he would’ve cared, but that was so many rotations ago . 

He’s almost grown used to it. 

Almost. 

So there’s no tension or disappointment lingering in the air; he’s learned not to care about their absence, or at least to pretend he doesn’t.

What Evan can’t quite brush off, though, is the silence —a stark, yawning void where Maddie should be. 

She’s never missed his birthday, never . Not once. 

Maddie, who has always been there for him, who somehow made a tradition out of showing up on this day no matter what.

Sure, she hadn’t lived at home for nearly six years now, but that didn’t matter. Whether by train, by bus, or driving across town, she always found her way back to him for this day, a small anchor against the waves of loneliness he otherwise found himself drifting in.

Things changed, though, after Maddie’s wedding. The calls and texts grew less frequent, and the visits, even rarer. But he believed in his heart that today would be different, that she’d remember how much he hated spending his birthday alone. 

(In truth, Evan hated being alone every day, but if he could pick one day to have someone near, it would be today.)

His thoughts are tangled, unwilling to admit it, but deep down, he’d thought she understood what today meant for him. That it wasn’t just another day. Even after all the silences and fading conversations that came with her new life, he believed that if there was one day she'd still remember him , it would be this one.

So he waited. 

And waited . 

Every hour that slipped by tightened the ache in his chest. He told himself she’d be there . 

He waited until the banks were on the verge of closing, straining for the sound of her laugh, her knock on the door, something , anything to keep him tethered. But the day’s shadows stretched longer and colder until there was nothing left but the dark realization that Maddie wasn’t coming.

It got late enough that he knew his parents would be on their way home from wherever they’d been. They always returned eventually, like clockwork, as though their absence were just another predictable part of the day. But he wasn’t going to be there when they did.

Because that’s when Evan made his decision.

With a resigned sigh, Evan grabbed his jacket, slipping out of the house just as the sky began to melt into sunset. He’d waited all day, lingering by the windows and pacing the empty hallway, giving Maddie every chance to change his mind. But as the sun sank lower and she didn’t show, he knew he couldn’t keep waiting. It was time for him to make a choice of his own.

He caught the bus just in time, heading downtown toward the bank. He’d gained access to his trust fund today, a sum saved up carefully over the years, meant for college and whatever future he might one day carve out for himself. 

But he didn’t need college, didn’t need the careful plans and ambitions that anchored him to this place. If this was the kind of life waiting for him, alone and echoing , then why stay? He withdrew every dollar from the account. It was more than he expected but just enough to start over.

Evan walked to the nearest used car lot, handed over his future in cash, and drove off with the cheapest car on the lot. It was worn, creaky, and tasted faintly of someone else’s cigarettes, but it was his ticket out . He drove, letting the road stretch out in front of him, unsure of the destination but certain that anywhere was better than here .

Today, in his eighteenth year, Evan finally found the courage to disappear.

The year is 2011 , and Shannon Kelley is living her best life. Being nineteen in El Paso may not be quite the glossy drama of Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure, but it's close enough for her. She’s got her mom by her side, friends to stir up memories with, and she’s making sure she’s living —grabbing hold of life with the kind of unfiltered joy only youth can muster.

Shannon’s never been one to go chasing wild flings, though she’s open to a little adventure. She’s had her share of experiences, sure, but always with people she trusted . She liked the connection, the familiarity that made everything feel more real, more meaningful. But tonight? Tonight is something different.

Her neighbor’s daughter is turning twenty-one , and she’s managed to wrangle a free house for the occasion, complete with a generous supply of alcohol. Shannon was invited, of course, and she wasn’t going to turn down a good party. It started small, just a few friends, but it swelled until the rooms were packed with bodies and laughter and the bright, fizzy edge of excitement.

And that’s when she saw him—a guy who radiated charm and confidence in equal measure. Smooth-tongued and undeniably hot . They talked, they laughed, and somewhere in the haze of it all, they drifted off into her friend’s bathroom, one thing leading to another in a blur of impulsive decisions and heat .

The very next day, Shannon does what everyone’s been waiting for—she asks Eddie Diaz out. Her best friend since forever, Eddie’s painfully shy, the kind of guy who’d never make a move without a nudge, but she’s always been happy to take the lead. It’s something everyone expected; friends had been predicting their future since high school, saying they’d end up together. And why not? He’s sweet, steady, and spending time with him feels like home.

And then, a month later, there’s a little plus sign on a pregnancy test. No one questions who the father is—not her, not her friends, not her newly-minted boyfriend. 

What's more, she doesn’t even think about it twice; they’d been careful, she and the charming stranger (who she never thought about again), just like her and Eddie, and she trusts him. Besides , he’s her husband now, the one promising he’ll be there for her, for the child. That’s all that matters.

Even when he’s shipped off to Afghanistan the day after she gives birth. Even when his family feels like more of a burden than a support. Even when the doctors quietly deliver a diagnosis—her child has cerebral palsy, a condition that will shape the rest of their lives—she clings to the assurance that she doesn’t need to question the who or the why .

She has him , and that will have to be enough.

The year is 2025. Six years have passed since Shannon’s last breath on a warm May afternoon, eight years of her youth drained away by the heartbreak, the relentless weight of others’ expectations, the aching loss of her mother, and the endless cycle of trying to outrun her own pain, only to find it always there, waiting. 

Too many days fighting against currents too strong to escape. 

Now Eddie, who still feels the empty spaces she left behind, lives in Los Angeles, raising Christopher on his own, though he’s far from alone. 

Somehow, Buck is always there too—a friendship forged by a twist of fate as unlikely as a one-in-a-thousand chance. Eddie never planned to leave Texas, and Buck can barely remember his one, brief brush with it. But Los Angeles? It became their common ground, a city that holds them both steady, each man filling the empty spaces left by life’s twists and losses.

With Buck, Eddie has found something solid, a presence that feels more like family than friendship. 

Buck’s always there, walking alongside them, careful not to overstep, never crowding the space that belongs to Eddie and Chris but standing ready, a constant, quiet support. He’s become a part of the rhythm of their days, giving his all to be there when Eddie needs a steadying hand and when Chris needs a second hero to lean on. 

And so, they’ve built something together, not by blood but by choice—this family that fate somehow pieced together across the threads of their lives.

Eddie is a firefighter in Los Angeles, a career that keeps him grounded, keeps him sharp, even when life has felt like a mountain he could never quite climb. Buck is there too, his partner in more than just the job, though that’s where it all began—two strangers thrown together on their first save, a rescue that bound them in an unspoken pact neither one has ever broken. 

Since that day, Buck’s become a second anchor in Eddie’s life, someone he trusts beyond words, someone he’s entrusted with the thing that matters most: Christopher.

There’s a will, quietly sitting in a file somewhere, where Eddie made it clear that, should anything ever happen to him, it’s Buck who will take care of Chris. It wasn’t a decision made lightly; Buck isn’t just a friend—he’s the person Eddie knows will put Chris first, love him fiercely, and, above all, understand the boy in a way few others do.

And in the days when Eddie felt like he was drowning in paperwork, red tape, and the endless obstacles that kept piling up as he tried to support Chris, Buck was there, like a lifeline. 

It was Buck who introduced him to Carla, all those years ago, a woman who turned out to be a gift Eddie hadn’t realized he needed. Carla understood the world of paperwork and loopholes in ways Eddie could barely fathom, and with her steady, no-nonsense guidance, Eddie found a way to keep breathing, to keep fighting through the bureaucracy for Christopher’s needs. 

Carla became a pillar of strength in her own right, someone who knew how to navigate the maze and light a path forward.

But Buck has been Eddie’s constant through it all. 

He’s Chris’s friend and mentor, Eddie’s partner, his support. 

He’s woven into the fabric of their lives—sitting at their dinner table, laughing at Chris’s jokes, cheering at his accomplishments, and quietly reassuring them both during the hard nights. Buck is Eddie’s second biggest support, only after Carla, who’s as much a rock as she is a guide. 

Yet even then, it’s Buck who Eddie relies on the most, someone who’s there day after day, always within reach, always ready to lend his strength and his heart.

In Buck, Eddie has found a partner who, in many ways, feels like the family he’s been searching for all along—a friendship forged in fire, solid as iron, carrying Eddie forward through the weight of every twist life throws at him.

The day starts like any other, until it absolutely doesn’t .

Eddie’s on his way to work when his phone rings, Carla’s name flashing on the screen. 

Her voice is steady, but there’s an urgency there that sets Eddie’s heart racing. It’s an emergency, something that’s pulled her away from LA without warning, and she won’t be able to take care of Chris for a few days. She barely has time to explain before she has to go, leaving Eddie with a sick feeling and a clock ticking down fast— Chris will need someone to pick him up from school in just a few hours.

He quickly scrambles to make other plans, reaching out to one of the moms from Chris’s class, someone he trusts enough to lean on in a pinch. She agrees, understanding the situation, and Eddie’s relief is almost palpable as he gets ready to head into work, reassuring himself that Chris will be in good hands, even if everything feels a little off-kilter without Carla around.

The day is its usual high-octane blur, with alarms blaring and calls for rescues that keep Eddie and Buck moving nonstop. They’re barely catching their breath when Eddie’s phone rings again, cutting through the noise. The call comes while Eddie’s in the middle of restocking gear, a monotonous task that lets his mind drift, focusing instead on what he’ll do with Chris once they’re home tonight. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, barely registering as he stuffs supplies into compartments, but the name on the screen brings everything to a standstill: Los Angeles Memorial Hospital .

He presses the phone to his ear, voice already thick with dread as he answers, “This is Eddie Diaz.”

There’s a rushed voice on the other end, almost drowned by static. “Mr. Diaz, this is Nurse Santos from Los Angeles Memorial. Your son, Christopher Diaz, has been in an accident.”

The words slam into him like a punch, leaving his world tilting on its axis. Eddie grips the edge of the compartment, his knuckles white, struggling to steady himself against the dizzying wave of fear.

The voice continues, words cascading over him in a blur. “There was a car accident... paramedics brought him in… he’s stable, but we couldn’t wait for consent for a transfusion. We also didn’t know his blood type initially, and it took a moment to verify—”

Eddie barely hears the rest, his mind stuck on two words that replay over and over, car accident , burning into his mind, drilling into his chest, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

The sound of the hospital’s name and “Christopher Diaz” together ripples across the station like a shockwave, bringing everything to an abrupt halt. His crew stands frozen, eyes wide, expressions ranging from shock to sympathy. But it’s Buck who moves first, stepping toward Eddie, already looking around for keys for a vehicle, his focus trained entirely on Eddie, who’s still gripping the phone, his face pale, barely breathing.

"Eddie," Buck says, voice low and steady, pulling him back, grounding him just enough to take a few shaky steps forward. “We’ll get you there, right now.”

The ride to the hospital is a haze, a spiraling, disorienting whirl of worst-case scenarios. Eddie’s mind races, circling around an early, unshakable grief, the gnawing terror that he’s too late , that Chris is alone and scared, or—no, he can’t go there, can’t even finish the thought. 

His breath catches at each turn, and he forces himself to focus on breathing, on getting there, on not letting the panic engulf him entirely, his eyes fixed on the scenery blurring past, but each time he closes his eyes, images flash before him—memories of Chris laughing, of the way he lights up when he’s excited, of the sound of his voice calling Eddie “Dad.” All of it is woven with the panic, the disbelief, the all-encompassing dread that twists his stomach and tightens his throat, suffocating him.

They arrive at the hospital, and Buck is still there, guiding Eddie out of the truck, keeping a hand on his shoulder as they make their way inside. The hospital feels like a labyrinth, and Eddie can’t focus on anything but getting to Chris, doesn’t even register his own breathing, doesn’t notice the sweat trickling down his face. 

A nurse meets them, introducing herself and leading them further in. “Christopher is stable,” she says, her voice calm and practiced, “but the impact was on the left side where he was sitting. The other passengers are mostly unharmed, but he took the brunt of it.”

But Eddie can’t process the words. His thoughts are a tangled mess of relief and fear, memories of Shannon’s accident and the agonizing possibility of losing his son tightening like a vice around his heart.

As they follow her, a woman nearby—Chris’s classmate’s mother, with worry etched into her face—approaches, wringing her hands as she watches Eddie and Buck approach. She looks overwhelmed, eyes darting toward the direction of Chris’s room, then back at Eddie.

“Eddie?” she asks, her voice thick with guilt and concern. “I’m so ashamed for this. Another car, it… the brakes gave out. It hit right where Christopher was. I…” Her voice wavers. “I’m so, so sorry. He was just sitting there… I couldn’t do anything.”

