Work Text:
Chris set his phone up on the counter, a spot between the coffee pot and the sink that he knew captured a perfect angle of the table where he had set up the baking supplies and hit record and leant towards the camera.
“Hey everybody, I’m gonna bake cookies with Buck and I’m going to do the thing where you crack an egg on their forehead. I wanted to see how he would react.” He stepped back and moved a canister in front of his phone so Buck wouldn’t be able to see.
“Buck?!” He leaned his head out the doorway and called through the rest of the house. His dad looked at him from the couch.
“What have I told you about yelling in the house?” Eddie asked, not looking up from the book he was paging through.
“What’s up, Chris?!” Buck’s voice came loudly from the laundry room. Chris gave his dad a look that he hoped said Look at your husband, yelling in the house.
“You ready to make cookies?” Chris said, raising his voice just a little louder just to spite his dad who was looking grouchy in his seat.
“You know, mijo, the house isn’t that big. You do not need to be that loud.” Eddie said, closing his book and staring at him. Chris smiled and shrugged.
“Maybe you should tell your husband that.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Maybe you will what?” Buck asked, in a normal tone of voice as he approached them from the hallway.
“Dad wants us to stop yelling in the house.”
“Oh, sorry babe.” He walked over and planted a kiss on top of Eddie’s head. “I thought you liked it when I was loud.” He whispered before smiling and dodging the boom Eddie tried to hit him with. “Your dad is right, we shouldn’t shout.” He smiled at Chris and Eddie turned red.
“Ew. You guys know most kids' parents are normal and don’t have to touch each other constantly.” chris gestured to where Buck’s arm was dropped lazily on Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie’s hand had found itself lazily tracing up the back of Buck’s thigh. “I’m a kid. I shouldn’t be seeing this.” Chris said, pretending to cover his eyes before turning back towards the kitchen.
“I think we are cute.” Buck shrugged, giving Eddie’s shoulder a quick squeeze before removing his arm.
“We are very cute. Now, go help our son make cookies.” Eddie responded, slapping Buck’s ass as he reopened his book.
“Alrighty! What are we making today?” Buck asked, throwing his apron over his head as he entered and tying it behind his back.
“Chocolate chip cookies.” Christopher held out a wooden spoon. “You are in charge of mixing.”
Buck took it and gave a salute with it. “Aye aye.” Christopher slowly dropped the softened butter into the bowl. “Are we making these cookies for any particular reason?” He asked as he slowly started to mash the butter as Chris dropped in the brown sugar.
“Uh - no. Just wanted to bake something.” Chris felt his cheeks getting hot.
“So, these aren’t for that girl you were up so late messaging last night?” Buck didn’t look at him, instead turned the spoon around the bowl mixing the ingredients together. “You aren’t as quiet as you think you are.”
Chris dumped the second cup of sugar into the bowl and thought about how he could possibly change the subject. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Her name is Sarah, I believe.” His dad’s voice came from the doorway. Chris looked up at him, the traitor. “I heard you talking on the phone after dinner the other day.”
“Sarah is a nice name. You should have her over for dinner.” Buck said quickly, still focusing on getting everything mixed together. “Why couldn’t we use the mixer for this?” He asked and Chris ignored him.
Instead he met his dad’s eyes and mouthed “Why” at him over Buck’s head.
Eddie shrugged, a smile on his face. “Why not?” He mouthed back. Chris needed to figure out how to sound proof his room, apparently his dads didn’t believe in privacy.
“We could do lasagna or there is a pork roast recipe I found I’ve been meaning to try. Does she eat meat? What does she like?”
Chris had learned, in the few years that his dad and Buck had gotten together and subsequently married, that lying to them wasn’t going to work. Pretending it didn’t matter also wasn’t going to work. His dad always knew how to read him better than anyone. Then there was Buck, and well Christopher found it harder to lie to Buck than most people. He sighed, dejected.
“She does.” He relented, knowing that by giving them this inch they would find a way to make it a mile. “Before you ask, yes she’s my girlfriend, she’s in my class at school, and it’s very new.” He said quickly, trying to get ahead of the questions. He also looked down at the table and remembered why he was doing this whole thing. The tray of eggs was sitting on the kitchen table, primed and ready. He reached out and grabbed one.
“That’s great, bud. See when she can come over for dinner and we will set something up. Egg?” Buck’s face was bright and beaming when he looked at Chris
Chris smiled at him, egg in hand. “Sure. Sounds good.” He brought the egg up and hit it squarely on Buck’s forehead. He could barely contain the giggle as he brought the broken egg down and let its contents fall into the bowl.
Buck was staring at him, dumbfounded. Chris couldn’t stop laughing, and Eddie looked genuinely delighted. “New technique to crack eggs?” Eddie asked but Chris didn’t answer, he was laughing too hard.
Buck straighted up, rubbing lightly the spot where the egg had hit. “Do you see the way your son treats me?” He whined at Eddie who came over and pressed a kiss into Buck’s forehead.
“I’m so sorry. Did our son hurt you?” Eddie asked as Chris continued laughing. “Say, Chris, how many eggs do you need for the recipe.”
“Two.” Chris smiled.
“No, no, let's not do this.” Buck said, backing away from the table. Eddie was faster and a second egg hit Buck’s forehead.
Unfortunately, Eddie moved too fast and the shell cracked and raw egg started dripping down Buck’s face. “That is grounds for divorce, you know.” Buck said, his tone flat. Yet, Chris knew Buck wasn’t mad. He could tell from the mischievous glint in his eye.
Eddie frowned big and fake, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist. “Oh, don’t be mad.” He said. “You look cute.”
“Gross.” Chris hated when they did PDA in front of him but he was also glad he caught it on camera for posterity, for when he needed to remember them.
There was a part of him that was pleased that his dad was happy enough to be embarrassing to him. It was a lot better than when his dad was sad and embarrassing. Immensely better.
He was lost in that particular thought when suddenly he felt something hard hit his forehead. Buck had, in one swift movement, smashed an egg on both his and his Dad’s forehead. “Oh what the hell, Buck?” He heard his dad ask.
“We really shouldn’t be wasting eggs in this economy.” Buck scolded, as if he hadn’t just used wasted two of them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have cookies to finish.”
Chris met his dad’s eyes and gestured towards the flour and hoped his dad knew what he was saying. He watched as his dad’s eyes go wide and a smile spread across his face. They moved at the same time, grabbing a handful of flour each as Buck tried to get the cookie mixture back on track.
His dad held up a hand behind Buck’s back and counted down from three. At the same time they threw the flour into Buck’s face. It was sudden and glorious and as the cloud of white dust settled Buck stood, the expression on his face unreadable under the layers of flour and egg. “Really?” He asked, dropping the spoon in the bowl. Eddie and Chris dissolved into giggles as Buck reached for the egg tray.
The first one Buck threw hit Eddie in the chest. The second hit the cupboard behind Chris’s head. The kitchen then erupted into shouts and laughter as the three scrambled to take cover. “The economy! Buck! Think of the economy!” Chris cried through his laughter as he ducked behind a chair.
The rest of the afternoon passed chaotically with ingredients flying around the kitchen as the sun set, a bowl of cookie dough forgotten on the table. It was going to be a bear to clean up and they may have to start to cookies over but all Chris could think about about as he ducked away from a handful of flour his dad had launched towards him was that this, above everything else, was what home was supposed to feel like.