Eddie feels her words sink in, but something inside him steadies, anchoring him. He shakes his head, his voice soft but reassuring. “Thank you for being with him,” he says, the words holding a gratitude she may never understand. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you stayed.”

The mother nods, visibly relieved by his kindness, and Buck guides Eddie forward, giving the woman a gentle nod before they continue down the hallway.

Finally, they reach Chris’s room, and it’s as if the fog lifts. There he is, lying small and fragile in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines, his face pale but unmistakably there . Eddie feels his chest loosen for the first time since he picked up the phone. He steps forward, barely feeling his legs beneath him, and sinks into the chair beside his son, his hand wrapping around Chris’s small, warm fingers.

He barely registers Buck beside him, standing protectively nearby, as he looks down at Chris, feeling the enormity of his love and fear, of the almost-loss that he’s come so close to.

A gentle squeeze, and Chris’s eyes flutter open, meeting Eddie’s with a faint smile that holds every ounce of trust and familiarity Eddie clings to like a lifeline.

“Hey, bud,” Eddie manages, voice barely more than a whisper, rough with the ache of a thousand fears that have finally begun to fade. Chris blinks, giving him a tired but reassuring smile, his gaze drifting to Buck, who stands quietly by the door, watching over them both.

As Eddie holds his son’s hand, feeling the steady warmth, a quiet peace settles over him, one that promises that, for this moment, they’re still together.

Buck is still standing by the door, holding himself there like an anchor, when the doctor finally steps in, a tablet in hand, face creased with the marks of a long day. He doesn’t hesitate, making eye contact with Buck as he starts speaking. “Mr. Diaz, I’m Dr. Lyman. Your son came in with significant blood loss, which is why we proceeded with the transfusion. He’s stabilized now, and we’ll be doing one final exam shortly, but it looks like he should be good to go home once that clears.”

Buck’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to correct the doctor immediately. “Actually—uh—I’m not Chris’s dad. Eddie is,” he says, gesturing quickly towards Eddie by the bedside. The doctor does a small double take, blinking between them.

“Oh, apologies. It’s just that you two… look quite similar. Sorry about the mix-up,” he says, directing his attention fully to Eddie, who hasn’t moved from Chris’s side. Eddie manages a tense nod, too focused on Chris’s condition to care much about the misunderstanding, though he throws Buck a grateful look as Buck steps back to the door.

“Now,” Dr. Lyman continues, flipping through his tablet. “Your son sustained a deep laceration on his leg—a pretty nasty cut that needed several stitches. When he was moved out of the vehicle, a piece of glass dislodged, causing significant bleeding. That’s when we proceeded with the transfusion to stabilize him. Luckily, it went smoothly.”

Buck hovers at the door, but as the doctor turns to Eddie and his voice takes on a formal tone, Buck understands. This conversation, it seems, is only for family. He hesitates, catching Eddie’s eye, and Eddie gives him a subtle nod, urging him to join the others in the waiting room. Though part of him wants to argue—wants to declare that Buck is family, especially in this moment—he needs to focus on Chris’s health more than anything.

Buck gives Eddie a small, reassuring nod before leaving the room, quietly making his way back to the station team, who all look up expectantly as he enters the waiting area.

Meanwhile, Dr. Lyman turns back to Eddie, detailing more of the care process. “We’ll need your ID to complete some paperwork for the discharge, Mr. Diaz,” he adds. Eddie reaches for his wallet, handing over his driver’s license without taking his eyes off Chris, who looks at him, smiling sleepily.

The doctor flips through some screens on the tablet, pulling up forms and blood records. “Now, during the transfusion, we ran a routine blood type verification,” he says, inputting information as he talks, “and noted that Christopher’s blood type is A-positive.” He says it offhandedly, barely looking up from his screen, but Eddie’s eyes flick toward him, the words sinking in slowly.

A-positive. 

Something in his mind stirs, memories unfurling, connections aligning. Eddie’s blood type is B-negative; Shannon’s was, too—he remembers distinctly. They’d talked about it once, casually, but it was something that came up again on the way to the hospital the day of her accident. 

Eddie remembers it clearly from a stray moment during the transport, when he’d had the surreal, useless thought that he could donate blood to her if she needed it, that made him feel like he still had something to give, that gave him the hope he still could do something .

But two B-negatives cannot make an A-positive. Two negatives can’t make a positive. And two Bs cannot produce an A.

The room feels like it’s tilting. Eddie stares at the doctor, the realization clawing its way through the fog of relief, settling cold and heavy in his chest. It doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t make sense—but there it is, clinical and clear, a fact staring back at him in the form of a blood type on a digital screen.

Eddie drives home in a daze, the city blurring into a muddled backdrop of headlights and muted colors, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than he realizes. Chris is in the backseat, dozing off curled in himself to fit from one side to the other, his small form barely rising and falling with each breath, his face peaceful. Eddie glances back at him, feeling a surge of relief. The terror of losing him has dissipated, but it’s been replaced by something else—something colder, darker, that’s sinking deeper into his chest with each passing second.

Chris’s blood type is A-positive. The doctor’s words keep looping in his head, over and over, louder than the hum of the car engine, louder than his own breathing. A-positive. Eddie feels his heart clench. He knows blood types. He learned about them in combat training, memorized which types worked for emergency transfusions in the field. And that’s when he’d found out that two B-negatives… could never make an A-positive.

It’s not something that’s come up often. Why would it? Chris’s blood type was never a pressing detail in their lives, not until tonight. For surgeries it was always Shannon handling the logistics. She’d been the one to deal with the doctors during those times, the one on hand whenever medical history was needed. And she wouldn’t have had to know about the genetic side of it; it was such an obscure detail. But now, the pieces are fitting together too clearly, too painfully, for Eddie to ignore.

A wave of dizziness overtakes him as he pulls into the driveway, the headlights casting long, distorted shadows across the garage door. Bobby had sent him home early after they’d returned to the station, the relief of having Chris discharged overtaken by Eddie’s unsteady silence. Buck had squeezed his shoulder, promising to check in as soon as his own shift was over in four hours, an anchor in the middle of Eddie’s spiraling thoughts.

He shifts into park, cutting the engine. In the stillness, he can feel his heart pounding, as if it’s trying to drown out the thoughts clawing at his mind. He looks back at Chris, who’s still asleep, oblivious to the silent storm that’s taken over his father. Eddie takes a slow, shaky breath, pushing down the twisting, panicked questions that won’t stop clawing their way up.

When he carries Chris inside, the weight of his son’s small body grounds him, a reminder of the one thing he’s certain of: Chris is his . Biology, blood types—none of it changes the fact that he’s spent nearly every day of the last decade and a half loving this kid, caring for him, learning every laugh, every frown, every quiet moment they’ve shared. But the question, unanswered and raw, hangs heavy in his mind, threatening to unravel the life he’s built around Chris.

He tucks Chris into bed, brushing the hair from his son’s forehead as he watches him settle into the covers, his breaths even and soft, the faintest smile tugging at his lips in his sleep. And Eddie stands there, frozen, watching him, grappling with a truth he hadn’t known he’d been skirting all this time.

This is my son, he thinks, the words firm and final. No matter what, that fact won’t change, not in his heart, not in the life he’s built with him. But the cracks are there, the unanswered questions pressing against his ribs, no less painful just because they’re buried now. Whoever his father was, he thinks, his hands curling tightly around the edge of Chris’s blanket, it doesn’t change that he’s my son. It never will.

He stands there for what feels like hours, until Chris is fully asleep, until the house is still and quiet. And as he finally drags himself out of the room, leaving the door ajar, Eddie knows that the rest of his life may be marked by this uncertainty. But he’ll bear it. For Chris, he’ll face the unknown—and somehow, he’ll find a way through.

Eddie’s heart clenches with a mixture of love and fear, the kind that’s gnawed at him since that awful call from the hospital. He knows, as he steps out and closes the door behind him, that this question—this doubt—won’t just disappear. It’s stuck, a thorn in his mind that’s only grown sharper since he heard the doctor say those impossible words.

In the darkened hallway, he pauses, leaning his back against the wall and pressing a hand over his mouth. Whoever his father was, he tells himself again, trying to cling to the thought, it doesn’t matter. This is my son. But even as he thinks it, his mind churns, a relentless cycle of memories and questions. By the time he’s in the living room, he feels hollow, restless, that same question lodged in his heart, refusing to let him go.

Without quite realizing it, he sinks onto the couch, pulls his phone from his pocket, and opens Facebook. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for, but it feels like he’s chasing something—an answer, a clue, some tangible connection to the life he thought he understood. He types Shannon’s name into the search bar, her profile appearing instantly, as if it’s been waiting there all along.

The scrolling begins slowly, almost tentative, but soon, he’s swiping through photos with an intensity he can’t control, each one peeling back the layers of a life he thought he knew. 

Eddie barely even notices the ticking of the clock as he sifts through the years, his fingers hovering over Shannon’s old Facebook profile, scrolling endlessly through photos, posts, tags. Every photo feels like a snapshot of some other life—a world of laughter, youth, moments shared that were as easy as breathing back then. They hadn’t known it, of course, how precious it all was, how sharply the memories would sting in the aftermath of everything.

It starts simply, as if he’s retracing old paths, looking through the years they’d known each other. Photos of study groups, parties, even those lazy afternoons spent doing nothing in particular, just reveling in each other’s company. There’s Shannon’s familiar smile, framed by a carousel of faces he mostly recognizes. But the more he scrolls, the more detached he feels, his mind snagging on the faces he doesn’t recognize—strangers who move in and out of her life like passing shadows. And somewhere, beneath the surface, Eddie knows he’s searching. For what, he’s not sure. The truth? Or maybe just a face, a clue, something that would put his mind at ease—or, at least, explain what his heart refuses to accept.

Who are you? he thinks with every unfamiliar face, watching each smile, every laugh caught mid-moment. Were you there, even for a second? Do you even know he exists? His mind spins, imagining strangers who might share a faint resemblance to Chris—the same spark in his eyes, maybe the same way his mouth quirks when he’s deep in thought.

But then there’s a thought that catches Eddie off-guard, making his heart clench. It’s their loss, he thinks, his throat tightening. Whoever this person might be, they’ll never know the boy Chris has become, the boy Eddie has raised. They’ll never know how fiercely Chris loves, how resilient he is, how he faces every challenge life throws at him with a determination that puts even grown men to shame. They’ll never know that his laugh is like sunshine, that his quiet bravery could bring anyone to tears.

Still, he can’t shake the haunting question in his head. The unknown feels like it’s looming over him, pulling him under in a haze of memories. Photos from the days they were just teenagers flood his screen, images of him and Shannon goofing around, all gangly limbs and oversized grins. They’d been inseparable back then, a friendship that felt solid, unbreakable. And yet… here he is, left with fragments of a life they’d built together and questions that no one will ever answer.

By the time his fingers finally still, he’s exhausted and he is sure he’s losing his mind.

The hours have blended together by the time Eddie finds himself staring at a photo that feels like it shouldn’t be there. 

Eddie stares at his phone, the photo taunting him, Shannon caught in the frame, her smile barely visible as she talks to some guy in the background. It’s almost insignificant; she isn’t even the focus of the picture, but his eyes linger on the man standing next to her, whose face is slightly obscured. Yet there’s something maddeningly familiar about him. He squints, zooming in, and feels his stomach flip. That birthmark. It’s the exact same one…

He swallows hard, running his thumb over the screen as if touching the image might clarify it. His brain spins in disbelief. 

It's blurry, and could totally be a bad camera thing, but it just takes him off guard. The picture was posted a few days after it was taken, proven by the frame digital cameras offered of having the date and time it was taken (January 16th, 2011— The day before he and Shannon became a thing, nonetheless).

The picture’s dated the day before he and Shannon got together , and that guy? He could swear it looks like Buck. But Buck would’ve been, what, twenty? And in a different state? He knows this. It’s absurd. But here he is, staring at the photo and whispering to himself, "Buck?"

A soft, amused voice answers back. "Yeah?"

Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin, jerking around to find Buck standing just inside the door, eyebrows raised in concern. He hadn’t even heard him come in. Eddie lets out a shaky breath, trying to shake off the eerie feeling crawling up his spine.

But as his eyes meet his, all he can think is, “You two… look quite similar.”  

The doctor’s words circle in his mind, echoing in time with his pulse. And as much as he tries to look away, his gaze keeps drifting back to Buck’s face, piecing together details he’s always seen but now can’t unsee. The same deep blue eyes. The same smile.

“Eddie,” Buck’s voice cuts through his daze, laced with concern. “What’s going on? Is this about Chris? Is he okay?” Buck’s brow furrows, his eyes flashing with the same protectiveness Eddie feels.

Realizing how wild he must look, Eddie takes a shaky breath, forcing himself to straighten up. “No, no… Chris is fine,” he says, though his voice sounds far from convincing. “I’m just… I’m overthinking stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck, his fingers digging in like he can push away the feeling pressing against his mind. He tries to focus on Buck, on the reassuring presence he’s been for so long, but every time he blinks, that birthmark flashes in his mind. The photo. A version of Buck with Shannon.

Buck watches him closely, not buying it, skeptical but patient, in that way he does where he always knows there’s more going on but never pushes.

Eddie can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes narrow just slightly, reading him in that uncanny way he always does. 

“Overthinking what?” Buck asks quietly, stepping a little closer, his usual lightheartedness muted. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Eddie hesitates, his hands tightening around his phone.

His head is still spinning, that photo mocking him, as if there’s some answer hidden within it. But then, his mouth moves almost on its own, the words spilling out like a confession. 

“Chris has A+ blood.” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, like he’s admitting to something far deeper than a medical fact.

Buck’s face brightens, his usual, easy grin lighting up as he exclaims, “Hey, just like me!”

Eddie’s heart stops. Just like Buck. The words echo through his mind, twisting and turning, his head swimming as he tries to ground himself. A+ isn’t exactly rare, he tells himself, grasping for logic. Around 34% of people in the USA have it, after all. It could mean nothing.

But his mind won’t settle. He can’t shake the surge of panic. He lets out a shaky laugh, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah,” he mutters, trying to sound amused, but his heart’s racing, and he knows Buck can tell something’s still off.

In an attempt to ground himself, he grabs his phone again, desperate for a distraction. But the moment he unlocks it, he’s staring at that photo again—the one of Shannon, the guy who looks so much like Buck , that familiar birthmark standing out like a slap in the face.

After a few minutes of silence, Eddie looking at his phone and not paying attention to anything else, Buck's brain catches up, forgetting about the happiness of having something else in common with his best friend's kid. 

“Wait…” Buck’s voice is barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever Eddie has left. “Is that… is that what you’re overthinking?” Buck asks, his voice shaky and tentative. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Eddie feels the lump in his throat tighten, pressing down so hard it’s difficult to breathe, let alone speak. Honestly, Eddie really doesn't want to answer.

But this is Buck—the person who’s always there, who somehow manages to show up whenever Eddie feels like he’s drowning in his own life. Buck, the one Eddie knows would stay right here beside him no matter how dark things get. So he swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady, but it comes out broken anyway. 

So he replies "Shannon and I are both B negative" and his voice breaks with the admission, a lump forming in his throat as if vocalizing that statement made it more real. 

For a second, Buck just stares, clearly grasping at straws, searching for anything to refute this impossible, terrible truth. But he knows, just as Eddie does, that there’s no way around it. 

“But—how is that even possible?” he stammers, even as the knowledge settles on him like lead.

“It’s not.” Eddie’s voice is barely a whisper, his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. It’s black, again, since he hadn't interacted with it in 5 minutes, but he can't look at Buck in the eyes and he doesn't want to see the picture again anyway.

He knows it sounds dramatic, but it feels like if he doesn’t look up, maybe none of this will be real. Maybe it will just go away.

Buck watches him, desperate for some hint that Eddie’s got this wrong. But Eddie’s words echo in his head like a death knell. It’s not. He knows. Buck knows it too, deep down, but his mind races, hoping, searching for any plausible mistake or explanation to cling to.

Buck clears his throat. “What… what do you mean?” His voice is fragile, as though he already knows the answer but needs Eddie to confirm it, to anchor this awful thought to reality.

Because does he know exactly what it means. He knows it because he found fascinating how blood types worked, the heredity and compatibility of it all. 

Buck also knows that Eddie knows that he knows, but he wants clarification anyway because there's no way it means what he thinks it means. 

Eddie finally looks up, his eyes glassy, pain written in every line of his face as he whispers, “It means I’m probably not Chris’s biological dad.”

He doesn’t try to stop the tears this time. They fall silently, gathering and spilling over before he even realizes he’s crying. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what Buck could say, or if there’s anything either of them could do to make this hurt any less. Because, in this single, crushing realization, Eddie’s world has been knocked off its axis, upending everything he thought he knew about his life, his son, his family.

Buck’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles for words, but nothing feels right. Instead, he moves closer, his hand hovering by Eddie’s shoulder before finally landing there, a warm, steadying weight. Eddie sinks under the gesture, almost falling forward, barely breathing as he lets himself absorb the reality of it all.

The words hang in the air like a dark, heavy fog, sinking into every corner of the room. Eddie’s voice is hoarse, the words ripped from somewhere deep and painful, “It means I’m probably not Chris’s biological dad.” He barely registers the fact that he’s said it out loud, that he’s finally let the dam break, let the terrifying thought loose into the world.

The silence that follows is thick, oppressive. Buck stares at him, eyes wide, face contorting with the shock of the realization, his lips parting slightly, but no words come out. Eddie can't bring himself to look at him for long, not when he’s still clutching his phone like it might hold the answers, not when everything feels so off-balance and the ground beneath him might as well be crumbling.

A part of him wants to laugh, wants to shake this absurd situation off as if it’s nothing more than a bad dream. It’s impossible, he wants to say. It doesn’t matter. But the words won’t come because now, with Buck looking at him, he can’t lie to himself anymore. Every instinct in him screams against it, but logic is relentless, unforgiving, drowning out every protest in his head.

Buck swallows hard, still trying to process. It means I’m probably not Chris’s biological dad. The air feels thick, stifling, and he finds himself at a loss for anything comforting to say. He knows exactly what Eddie’s words mean, knows all too well about blood type inheritance—two B negatives couldn’t have an A positive child. It was one of those simple, irrefutable facts of biology, the kind you couldn’t reason away.

“Eddie…” Buck’s voice comes out softer than he intended, but it doesn’t matter; Eddie’s still looking at his phone, his thumb brushing against the edge of the screen as if he’s trapped in a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

Eddie closes his eyes, jaw clenching as he tries to hold himself together, but when he opens them again, the tears are right there, blurring his vision. "I spent my whole life wanting to be a dad, Buck. And then… Chris came along, and I had this purpose, this family. I thought I’d finally gotten it right. But now…” He shakes his head, his voice cracking again as he forces out, “Now I’m looking at that picture, and I can’t shake it, Buck. I know what it means.”

Buck’s heart breaks a little more with every word, and all he wants to do is reach out, steady him, stop him from spiraling further. But Eddie is locked in, unable to pull himself from the weight of his own thoughts.

The room is silent except for Eddie’s shaky breathing. His thumb hovers over the phone screen, as though he might summon the picture back to life, bring that stranger into sharper focus. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to see that familiar-looking stranger next to Shannon. Doesn’t want to think about how many other parts of Chris he might not even recognize, things that might come from a man he’s never even met. “I don’t even know who this person could be. I don’t even know if she knew, or if she… if she hid it because she knew how much it’d kill me to find out.”

Buck takes a careful step closer, his voice soft but steady. “Eddie, Chris is your son. You’ve been there for him through everything you could, the way he lights up when you walk into a room. None of that’s changed.”

Eddie’s hands finally let go of his phone, and he looks up at Buck, his eyes raw and full of pain. “But it has changed. I mean, how can I look at him the same way? Every time he smiles or laughs or does something, I’m just gonna be reminded that he might not even be… mine. That I might have been living some lie this whole time.”

Buck feels his heart breaking, but he steels himself, stepping closer to Eddie until there’s only a small space between them. “Chris is yours, Eddie. He’s yours in every way that matters, and this doesn’t take that away from you. You’ve given him a life, stability, love—he’s got a father, and it’s you. ”

Eddie’s breathing hitches as he hears Buck’s words, a fresh wave of emotion hitting him. He looks at Buck, and for a moment, the hopelessness eases just enough for him to reach out and pull Buck into a tight, desperate hug. 

Buck doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around him, holding him close as Eddie’s whole frame shakes with the weight of a truth he never asked for, and maybe, still, doesn’t want to believe. 

Eddie’s face is buried in Buck’s shoulder, his hands fisted tightly in Buck’s shirt, and there’s no stopping the tears now, raw and unchecked. Buck tightens his hold, steadying him, letting him break without a single word, without trying to fix or push, just there.

Finally, Eddie manages to find his voice, muffled and shaky against Buck’s shoulder. “Should we… should I… do a DNA test?” The words feel like a betrayal leaving his lips, but he can’t ignore them either. He pulls back enough to look at Buck, face lined with worry, guilt, and something Buck can only describe as heartbreak. “Just to know for sure. Prove what’s obvious.”

Buck meets his gaze, his own expression steady but soft, and after a moment, he asks simply, “Do you want to tell Chris?”

The question lands heavily between them, and Eddie’s expression falters as he really considers it. Tell Chris. Tell Chris that maybe the man who raised him isn’t his biological father, that the man who’s been there through everything—every scraped knee, every bad day, every small victory—isn’t who he thought. Eddie’s face falls, and his eyes drop to the floor.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Eddie whispers. “How could I look him in the eye and tell him that? He’s got enough going on, Buck—he’s dealt with so much already. I don’t know if he’d even understand what this all means. And if he did… would he feel like something was missing? Like he… needed to go looking for someone else?” His voice cracks again, the idea of Chris wanting— needing —another father ripping a fresh tear in the wound.

Buck’s arms remain steady around Eddie, but his eyes take on a faraway look as he speaks, soft but firm, as if he’s already thought through all the words he’s about to say. "I just think Chris deserves to know.”

Eddie looks startled, almost pained by the idea. “Buck, he’s been through enough. I can’t… I don’t want to add this to his plate.”

Buck’s expression turns pained, and he loosens his grip, keeping one hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he speaks. “I get it. I do. But I grew up… with so many secrets around me, things no one wanted to talk about, things I wasn’t allowed to understand. I spent so much time trying to piece it together on my own, to understand what I did wrong… why I was different. And Chris…” Buck’s voice softens, “Chris deserves better. He deserves the truth from you —not some secret that might come up later on when no one can control it. Secrets like this…” Buck pauses, searching for the right words, “They don’t just go away. They turn into cracks. And sometimes they… break everything.”

Eddie’s face pales as he listens, and he looks down, fingers tightening around his phone. “But Buck,” he begins, his voice wavering, “I don’t want him to think… to think he’s anything less to me because of this. I don’t even care what the blood type says—I’m his dad. No test can change that.”

Buck nods, understanding etched in his gaze. “And Chris knows that, Eddie. This wouldn’t be about changing his life—he’s got you, his dad, the one who’s been there every day. But knowing the truth… it means he’ll never have to doubt it later. He’ll never have to feel like something was kept from him, you know?” He pauses, and his voice drops, tinged with the hurt of his own past. “I know it’s not the same as what happened with my brother, but I think… knowing everything from the start could make him feel safer. He wouldn’t have to wonder why he was kept in the dark, or what it means.”

Eddie takes in Buck’s words, and for a moment, he just stares at the floor, the familiar feeling of protectiveness warring with the fears he’s kept close to his chest. "I don’t want him to think he’s different, like I’d treat him any differently… or that he’d be anyone else’s.”

Buck gives him a small, encouraging smile. “And he won’t. He already knows who you are to him, Eddie. But what if you tell him? And he sees that he can trust you with anything—even with something as big as this. That his dad will always be honest with him.”

Eddie swallows hard, the weight of Buck’s words settling. He runs a hand through his hair, the lump in his throat pressing down. “It’s terrifying,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m ready to let him know, even if I know you’re right.”

Buck squeezes his shoulder gently, a reassuring pressure. “You’re already more ready than you think. And you’ve got me, you know, whenever you need it. You’re not doing this alone.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, some of the tension releasing from his frame as he looks at Buck with gratitude, and maybe, just a bit of acceptance. “Thank you, Buck. For reminding me of who I am to him. I… I’ll figure this out. For him.”

Buck nods, his support unwavering. “And I’ll be here. For both of you.”

Eddie’s still wrapped in Buck’s arms, and he’s so close, steady in a way Eddie’s always relied on but never quite taken in so fully. For a moment, he’s ready to let himself just sit there, taking comfort in the solid weight of his best friend’s support. But the thought nags at him, relentless— that photo . The tiny, absurd possibility buzzing in his brain that the guy in it could be… could actually be Buck. He should probably laugh it off now, brush it under the rug and move forward. It’s stupid, after all, ridiculous really.

So Eddie lets Buck go, watches him move around the room, offering reassurances, promising he’ll be right back with a glass of water. As Buck heads toward Chris’s room to peek in on him, Eddie pulls out his phone, eyes drifting back to that photo as his thumb unlocks the screen, landing squarely on Shannon and that guy. He stares, feeling a stubborn sort of curiosity kick in again. He’s exhausted, his brain a swirl of worry and this strange nagging urge that won’t settle. And honestly… screw it . A faint, dry laugh escapes him. Maybe he just needs a good laugh about it, something absurd to end the night.

So, when Buck walks back in, Eddie sets down the empty glass Buck had brought and waves him over, an awkward grin plastered on his face. “Okay, don’t laugh at me, alright?” he says, already feeling embarrassed as he hands over his phone. “I was digging through Shannon’s old Facebook photos—hours of it, really—and, well… I found this. ”

Buck gives him a quizzical look but takes the phone. He glances at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the grainy image. There’s Shannon, casually in the background, talking to some guy… some guy who looks suspiciously like Buck.

Eddie can’t help himself—he laughs, the absurdity of the whole thing spilling out as he points at the screen. “You see it, right? Some kind of doppelganger or whatever. I mean, what are the odds?”

But Buck’s not laughing. His face goes still, expression shifting from confusion to something unreadable, his complexion turning pale as he stares at the screen. Eddie’s laughter dies down as he watches Buck, his stomach sinking. "Buck…?"

Buck’s fingers tighten on the phone, and his mouth opens slightly, as if he’s about to say something but then thinks better of it. He finally looks up at Eddie, eyes wide. “Eddie… I think that’s actually… me.”

“What?” Eddie asks, more like an exhale than an actual word, the realization hitting him hard, a knot tightening in his gut. “You’re joking, right? I mean, when have you ever been to El Paso, of all places?” He looks at Buck, incredulous, hoping for some rational explanation to cut through the absurdity of it all.

Buck’s face pales further as he stammers out a response. “I… couldn’t tell you exactly when, but… around that time, yeah, I did pass through some cities and towns in Texas. And—wait, that shirt!” He points at the guy in the photo, his voice an anxious ramble. “I know that shirt! I wore it as pajamas, like, last night. It’s got a hole now, and I was about to throw it away, but I swear that’s it.”

“So… it might actually be you?” Eddie asks, staring between the picture and Buck, his mind struggling to keep up.

Buck looks increasingly distressed, the weight of the possibility settling over him. “Eddie, I—I don’t remember any of this, I swear. If I did, I would have said something ages ago. But… party, random town, girl I barely know—me back then? That’s, like, a recipe for…” His voice trails off as Eddie’s expression shifts, and realization dawns in Buck’s eyes.

Eddie hadn’t even considered that. He’d just found it shocking enough that Buck, his best friend, might have actually met Shannon way before he met him. The whole “finding Chris’s biological father” thing had slipped his mind. And now, Buck’s implication—that he might’ve actually slept with her—hits Eddie like a sucker punch.

“You think you might have… slept with her?” Eddie asks, barely able to get the words out. His heart stumbles, each beat painfully loud in his chest.

Buck’s eyes are wide, and he looks as if he might break. “Eddie, I—I don’t know. I never would’ve… if I had known she was your wife— of girlfriend— or whatever, I would never have, and I don’t even remember… I’m so, so sorry. I never would’ve meant to—”

He doesn’t get to finish because Eddie cuts him off, his voice tight, jaw clenched as he mutters, “She was none of those things back then.”

“What?”

“The date. It’s the day before we got together.” Eddie lets out a harsh breath, still reeling. “She wasn’t my wife or my girlfriend yet. That didn’t happen until the next day.”

Buck blinks, the shock still written across his face. “Oh… oh, Eddie, I’m so sorry,” he says, a new wave of guilt washing over him. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He is on the other end of the room in seconds, pacing, rubbing his hands together, glancing down at them as he speaks, still visibly shaken. 

“I mean, I was always careful. I didn’t… I wasn’t reckless in that . But—god, Eddie, knowing my luck, sometimes I was amazed I never got a call from some random woman saying, ‘Hey, you’ve got a kid.’ I’d think about it sometimes, that it was almost weird that it hadn’t happened.” He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze finally meeting Eddie’s, his eyes earnest and pained. “I was grateful, you know, that it didn’t. And now… I can’t believe this might have actually happened, and I just… never knew?”

Eddie nods slowly, still absorbing everything. He realizes, surprisingly, that he doesn’t feel any anger, just a strange, unsettling calm. Buck as Chris’s biological father? Of all the possible outcomes, it’s almost… relieving. He’s so familiar, so much a part of their lives already. “You know,” Eddie says, voice softening, “if it’s true… I think, somehow, this would be the easiest thing for me to handle. Chris adores you. Hell, you’re practically his favorite person on the planet.”

Buck’s brow furrows in uncertainty, but he’s listening, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he waits for the words to come.

“Really, Buck,” Eddie continues, his voice gaining strength, “you already show up for Chris every day, like it’s second nature. It’s not like he’d be losing anything by knowing this. And if this is true, you’d just… be even more of what you already are to him.”

Buck lets out a breath, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude flooding his face. “You’re really okay with this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “With me… potentially being his dad?”

Eddie smiles, small but genuine. “Look, I’ve spent all day feeling like my whole world was turning upside down. And yet, right here? This, right now?” He chuckles softly, glancing toward Chris’s room. “This feels steady. Somehow, knowing it’s you just… makes sense.”

Eddie gives Buck a steady look, watching the internal battle play out across his friend’s face. He clears his throat. 

“So… we should go ahead with that DNA test. Just to be sure.”

Buck’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head almost instinctively. “No. Eddie, no way. I’m not—I’d never take Chris from you, okay? That’s your son. He’s yours, and I wouldn’t ever—” He’s horrified by the thought, his voice dropping. “I couldn’t… I wouldn’t claim him as mine. You’re his dad. It feels insane to even think it might be otherwise.”

Eddie nods, his expression gentle. “I know, Buck. I know that. But we’re not talking about taking anything away. If we do this, it’s not going to change the way Chris sees you or the way he sees me. And legally… there’s nothing that will change just because we find out the truth. No court’s going to interfere if we don’t involve them.” 

Buck stares at him, eyes full of hesitation. "I don’t know if… if I even want to know," he says, voice catching. "I mean, I would never try to take him away. Ever. And if we did a DNA test, and it came back that I’m… that I’m related, I just—I can’t help but think about what it would mean. Like, what if it somehow changes things? What if it complicates things legally down the road?"

Eddie watches him carefully, the initial shock in his own heart settling into a quiet certainty. “Buck,” he says softly, “without a court order or any legal action, a DNA test won’t affect my rights as his father. It’s just information. You don’t have to worry about custody issues. You think I’d drag you into some courtroom? Or that you’d do that to me?”

Buck frowns, clearly struggling with this. "No, but… it’s just… What if knowing changes things for us? For Chris? What if it feels like I’m stepping into a role that’s not mine?"

“You’re not stepping into any role. You’re already a huge part of his life.” Eddie holds his gaze, steady and calm. “This is about knowing the truth. That’s all. And I know you—you’re always saying you believe people deserve to know the truth, especially the ones closest to you. So how about this: we get the DNA test. Not to claim anything or take anything away but… just to know.”

Buck takes a shaky breath, his shoulders still tense. “It’s just—I mean, what if they find out? What if someone out there… I don’t know, takes him from you?”

“ Someone ?” Eddie chuckles gently, reaching out to clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “No one’s taking Chris, Buck. He’s my kid, and that’s not changing—test or no test. You just told me yourself, we all deserve the truth, Buck. It’s not going to change how we feel, but it might give us all some clarity.”

Buck looks at Eddie, finally easing up, the initial fear giving way to the understanding that this is their decision to make. He nods, feeling that mix of relief and apprehension settle. “Okay,” he whispers, “for Chris. We’ll find out.”

Eddie takes a steadying breath, then glances at Buck with a soft smile. “Come here,” he says, opening his arms.

Buck laughs, a little sheepishly, but doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward and wrapping Eddie in a tight, reassuring hug. Eddie claps him on the back, holding on a second longer than usual, both of them finding a strange sort of peace in the weight of the moment. When they pull back, Eddie’s expression softens even further.

“You know what we need?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” Buck asks, already sensing where this is going.

“Comfort food,” Eddie declares. “We deserve it after all this.”

Buck’s eyes light up, and he nods. “Couldn’t agree more. Let’s get something from our favorite place, yeah?”

“Perfect,” Eddie says, reaching for his phone to place the order. “I’ll order, and you can wake up Chris. Let’s make sure he gets something in his stomach before we give him that medicine.”

Buck moves down the hall to Chris’s room, his heart pounding in a way that feels both exhilarating and grounding. It’s strange—nothing’s changed, not really—but it feels like the whole world shifted an inch to the left, leaving everything the same yet utterly different. He feels an almost electric energy in his limbs, a blend of joy and awe making his body hum.

He’s done this before—woken Chris up, sat by his side to check on him after a hard day—but this time, it’s as though the world has tilted, like everyone else is living in a place where everything is just like the day before when Buck feels like his reality is completely off-center. 

It’s the same world, the same kid, but somehow, it’s also different, something more precious. There’s a strange pride pulsing through him, a quiet thrill settling under his skin. None of it shows on his face, but it’s humming through him, like his body can’t contain it.

Chris stirs as Buck quietly enters, his eyes blinking open, drowsy but sweetly aware. Buck leans over, keeping his voice low and soft. “Hey, buddy,” he says, his tone warmer than he’s ever heard it. “Time to get up, alright? Food’s ready, and we need to check on that leg.”

Chris nods, starting to push himself up with a faint grimace, and Buck reaches over instinctively, helping him ease upright. “How’s it feel?” Buck asks gently, watching his face.

“It’s… not too bad,” Chris replies, his voice a little groggy but with that trademark resilience that always blows Buck away. Buck grins, ruffling Chris’s hair.

“Good to hear. Let’s just take a look, though, alright?”

He rolls up Chris’s pant leg to inspect the stitches. The sight brings a pang of protectiveness, and Buck forces himself to stay calm. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks as it should, he hands Chris his medicine. Chris swallows it, giving a small shudder, and Buck chuckles, patting his shoulder.

“Come on,” he says, keeping his voice as casual as he can. “Eddie’s waiting for us.”

They walk together to the kitchen, where Eddie’s already set out dinner. The moment Buck joins them at the table, any tension slips away. He watches Chris dig in, the way Eddie makes sure he’s comfortable and settled, and for once, Buck lets himself be still, surrounded by the feeling of family—real, unwavering, and entirely his own. Nothing has really changed, but everything has, and in this moment, it feels like that’s exactly how it was meant to be.

After dinner, Eddie clears his throat, gathering his thoughts as he glances at Chris, who’s still quietly picking at his food. The kid has been through so much today, more than any kid should, but he’s holding steady—remarkably so, Eddie thinks. Eddie leans forward, making sure he has Chris’s full attention, and asks, “Hey, you doing alright? Are you too tired, or do you think you’re up for a little talk?”

Chris looks up, clearly still a bit worn out but nods, his maturity showing in the way he considers Eddie’s question. “I’m good, Dad. What’s up?”

Eddie takes a breath, trying to decide where to start. He wants to check in, maybe suggest Chris take tomorrow off from school, just so he can rest, remind him that talking to a therapist or even just him or Buck is always an option—whatever he needs. And then, finally, mention today’s revelation about the blood types, to gently see if Chris would even want to consider a paternity test and how he feels about it all.

Eddie’s throat tightens as he considers how best to broach that conversation, the words balancing in his mind but still feeling impossibly heavy.

But before he can get a single word out, Buck places a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. It’s like Buck can feel Eddie’s hesitation, knows exactly what’s happening under the surface, and the small gesture anchors him. Eddie lets out a breath, finding a bit more calm, when Chris’s voice suddenly cuts through his thoughts, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you guys gonna tell me you’re dating or something?” Chris’s voice is so straightforward, almost too casual, that Eddie’s brain stops for a moment, the words landing like a rock dropped in a still pond, sending ripples in every direction.

The question hits Eddie like a one-two punch. Dating? He and Buck? He’s not gay—that much he knows. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay; it’s just never something he’s thought about. Or wanted to. Or… Eddie’s mind spins. He’s just not—no. But denial or not, he’s also suddenly aware of Buck’s hand on his shoulder, and for the first time, Eddie’s struck by the thought that if he ever met a woman like Buck, someone he could trust with everything, with his whole life ? He’d probably be married right now. The realization almost takes him off-guard, leaves him staring at Chris with a mix of confusion and wonder. Maybe he should really put a bit more thought into all of this, to…sort it out.

Beside him, Buck seems as caught off guard as Eddie, his mouth dropping open before he lets out a laugh, his hand hovering uncertainly as he quickly pulls back. “Wait—what?” Buck grins, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Us? Dating? ”

Eddie chuckles, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “No, mijo,” he says, finding his words again and trying to ignore the odd swirl of emotions that question brought up. “We’re not… But, uh, thanks for having my back?”

Chris just shrugs, unfazed, a playful smile stretching across his face. “Well, you two spend, like, all your time together. I dunno. It just makes sense.”

Eddie feels something shift in his chest, like the faintest brush of something he’s not ready to define. And he wonders, just for a moment, if maybe— maybe —there’s something to that. But not tonight. He has enough on his plate to work through.

So he can only stare, for now, half-laughing at Chris’s easygoing shrug, both mortified and strangely…comfortable? Chris says it with such calm acceptance, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Eddie can feel that something about today is different, that Chris’s question has lodged something in his mind he can’t ignore. But seeing Chris handle it so casually, so easily, after all the drama Ana brought, he feels a strange pride, a little sense of wonder that, for all the confusion of the day, they’re still doing something right.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” Eddie says softly, glancing back at Buck, who gives him a small, reassuring smile. “Alright,” he adds, clearing his throat. “Now, about tomorrow—how are you feeling about school?”

The next morning, Eddie finds himself up before the sun, pacing his living room. Chris had been adamant about deciding whether he’d go to school only after seeing how he felt in the morning, confidently predicting that his leg would ache more by then. Sure enough, when Chris’s alarm goes off at the usual time, Eddie hears a groggy “ow…” from Chris’s room, followed by a muffled groan. That’s enough for Eddie to decide.

The night before, they’d barely scratched the surface of what they wanted to talk about with Chris.

Chris had tried so hard last night to pretend he might still go to school—had even yawned repeatedly, insisting he wasn’t all that tired when Eddie mentioned maybe talking more in the morning. But the kid had barely been able to keep his eyes open as Buck and Eddie fussed over him, checking his stitches and rewrapping his leg for the night. They’d sent him to bed soon after, putting the conversation about his health and anything else on hold.

Buck had lingered, as if he might decide to sleep on the couch just to be there. He’d asked at least a dozen times, “Are you sure you’re okay? I can stay,” until Eddie practically had to nudge him out the door. “Buck, go home. Chris is fine, I’m fine. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Buck had finally relented but left only after several promises to come by the next day after his shift, “Just to check on things” and “Help him with the conversation.”

He walks in to find Chris bleary-eyed and clearly in no shape to tackle a full day of school. After checking his temperature and looking over the stitches, Eddie decides to replace the bandages. He keeps his movements gentle as he peels back the old dressing, checking for any signs of infection and giving the area a light cleaning as he applies fresh bandages. Chris grimaces but sits through it, already too tired to protest.

“Sorry, mijo,” Eddie murmurs. “But it’s better to do this now, so it doesn’t hurt later.”

Once Chris is settled, looking relieved to lie back down, Eddie pulls out his phone. He opens the 118’s group chat, fingers flying across the screen in a frantic burst of texts:

Eddie

Hey guys, might need to take the day off today. Chris isn’t heading to school, and I don’t have anyone to stay with him. Not even gonna risk it with his leg like this. I’ll let you know if something changes.

He sends another message before anyone even responds, just in case:

Eddie

Sorry for the late notice—just found out.

A few responses start trickling in immediately.

Hen

All good, Eddie. Family first. Let us know if you need anything

Bobby

I will get you covered, don't worry about it. Just focus on Chris.

Take all the time you need. We’ll keep things under control here.

Buck

Hey, what if Maddie looks after him today?

Jee-Yun’s at kindergarten now, and Maddie’s on a day off. She’d probably love the distraction

Eddie stared at the group chat, a twinge of guilt tugging at him. He hadn’t planned on asking anyone for help, especially this early in the morning. The thought of inconveniencing Maddie, of all people, weighed on him. She had her own life, her own family, and he wasn’t about to add to her list of things to manage. He’d been Chris’s sole caregiver for years, had managed through scraped knees, broken bones, and sleepless nights. He was supposed to have this down to a science.

Yet, even as he sat there, fingers hovering over his phone, the reality settled in. Yesterday had shaken him up more than he wanted to admit. That split second of seeing Chris in that hospital bed, the talk with Buck, the sleepless night that followed… it left him feeling like he was teetering on the edge of his own nerves. The idea of taking a day off to stay home to ponder on things made him want to throw up. He also didn’t want to let the team down.

But even taking that into account, Eddie immediately started typing his refusal. He didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else, especially Maddie. Besides, Chris would be fine with him at home. He’d managed worse. But before Eddie even had a chance to hit send, Chimney’s follow-up message appeared, locking the plan into place.

Chimney

Already asked, and she said yes! She’ll be there in an hour

Eddie stared at the screen, taken off guard, and his fingers paused over his phone. A warmth spread through him, fighting with his guilt as he imagined Maddie waking up early to do him this favor. Did she know what time it was? Surely, Chim hadn’t woken her up for this?

He rubbed a hand over his face, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought about Maddie. It was just like her to agree without hesitation, to be there for him and Chris without him even asking. Maddie didn’t owe him anything, and yet here she was, stepping in to lend a hand.

He finally typed back.

Eddie

Thank you, guys. I really appreciate it.

As he set his phone down, he felt a mix of exhaustion and relief. This wasn’t a situation he’d ever expected to be in—asking for help, leaning on his friends like this. And yet, as much as he hated the idea of relying on others, he couldn’t deny how grateful he was for them.

Just as Eddie is checking the time on his phone, wondering how close he is to being officially late, there’s a knock at the door. He opens it to find Maddie standing there with a warm smile, carrying a bag that’s clearly from a nearby grocery store. She’s got another, smaller handbag slung over her shoulder, and Eddie can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Maddie,” he greets, genuinely grateful. “Thank you so much for coming over. You have no idea how much this helps.”

Maddie waves it off with a grin. “Don’t thank me yet! I came prepared to do all of Buck’s favorites from when he was sick as a kid,” she says, holding up the grocery bag triumphantly. “I’m pretty experienced with kids who get hurt, after all,” she says with a touch of nostalgia in her voice, though it’s tinged with something heavier.

Eddie’s face softens as he catches her meaning, a pang of empathy flashing in his eyes. They both know the reality now, the truth about what Buck had endured back then. His injuries hadn’t always come from the adventurous scrapes and tumbles Maddie used to believe; they’d often been the result of a boy craving any sort of attention from his parents.

Maddie gives a small shrug, acknowledging that unspoken heaviness. “I was there for all kinds of deep cuts and bruises, though. Patched him up every time he came home looking for me. At least,” she says with a little more brightness, “I can bring something useful from those years. Chris is in good hands.”

Eddie nods, deeply appreciative. “I know he is. And, honestly, it means a lot that he has you today.” He reaches out, squeezing her arm gently.

She squeezes his hand back and then makes a shooing motion. “Chris and I have a full day of rest, soup, and every classic Buck recovery snack you could imagine. I’ve got this.”

Eddie’s heart practically melts at her thoughtfulness. It’s already a huge comfort knowing she’s here to take care of Chris, but this? This is above and beyond. He can practically imagine the warmth and coziness she’ll bring to the house, especially with Chris having such a rough day ahead. “Really, Maddie, thank you,” he says, sincerity in every word. “I owe you for this. Chris is going to love it.”

Maddie laughs, waving him off again as she sets her bags down on the kitchen counter. “Please, Eddie, don’t make me blush,” she jokes. “This is what family’s for, right?”

Eddie nods, feeling a warmth in his chest at her words. “Absolutely,” he says, watching as she begins to unload her things—fresh herbs, vegetables, and what looks like Buck’s favorite broth mix. “Still, I’m really grateful. I’d been worrying about him being here alone.”

“Well, now you don’t have to. I’ve got everything I need to spend the day, and you’re not going to be late on my watch,” Maddie says, smiling as she looks at him firmly. She makes a little shooing motion with her hands, already settling into her role for the day. “Go on—get to work before Bobby thinks I’m holding you hostage!”

Eddie chuckles and nods, reluctantly heading toward the door. “You’re a lifesaver, Maddie. Call me if he needs anything—or if you need anything.”

She gives him a thumbs-up as he steps outside. “We’ve got it under control here. Go save the world or something!”

Eddie arrives at the firehouse with a determined expression, doing his best to keep the turmoil inside from showing. As soon as he walks in, the usual morning chatter halts, and he’s met with concerned looks from his teammates. Hen is the first to approach him, eyebrows knitted in worry.

“Hey, how’s Chris?” she asks gently, and the others—Chimney, Bobby, and even Buck hovering a few steps back—watch him closely for his answer.

Eddie puts on a reassuring smile, nodding. “He’s fine. Just a little sore and not exactly excited about being off his feet, but everything’s looking good. Maddie’s with him today.”

Everyone relaxes, but Eddie can feel the weight of their attention, especially Buck’s gaze, watching him with a little too much intensity. Eddie keeps his responses measured and steady, deflecting further questions with practiced ease. He’s not about to unload the real mess in his head—the half-formed realizations and questions about everything that happened after the accident. Right now, he’s sticking to the basics: Chris is okay, and they’re getting through it.

The debrief begins, and Eddie’s glad for the normalcy, tuning in as Bobby runs through the day’s agenda. When it ends, everyone scatters to their usual tasks, but Eddie notices Buck sidling up beside him with that familiar clipboard in hand.

Without a word, Buck falls into step with him, subtly steering Eddie toward the supply closet. Eddie knows this routine by now: inventory day. It’s technically Buck’s task, since he’s devised an elaborate system to keep everything organized—a system no one else fully understands or cares to mess with. But Eddie? He’s the only one who can put up with Buck’s focus when he has that clipboard in hand, so it’s an unspoken rule that he helps out.

As they start, Buck fiddles with the pen tucked behind his ear and finally glances at Eddie, his face filled with quiet apprehension, and Eddie has a feeling he’s not as focused on the week's order as he usually is.

“Hey,” Buck starts, voice low and careful. “I, uh—I just wanted to say thanks for letting Maddie help out with Chris today. And, um… please don’t be mad that I sent her.” He hesitates, glancing down at his clipboard, before pressing on. “I really wasn’t trying to overstep. I know things are… complicated, now, but I swear I’m not doing this just because of the whole… blood type thing. I would’ve done this for you and Chris no matter what.” He looks at Eddie, earnest and anxious. “I need you to know that.”

Eddie pauses, taking in the concern in Buck’s expression. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He lets out a quiet laugh, reaching out to clap a reassuring hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck, I didn’t think that for a second. I’m actually really grateful you thought to send Maddie; Chris and I couldn’t be in better hands.” He shakes his head, amused. “And if anything, it helped me, too. I didn’t want to be left alone with my thoughts, so this actually worked out for both of us.”

Buck’s shoulders visibly relax, but Eddie can tell there’s still something lingering. He watches as Buck fiddles with his pen, gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looks back up. “I just… I mean, I know I’m here for you, right? But I don’t want it to be weird, or make you feel like I’m crossing a line. Especially now.”

Eddie's expression softens, and he finds himself realizing something. Buck’s worry isn’t just about overstepping with Chris; he’s holding back in ways Eddie hadn’t fully noticed. Maybe, just maybe, Buck had wanted Eddie’s reassurance that night as much as Eddie had needed his. The realization leaves Eddie feeling a pang of guilt for sending Buck home when he’d been so preoccupied, so worried about his place in all this.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice quiet but steady. “You’ve always been there for me and Chris. I’d trust you with him, with anything. Nothing’s changed, alright? Whatever else comes out of this, you’re still family.”

Buck finally cracks a small smile, visibly reassured, and they both take a breath. Eddie nudges him, chuckling. “Now, come on. Show me that infamous system of yours. I know you live for these inventory days.”

Buck’s laugh is more genuine now as he flips the clipboard around, launching into his organization method with renewed enthusiasm. They fall into the usual rhythm—checking boxes, marking lists, and joking around just like any other day. It’s a small, steady reassurance for both of them, the quiet reminder of everything that hasn’t changed.

The shift finally wraps up in the early evening, a relatively calm day by firefighting standards. There were still a few close calls, the usual adrenaline rush, and just barely enough time for meals and power naps between calls, but as Eddie clocks out, he feels more refreshed than he’d expected.

He drives home, replaying the day’s needed conversations and trying to push down the persistent thoughts circling in his mind. 

Opening the door, Eddie’s heart warms at the sight that greets him. On the couch, Maddie is cuddled up with Chris and Jee-Yun, all three of them engrossed in a Disney movie playing softly on the TV. 

Chris has that familiar look of half-defiance, half-nostalgia on his face, like he’d forgotten how much he actually loves Disney until now. It’s almost shocking—he’d declared himself “too old” for Disney ages ago, insisting he was way past it. 

But here he is, relaxed and leaning comfortably into Maddie’s side, eyes bright with enjoyment. It’s adorable, and Eddie has to blink to fully take in the scene.

“Hey, Dad!” Chris calls, his smile wide and easy. “We picked Jee up from preschool together! I’m feeling way better now.” He beams, looking proud of himself for helping Maddie, and Eddie can see that familiar spark in his eyes that lets him know Chris really is doing okay.

For a brief moment, a thought flickers through his mind, unbidden and unsettling. 

This is what it would’ve been like if Chris were a Buckley.  

A mix of emotions hits him, all tangled up: curiosity, a bit of disbelief, and the strange, unexpected warmth of imagining this scene as a Buckley family gathering. It catches him off guard, and he realizes that the idea doesn’t feel as foreign—or as unwelcome—as it did the first time the possibility had crossed his mind. 

Suddenly, he wants to know if it's true, needs to know if it's true, if it really could be his reality.

But before he can spiral too far, there’s a familiar presence right behind him. Eddie startles slightly as he turns to see Buck standing in the doorway, grinning sheepishly. He hadn’t noticed Buck following him home, hadn’t even seen his Jeep pull up, but honestly? He’s not surprised. Eddie manages a knowing smile.

“You’re getting better at sneaking up on people,” Eddie teases lightly.

“Couldn’t leave you hanging, right?” Buck laughs, shrugging like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He glances past Eddie to the cozy scene on the couch, his face softening. “Wow, look at them. Didn’t think Chris would be up for Disney anytime soon.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie says, but his voice is quieter, introspective.

Buck must catch the slight change in Eddie’s tone, but he doesn’t push. Instead, Eddie turns back to Maddie, voice brightening as he steps inside fully.

“Maddie, you’re welcome to stay for dinner,” he offers. “Buck and I will take care of it, and you can call Chim to come over if he’s free. We can make it a full Han-Buckley-Diaz family affair.”

Maddie smiles warmly, nodding. “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve got Jee, and Chris just had a long day—”

“It’s no problem at all. Besides, I know Buck would love to cook for everyone, right?” Eddie says, nudging Buck with a playful grin.

“Of course,” Buck replies, laughing. “I’ll even do the dishes.”

“Wow, volunteering for KP duty? I’m impressed,” Maddie jokes.

With everyone in agreement, Maddie calls Chimney to join them, and Buck follows Eddie to the kitchen, where they start gathering ingredients and brainstorming what to make. 

For now, the heaviness in Eddie’s chest is manageable, replaced with something simpler—a deep, steady contentment as he watches his friends and family make themselves at home in his space, sharing an evening that feels perfectly right, no matter where things stand.

As the evening winds down, Maddie glances over at Jee-Yun, who’s nestled against her, eyelids fluttering heavily as she fights to stay awake. Jee gives a little sigh and leans her head on Maddie’s shoulder, clearly drifting off.

Chimney chuckles softly, noticing her struggle. “Looks like it’s someone’s bedtime,” he whispers, rubbing her back gently.

Jee-Yun stirs at his voice, sleepily lifting her head just enough to look at her parents with a pout. “Don’t wanna sleep yet,” she mumbles, blinking up at Buck as if he’s the only reason she’s kept her eyes open this long. 

“Oh, you don’t have to go to sleep yet but we should go home anyway, it’s getting late” Maddie tried to reason with her, because they all know she is going to fall asleep in the car.

She might probably fall asleep in the next 5 minutes, even, but that’s even more reason to go. She’s already had a few mornings of waking up in tears because she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to her uncle Buck the night before just because she fell asleep.

Maddie smiles down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How about you say goodbye now, sweetheart?” she offers gently.

Jee-Yun nods sleepily, rubbing her eyes with a tiny fist before holding out her arms to Buck. He’s quick to scoop her up, settling her on his hip.

“Hey, Jee,” Buck whispers softly, smiling at her. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

“Bye-bye, Uncle Buck,” she murmurs, pressing her small face into his shoulder. She’s already halfway to dreamland, and Buck gives her a gentle squeeze.

“Bye, kiddo. Sleep tight, okay?”

He passes her carefully back to Chimney, who lifts her onto his shoulder with practiced ease. Jee lets out a little sigh, settling against him as Maddie picks up her bag. She gives Eddie a warm smile as they head to the door.

Everyone chuckles quietly as Jee gives a drowsy wave and a mumbled “Bye-bye” as they say their goodbyes, with Chris especially giving Jee an affectionate squeeze before she’s bundled into her car seat and the Han’s head out for the night.

“Thanks for dinner, Eddie. It was nice to just relax with everyone,” Maddie says, squeezing his hand.

“Anytime, thanks for taking care of Chris,” Eddie replies, smiling back. “Drive safe, and let us know when you’re home.”

After the door closes, Eddie takes a steadying breath, glancing at Buck beside him. 

The house is quiet, the evening finally settling into calm, giving Eddie the moment he needs to gather his thoughts. He glances at Buck, who nods, reassuring him silently. They both know this conversation is heavy—maybe even life-changing—but it’s time, and Chris deserves the truth.

He’s been putting off this talk with Chris, both wanting and dreading the moment, but he knows that if he doesn't do it now, he might never get there again. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, steadying himself, then walks over to where Chris is sitting on the couch. Buck stays nearby, a comforting presence but giving Eddie the space to lead the conversation. Eddie sits beside his son, giving him a soft smile.

"Chris, do you have a few minutes to talk?” Eddie’s voice is calm, but Chris immediately picks up on the seriousness. He shifts to face his dad, nodding.

“Sure, Dad. What's up?” Chris replies, his tone cautious but curious.

Eddie clears his throat, searching for the right words. "First off, I want you to know that I love you. No matter what I’m about to say or what this might mean—you're my son. That has never changed and never will. You with me?"

Chris nods slowly, glancing between Eddie and Buck, who gives him a reassuring smile.

Buck takes a seat on the other side, his presence a grounding reassurance. Eddie takes a deep breath. 

“I know you’re old enough and mature enough to handle things like this, so I’m not going to sugarcoat it. But I also want you to know that no matter what.” he begins, looking directly at him, voice steady but gentle. 

Chris nods again, expression serious now as he listens.

"There’s something I found out recently, something I didn’t expect. It’s… about us, about our family." Eddie pauses, and he never wished to be in the battlefield more than now. "See, I realized that there’s a chance that… maybe, biologically, I might not be your dad.”

Chris’s eyebrows furrow, confusion flickering across his face, but Eddie can tell he's following along. Chris is older now, wise beyond his years in many ways, and Eddie is doing his best to treat him with the maturity he’s earned.

Chris blinks, absorbing the words with a crease forming between his brows. “You’re saying… we might not be related by blood?”

Eddie nods, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. It started when I noticed something—something related to blood types that the doctors told me yesterday. Mine and your mom’s are B-negative, and you’re A-positive.”

Chris’s face scrunches up in confusion, and he looks at Buck, who offers a reassuring smile and jumps in to explain. 

“Basically, it’s kind of a genetic rule,” Buck says, gesturing as he talks. “Certain blood types can’t make others. So if your dad and Shannon are both B-negative, which can never create a positive, nor an A type, I can explain it better later but the point is... It just doesn’t add up.”

Chris takes a minute to process that, looking down at his hands before speaking softly. “So… you’re not my biological dad, then?”

Eddie’s throat tightens as he reaches out, putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “No matter what, I am your dad. I’ve always been your dad and that’s never going to change. But this raised questions, and we wanted to be open with you about it.”

Chris nods, his expression thoughtful. “So, if you’re not my biological dad… who is?”

Eddie glances at Buck, who has gone very still beside Chris, his face careful, watching both of them with quiet intensity.

“That’s the part that surprised me even more,” Eddie says slowly, his voice steady but soft. “There’s a chance it might be… Buck.”

Chris’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s speechless. Then he turns to look at Buck, his mouth parted in surprise. Buck, for his part, looks a little stunned himself, but he’s quick to give Chris a gentle, reassuring smile.

“It’s just a theory,” Buck chimes in, his tone gentle but honest. “But no matter what, you have a family. You have your dad, me, and everyone who loves you. Nothing changes that.”

“That’s what we’re thinking. And if you want, we can do a DNA test to know for sure. But—" he squeezes Chris’s shoulder gently, "I was there from the beginning. None of this changes how much I love you or the fact that you’re my son, Chris. No test or theory could ever change that.”

Chris looks over at Buck, his expression unreadable. “Did… did Mom know?”

Eddie hesitates, pain flashing in his eyes. “I honestly don’t know, mijo. I’m not sure if she knew and never told me or if it was something she didn’t realize either. It’s… complicated.”

Buck steps closer, giving Chris a gentle, steady look. “Chris, no matter what the test might say, that doesn’t mean anything changes. I’d still just be… Buck. Your dad, Eddie, he’s always going to be your dad. And I’ll be here, too, in any way you need. Nothing about this changes that.”

Chris seems to process it for a moment, his face thoughtful but not as upset as Eddie might have feared. He’s nodding slowly, his eyes flickering between the two men who’ve been constants in his life for as long as he can remember.

“What would that mean, if it’s positive?” he asked.

Buck’s face softened, a mixture of nervousness and excitement showing. “It would mean… well, it would mean I was there a long time ago, in a way we didn’t even know. But it also means, whatever happens, you’ve got two people who will always love you.” He took a breath, trying to keep his emotions steady. "Just like always."

Chris nodded, his face brightening a little. “Maybe we should know,” he said after a moment, “just… because. But I know you’re both still here. You’re both my family.”

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed, and he shared a quick look with Buck, who looked just as relieved. Chris’s understanding had eased the heaviness in the room.

Time passed quietly after that heavy conversation. Days turned into weeks, and while the idea of a potential biological connection between Buck and Chris lingered in everyone’s mind, life carried on much the same. Chris still called Eddie "Dad," Buck still visited almost daily, and their dynamic remained intact.

Chris still bantered with Buck and helped Eddie with his errands when his leg allowed. Buck still hovered like a worried hen, fussing about Chris's recovery. And Eddie? He found himself thinking about the possibility of Buck being Chris's biological dad less with dread and more with quiet acceptance.

When they finally managed to find time for the DNA test, it felt surreal that this moment had taken so long to arrive. Buck had suggested an at-home test initially, but Eddie had immediately vetoed it. “I don’t trust those. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

That’s how they ended up sitting in the waiting room of a genetic testing lab on a quiet Thursday morning. They’d chosen a local lab with a good reputation, one that promised results within a week.

As they entered the waiting room, Eddie noted the generic decor—neutral colors, fake plants, and uncomfortable chairs meant to be utilitarian rather than inviting. Chris sat between Eddie and Buck, absently swinging his legs as they waited for their names to be called.

Buck’s attention was quickly drawn to the rack of pamphlets on the wall. He stood and grabbed a few, scanning them with that same curious intensity Eddie had seen him apply to firefighting manuals and crossword puzzles. One, in particular, seemed to catch his eye, and he brought it back to the seat.

"Hereditary Conditions to Watch For."  

He skimmed the bolded list—heart conditions, high cholesterol, and hypertension all jumped out at him. Eddie’s mind immediately went to his father, who had struggled with heart disease for years. For a long time, Eddie had carried the fear that Chris might inherit the same issues. But if Chris wasn’t biologically his… those risks wouldn’t apply.

Eddie didn’t know how to feel about that. Was it relief? Loss? A strange mixture of both?

Beside him, Buck picked up another pamphlet and muttered, “Huh. Leukemia.”

Eddie felt a pang of sympathy at the mention, something Buck rarely brought up. He knew enough about the tragedy to understand the weight behind Buck’s words. “That’s… something to keep in mind,” Eddie said carefully.

Buck nodded. “And, uh…” He flipped to another page. “My dad’s diabetic. Type 2.” Buck continued, gesturing toward another pamphlet. “Not that it’s a guarantee or anything, but it’s good to know. For the future.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. It wasn’t like they hadn’t dealt with health scares before—Chris’s cerebral palsy and other injuries had kept them in hospitals plenty. But somehow, the thought of new potential risks from an entirely different family tree felt overwhelming.

Chris tilted his head, watching Buck with quiet curiosity. “So, if you’re my biological dad, does that mean I have to worry about all of that?”

Buck hesitated, glancing at Eddie before answering. “Not necessarily, buddy. It’s just stuff to keep in the back of your mind. Doesn’t mean it’ll happen, but it’s better to be informed.”

Eddie leaned forward, catching Chris’s gaze. “What matters is that we know what to look out for. No matter what, we’ve got your back.”

Chris nodded, his expression thoughtful but calm.

Their names were called shortly after, breaking the moment. The nurse who greeted them was brisk but polite, explaining the process as they were led to a small room. She handed Chris a swab first, guiding him through the process of collecting a sample from the inside of his cheek. Chris followed her instructions without complaint, though he shot Buck and Eddie a grin as if to say, See? Easy.

Then it was Buck’s turn. He joked about how it felt weirdly invasive for something so simple, earning a chuckle from Chris and a small smile from Eddie.

Once the samples were collected and labeled, the nurse assured them the results would be ready in a week. As they left the room, Eddie glanced down at Chris and saw a flicker of anxiety in his son’s eyes. Without thinking, he slung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze.

Buck walked beside them, quiet for once, his hands shoved into his pockets. The weight of what they had just done hung in the air, but there was also a strange sense of relief. They were finally on the path to answers.

Now all they had to do was wait.

The week after the DNA test felt like the slowest week in existence. Eddie and Buck had both been so sure they could handle waiting for the results, but now that the clock was ticking, it was as though the anticipation had taken over every spare thought. Neither of them said it out loud, but their focus was shot, their nerves frayed. And worst of all, their subtlety had gone out the window.

The firehouse wasn’t the ideal place to deal with life-altering questions. Between calls, drills, and banter, there was little room for quiet contemplation. But the 118 was observant, and the changes in Buck and Eddie’s dynamic didn’t go unnoticed.

At first, it was small things. Eddie wasn’t laughing as easily. Buck’s usual over-the-top enthusiasm was subdued. They avoided eye contact more than usual, like they were afraid of accidentally revealing whatever was on their minds. And though they still worked seamlessly in the field, the tension between them was palpable.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but they’re acting weird,” Chimney muttered one day as the crew sat around the kitchen table, watching Buck and Eddie across the room. They were talking—barely—with Buck gesturing animatedly and Eddie responding in clipped sentences.

Hen raised an eyebrow. “Weird how? They’re always joined at the hip.”

“Yeah, but now they’re trying not to be,” Chimney pointed out. “Like they’re overcompensating or something. You think they’re fighting?”

“Fighting?” Hen snorted. “Please. That’s not tension. That’s ‘we have a big secret and we’re trying not to let anyone figure it out’ vibes.”

Chimney narrowed his eyes. “What kind of secret?”

Before Hen could respond, Bobby walked in, glancing between the two groups. “What are you all whispering about over here?”

Hen grinned, pointing subtly toward Buck and Eddie, who had just left the room. “Your two favorite troublemakers are acting strange. Any idea why?”

Bobby frowned. “No, but now that you mention it…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

Chimney snapped his fingers. “You know what it is? They’re finally dating.”

That earned a laugh from Hen. “Really, Chim? That’s your theory?”

“Hey, it makes sense! Think about it—why else would they be so awkward and secretive? They’re probably trying to figure out how to tell us.”

Bobby shook his head, though a small smile played on his lips. “They’re grown men. If they were dating, they’d tell us when they were ready.”

“Or,” Chimney added, leaning conspiratorially toward Hen, “we press a little. Encourage them to spill the beans.”

Hen rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree.

Meanwhile, Buck and Eddie were blissfully unaware of the theories swirling around them. They were too focused on not thinking about the test results—or at least trying to.

Eddie, in particular, was struggling. He’d told himself not to hope too much, not to get attached to the idea that Buck might actually be Chris’s biological dad. But the thought had taken root, growing despite his best efforts to tamp it down. He worried about how he’d feel if the results came back negative. Would he be disappointed? Relieved? Both?

His thoughts were a hurricane, spinning faster and faster no matter how much he tried to wrestle them into submission. At first, when the idea of Chris’s paternity had come up, it had been a quiet shock—unwelcome, confusing, and destabilizing. But then Buck’s name had entered the equation, and everything had shifted.

At first, it had been a flicker of relief, the tiniest breath of, Thank God, it’s Buck. Eddie trusted Buck with his life, trusted him with Chris. If there was anyone in the world who could share the title of “Chris’s dad,” it was Buck. That single thought had been like an anchor amidst the chaos, steadying him against the sheer weight of the unknown.

But now that thought had grown roots, burrowed deep into Eddie’s heart and mind. He couldn’t stop living as if it were already true, as if the results had come back and confirmed what he was allowing himself to believe: that Buck was Chris’s biological father.

It wasn’t just that the idea made sense. It felt right. It explained the things Eddie had never thought to question—Chris’s adventurous streak, his stubborn determination, his ability to light up a room the same way Buck did. Eddie had started to see connections everywhere, from the way Chris’s eyes sparkled with mischief to how easily he and Buck understood each other.

But every time Eddie found a moment of peace in that idea, the what if came crashing back in.

What if he isn’t?

The thought was like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him every single time. Eddie couldn’t fathom it now, couldn’t fathom going back to the uncertainty he’d felt when the incompatible blood types had first been brought to his attention. It had been like the ground beneath his feet crumbling, every truth he’d taken for granted suddenly unsteady. And now, with Buck in the picture, the stakes had changed entirely.

What if he isn’t?

Eddie tried to prepare himself for the possibility, but the preparation was agony. It felt like willingly stepping back into that moment when he realized the impossibility of his and Shannon’s blood types creating Chris’s. Back to when Eddie had sat there, stunned, trying to make sense of how something so fundamental could be wrong.

The idea of being wrong again—of believing so fully in something only for it to slip through his fingers—was unbearable. He didn’t know how he’d face Buck if the test came back negative, didn’t know how he’d look Chris in the eye and explain it.

And yet, as much as Eddie tried to steel himself, the thought of a negative result felt foreign, like trying to imagine a world where the sky wasn’t blue. Every time he pictured Chris without the tether of Buck’s DNA tying them closer together, it felt like tearing something fundamental apart.

But Eddie knew better than to trust his heart completely. He’d learned the hard way that expectations could be dangerous, that hope could be cruel. So, he tried to brace himself for disappointment, even as his heart whispered, It’s Buck. It has to be Buck.

The push and pull between hope and fear was exhausting. Every time Eddie managed to convince himself to relax, to breathe, the what if came roaring back, louder and sharper than before. Preparing himself for disappointment felt like walking a tightrope, the ground always just out of reach.

By the time the week of waiting was half over, Eddie wasn’t sure what would be worse—the results proving his hopes wrong or the sheer weight of living with the uncertainty for another day.

Buck, on the other hand, was a bundle of frayed nerves, each thought pulling him tighter until it felt like he might snap. He couldn’t stop himself from running through every scenario, every possible outcome, and every implication.

On the surface, he kept telling himself that the results didn’t matter. Chris was Chris, Eddie was Eddie, and their family dynamic wouldn’t change, regardless of what some lab test said. But deep down, Buck couldn’t ignore the tiny, selfish part of him that wanted the results to come back positive.

And that made him feel awful.

Wanting Chris to be his biological son felt like stepping over an invisible line, one he’d never even thought about before. It felt selfish, intrusive, and wrong. Eddie was Chris’s dad, in every way that mattered. Buck had seen firsthand the sacrifices Eddie had made, the way he’d loved and raised Chris with unwavering dedication.

There was no world where Buck would—or even could—be more of a dad to Chris than Eddie already was.

But the thought of Chris being his son still lingered, catching him off guard at the strangest moments. It wasn’t that Buck wanted to take anything away from Eddie. It was just the idea of being part of something bigger, part of the reason Chris existed, that left him breathless with a confusing mix of hope and guilt.

The guilt was the worst of it.

Buck felt like a terrible person for even entertaining the thought, for wanting something that might complicate Eddie’s life or Chris’s sense of stability. He didn’t want to take anything away from them, but the possibility that he might have unknowingly been part of Chris’s story from the very beginning made his chest ache with a longing he hadn’t expected.

And then there was the overthinking.

Every time Buck interacted with Chris, he second-guessed himself. Was he stepping over a boundary Eddie hadn’t set but might have thought about? Was he being too present, too invested? Or worse, was he holding back so much that Chris might notice and feel like something was wrong?

Even the smallest things—a joke during a video game, a hand ruffling Chris’s curls—suddenly felt loaded with meaning. Was he acting differently because of the test, or was he just imagining that he was? Would Eddie think he was pushing too hard, inserting himself into Chris’s life in a way that wasn’t fair or appropriate?

And when Chris wasn’t around, it was no better. Every time his name came up in conversation, Buck would freeze for a fraction of a second, overanalyzing how much he contributed. Was he talking about Chris too much? Too little? Was he accidentally making it obvious that the test had been consuming his thoughts for days?

The truth was, Buck was terrified.

He was terrified of the results coming back negative because he’d built this tiny, fragile hope in his chest that he hadn’t even realized was there until it started growing. But he was also terrified of the results coming back positive because, if they did, what would that mean?

Would he even know how to navigate that? Could he live with the knowledge that Chris was his biological son but not overstep the boundaries of Eddie’s role as his father? Buck wasn’t sure he could. And just thinking about that made him feel like the worst kind of person.

More than anything, Buck wanted to be a good friend to Eddie, to support him and reassure him. But his own anxiety was so overwhelming that he feared he’d just make things worse. Instead, he found himself pulling away, avoiding the conversations he’d normally dive headfirst into.

Every interaction felt like a minefield, every thought a spiral he couldn’t quite escape. And through it all, Buck carried the crushing weight of one question: What kind of person am I, to want this so badly?

So, for the whole week, they’d both started avoiding too much conversation, afraid that one slip-up might reveal everything in their heads. But that only made things more awkward, feeding the firehouse rumor mill in ways neither of them realized.

It all came to a head during lunch one day when Chimney decided to put his theory to the test.

“So,” Chimney said casually, leaning back in his chair. “When were you two planning to tell us?”

Eddie, mid-bite, froze. Buck looked up, confused. “Tell you what?”

Chimney’s grin widened, his gaze darting between Buck and Eddie with that infuriatingly knowing look that made them both squirm. “That you’re dating. Don’t act surprised; we’ve all seen it coming.”

Buck’s heart stuttered, and Eddie nearly tripped over his own feet as they both froze in place.

“What?” they exclaimed in unison, their synchronized outburst only feeding Chimney’s smirk.

Buck blinked rapidly, scrambling for words as his face turned crimson. “That’s—no, we’re not—”

Eddie, caught equally off guard, opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to get any words out. Instead, his mind took a sharp left turn into Chris’ voice echoing in his memory: “Are you guys gonna tell me you’re dating or something?”

He’d brushed it off at the time, but now the weight of it hit him square in the chest. His son had seen something between them—something Eddie hadn’t even considered until that night. And the worst part was that now, with Chimney putting the idea out there again, it didn’t feel so far-fetched. The way Buck always showed up for Chris, the way they worked together seamlessly, how Buck was somehow already part of their family.

Eddie swallowed hard, his throat tight. Was that something he wanted? Something he could want?

His thoughts spiraled faster than he could keep up with. Buck was already such an enormous part of his life—of Chris’ life. They worked together, lived near each other, depended on each other for everything. Buck wasn’t just a friend; he was family . Introducing feelings into that dynamic felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, daring the wind to knock him over.

And right now, with everything else already between them—this monumental question of parentage hanging over their heads—it felt like the worst possible time to even think about it. What if the results came back and the truth, whatever it was, shattered the foundation they’d built? Eddie already feared that they wouldn’t survive this as they were—that no matter how much they loved each other, this might pull them apart.

The idea of adding something as volatile as feelings to that mix was terrifying. What if he admitted to himself that he could fall for Buck—because of course he could; who wouldn’t?—and it all went wrong? What if Buck didn’t feel the same? Or worse, what if he did, but the strain of all of this—of parentage and boundaries and the mess they were in—was too much for either of them to bear?

The thought of losing Buck, of losing the quiet comfort of their friendship and the steady presence he’d become in Eddie’s life, was unbearable. Chris adored him. Eddie… needed him.

But if they got this wrong—if they misstepped—it wouldn’t just be their friendship at stake. It would be their entire lives.

Eddie clenched his fists, trying to push the thoughts aside. Later, he told himself firmly. You can think about this later. Not now. Not with this still hanging over your head.

But the idea lingered, a quiet hum of unease beneath the louder chaos in his mind. Because deep down, he already knew: there was no walking back from this. No matter what the results said, no matter what the truth turned out to be, everything between them was already changing.

Beside him, Buck had gone quiet too. The idea was ricocheting around his own head, unsettling him in a way he couldn’t explain. Him? And Eddie? Sure, they were close—closer than anyone else in his life—but dating? Was that what people saw? And worse, did it make sense?

The thought made his palms sweat. Because the truth was...it didn’t feel like the worst idea in the world.

They both stood there, paralyzed by their spiraling thoughts, until the simultaneous buzz of their phones snapped them back to reality.

The vibration was loud in the otherwise quiet room, making them both jump. Buck fumbled to pull his phone out, and Eddie quickly followed. They exchanged a glance, their stomachs dropping in unison as they saw the sender’s name: the lab.

The results.

Chimney was still watching them, eyebrows raised in expectation. “Well?”

Eddie shoved his phone back into his pocket, forcing his face into a neutral mask. “We, uh...we’ve got something to take care of.”

“Yeah,” Buck added quickly, his voice a little too high-pitched. “Something important.”

Without waiting for a response, they both bolted for the door, their sudden exit leaving the rest of the team staring after them in confusion.

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Chimney said dryly, turning to Hen, who was already smirking.

“Think they’ll admit it before or after they move in together?” Hen asked.

Chimney leaned back in his chair. “I’m putting money on after .”

The cool evening air wasn’t enough to calm them. Eddie’s heart was pounding too loudly in his ears, his breath too shallow. Beside him, Buck looked equally frazzled, his hand twitching at his side like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Let’s—” Eddie gestured vaguely toward the parking lot. “Let’s just…go sit somewhere.”

Buck nodded wordlessly, and they made their way toward his Jeep. It was a small blessing that Buck never remembered to lock it, a habit he had all but abandoned while at the station. Neither of them had their keys, and neither had the energy to go back inside. The unlocked Jeep was their oasis, a pocket of privacy in a world that suddenly felt too overwhelming.

They climbed in, the familiar creak of the seats grounding them slightly. Eddie pulled the door shut, sealing them off from the world, while Buck fumbled with his phone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, thick with anticipation and dread. Finally, Eddie opened the email on his own phone, his thumb hovering over the attachment. He glanced at Buck, who was already staring at the same thing.

“Ready?” Eddie asked, though his voice barely rose above a whisper.

Buck nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

They opened the results at the same time.

Eddie’s eyes locked on the words almost instantly: Probability of Paternity: 99.99%.

The world tilted on its axis. He blinked, his brain trying to process what his eyes were telling him. He read it again. And again. Each time, the words didn’t change, but the weight of them grew heavier.

Beside him, Buck was frozen, his phone gripped so tightly his knuckles were white. Eddie knew he’d seen the same thing.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. The silence in the Jeep was deafening, the only sound the faint hum of the firehouse in the distance.

Eddie couldn’t stop staring at the screen. His hands were trembling, his chest tight. The truth he had been so desperate for, so afraid of, was finally here. And he didn’t know what to do with it.

The silence in the Jeep stretched until it became suffocating, the truth sitting heavy between them like a physical weight. Eddie let out a shaky breath, his phone slipping from his hands into his lap. He turned his gaze toward Buck, who still hadn’t said a word.

“Buck,” Eddie began softly, unsure of how to start. “It’s… it’s you.”

Buck flinched, his grip on his phone tightening until Eddie thought it might snap in half. “I’m sorry,” Buck said suddenly, his voice thick.

Eddie blinked, startled. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck repeated, louder this time, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t want to— I never wanted to take this from you, Eddie. I swear.” His hands were shaking now, his words filled with guilt. “You’re his dad. You’ve always been his dad. I—”

“Stop,” Eddie interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. Buck fell silent, his chest heaving as he tried to get his emotions under control.

Eddie leaned back against the seat, letting his eyes close for a moment as he searched for the right words. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady.

“Buck,” he said, his tone quieter now, “you didn’t take anything from me.”

“But—”

“No,” Eddie cut him off again, shaking his head. “I’ve been Chris’s dad since the day he was born, and nothing— nothing —is ever going to change that. You’re not replacing me. You’re not taking my place. You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

Buck looked at him, his expression conflicted, like he wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite manage it. Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not going to lie,” he admitted. “When this first came up, I freaked out. I thought the ground was falling out from under me. But you know what?” He met Buck’s eyes, his gaze steady and sure. “If it wasn’t me… I’m glad it’s you.”

Buck’s breath hitched. “Eddie—”

“No, listen to me,” Eddie pressed. “If it had to be anyone else, I’d want it to be you. You’re already a part of Chris’s life. You love him, and he loves you. This doesn’t change that.” He gave a small, shaky laugh. “If anything, it just makes it more official.”

Buck’s lips parted, but no words came out. He looked at Eddie like he didn’t quite know what to do with what he’d just heard.

“I mean it,” Eddie continued, his voice soft but resolute. “I wouldn’t want this to be anyone else. And I’m not mad, Buck. I’m not… disappointed. I’m relieved.”

Buck frowned, his brows knitting together. “Relieved?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Because it’s you. And I know you’ll always be there for him. For us.”

Buck’s shoulders slumped, his grip on his phone finally loosening. He looked down, his jaw working as he tried to process Eddie’s words.

“I don’t know if I deserve that,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, I do,” Eddie replied firmly. “And Chris does too.”

For the first time since they’d read the results, a small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of Buck’s mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Eddie smiled back, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Just… be you. That’s all Chris needs.”

Buck nodded, finally letting out a shaky laugh. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Eddie said, leaning back in his seat. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe again.

Eddie stepped out of the Jeep, his legs unsteady as the weight of the moment settled over him. Buck followed, closing the door behind him, but before they could take a step toward the firehouse, Eddie stopped abruptly and turned to Buck.

Without thinking, without second-guessing himself, he pulled Buck into a tight hug.

Buck froze for a moment, caught off guard, before his arms came up to wrap around Eddie. It wasn’t one of those quick, polite hugs they occasionally exchanged after big moments. This was different—Eddie was holding on like he was anchoring himself, and Buck didn’t dare let go.

“Thank you,” Eddie murmured, his voice muffled against Buck’s shoulder.

“For what?” Buck asked, though his voice cracked slightly.

Eddie pulled back just enough to look at him, his hands still gripping Buck’s shoulders. “For being you. For being here. For Chris. For me. Just… everything.”

Buck blinked rapidly, his eyes threatening to water. “Eddie…”

Eddie gave him a small smile, his grip tightening briefly before he finally let go. “Come on. We should get back before they think we’ve disappeared.”

Buck nodded, a little dazed, and as they started walking, he reached out without thinking, draping an arm over Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it, their steps falling naturally in sync as they headed back inside.

When they walked into the firehouse like that, Eddie relaxed, and Buck's hand still firmly on his shoulder, they might as well have been waving a neon sign.

Hen, lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. Chim, passing by with a mug of coffee, did a double take. And Bobby, standing near the kitchen, blinked in surprise before quickly schooling his expression into something neutral.

It was Chim who broke the silence, muttering, “Yup. Definitely dating.”

Eddie heard it but didn’t even flinch. Buck must have caught it too, but if he had, he didn’t react either. They walked straight to their lockers, the tension between them no longer as heavy, and if their closeness added fuel to the rumor fire, neither seemed to care.

For the first time all day, the spirals and overthinking didn’t feel so suffocating. All that mattered was the steady presence at each other’s side.

Later that evening, after the rest of the day passed in a haze of chores and carefully avoided questions from the firehouse team, Eddie and Buck sat down with Chris in the living room. Eddie’s heart raced as he glanced at Buck, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. Chris, perched on the couch, looked between them expectantly.

Eddie cleared his throat. “So, uh, Chris… we got the results back from the test.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded but curious. “And?”

Eddie glanced at Buck again, then back at his son. “It confirmed what we thought. Buck is…” His voice faltered, but he pushed through. “Biologically, Buck is your dad.”

Chris stared at them for a moment, processing the information. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he asked, “Does this mean you’re getting married now?”

Both Eddie and Buck froze, their mouths opening and closing in unison like fish out of water.

“Wh—what?” Eddie finally managed to stammer.

Chris leaned back against the couch, folding his arms, his lips quirking into a mischievous smirk. “Well, Dad, you married Mom because she was pregnant with me. So, logically, you should marry Buck now.”

Buck’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he held up his hands as if to ward off the comment. “Chris, that’s… that’s not how this works—”

“But at least now he’d actually want to,” Chris interrupted, his voice dripping with sass.

Eddie blinked at him, his brain short-circuiting. “Chris!”

“What?” Chris shrugged, all innocence. “You clearly have more feelings for Buck than you ever did for Mom. I’m just saying this makes way more sense.”

Buck coughed, covering his mouth, but it didn’t do much to hide his embarrassment—or the small laugh that escaped despite himself.

Eddie ran a hand over his face, groaning. “Christopher, we’re not—”

“Not yet, maybe,” Chris cut in, his smirk widening. “But you could. I wouldn’t mind. You two already act like a married couple anyway.”

Buck buried his face in his hands while Eddie stared at Chris, utterly speechless.

“Okay,” Eddie finally said, his voice stern but tinged with amusement. “That’s enough matchmaking for one night.”

Chris just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m just saying… you’d be cute together.”

Buck let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, kid.”

“And proud of it,” Chris replied, his tone smug.

Eddie sighed, though he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Go to your room before you get any more ideas.”

Chris stood, still grinning, and paused before heading down the hall. “Just think about it, okay? I’m rooting for you!”

Buck and Eddie sat in stunned silence as Chris disappeared into his room.

“Well,” Buck said after a moment, his voice light despite his obvious embarrassment. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”

Eddie groaned, leaning back against the couch. “He’s going to hold this over our heads forever, isn’t he?”

Buck grinned. “Probably. But hey, at least he’s taking the news well.”

“Too well,” Eddie muttered, though he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Buck was still chuckling, his face flushed from Chris’s parting words, when Eddie leaned back against the couch with a groan and muttered, “He got that from you, you know.”

Buck turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What? The sass?”

Eddie nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips. “The sass. The smartassness. The timing. The ability to make me question all my life choices in five words or less.”

Buck laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and Eddie found himself grinning despite the ridiculousness of the situation. They sat there for a moment, their laughter tapering off, before Eddie’s expression softened.

“And he can also read me way better than I read myself,” Eddie said, his voice quieter now, contemplative. “Just like you.” He turned to Buck, his gaze steady. “You know, I’m starting to question how we didn’t figure this out sooner.”

Buck frowned, his smile faltering slightly. “Figure what out?”

Eddie hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t planned to say anything—at least not tonight—but after everything, it felt like the words were right there, waiting to be spoken.

“Mainly, that he is biologically related to you but… also that he is right,” Eddie admitted, his voice trembling just a little. “About the feelings thing.”

Buck blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Eddie…”

“No, let me just—let me finish,” Eddie interrupted, his words tumbling out in a rush. “All of this—the blood type thing, the test, finding out you’re Chris’s dad—it’s been a lot. But the one thing I keep coming back to is how… right it feels. And not just because of Chris. Because of you.”

Buck’s lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out.

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie continued, his voice steadier now. “Shannon and I… we loved each other, but it wasn’t—she felt more like my best friend than anything else. And my other relationships? They were fine, but they never…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“They never felt like this,” Eddie finished, his gaze locking with Buck’s. “Like you and me. You’re—Buck, you’re my best friend, but you’re also so much more than that. And maybe I’m an idiot for not seeing it sooner, but I need you to know… I’m happy it’s you. I’m so damn happy you’re Chris’s dad. Because you’re already so much a part of our lives, I can’t even imagine it being anyone else.”

For a moment, Buck just stared at him, his blue eyes wide and shining with something Eddie couldn’t quite place.

Then, without a word, Buck leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if Buck was giving Eddie the chance to pull away. But Eddie didn’t. Instead, he leaned into it, his hand coming up to cup the back of Buck’s neck as the kiss deepened, years of unspoken feelings spilling out all at once.

When they finally pulled back, both of them were breathless.

“Well,” Buck said, his voice a little shaky but filled with that familiar Buck energy, “that’s one way to say thank you.”

Eddie laughed, his forehead resting against Buck’s. “You’re welcome.”

For the first time in weeks, Eddie felt like he could breathe again.