Archive of Our Own

Edmundo ‘Eddie’ Diaz is losing a chess match to a dog, an elephant is staring at him, and the worst part of all this is that it’s all his fault. Well, not all. Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley definitely played a part.

It all started a month ago.

Eddie was having an excruciating dinner with Chris and his parents. It was actively suffocating Eddie, the idea that Chris was doing better with them than with him, his parents jumping into every conversation, trying to prove they were a more suitable environment for Chris.

Ramon and Helena Diaz tried every trick in the book to deter Eddie, put pressure on him. However, what they forgot to count on was that Eddie Diaz does not panic. As long as they steer clear of his dating life, Eddie can marry the idea of Chris coming back. As long as they don’t mention any army trauma, he can join them on the battlefield and will fight back. Because Eddie Diaz does not panic.

Eddie would never regret learning a single thing about Christopher’s life, however, maybe just this time, he should have kept his questions to himself, said he’s proud, and changed the subject.

Sadly, that’s not what happened. Eddie dug, probed, and created his own downfall.

“Something new at pool club?” At the time, it seemed like a safe question. His parents told him Chris joined when he got to El Paso and that he enjoyed it immensely, in their words.

“Not rea-” Chris began to answer.

“Chris doesn’t go to the pool club anymore, Eddie,” his mom said, somehow disappointed in Eddie’s lack of knowledge, like she wasn’t the only source of information nowadays.

“Oh, I didn’t know that, sorry,” he apologizes specifically to Chris. “What happened?”

“Nothi-” Chris tries again.

“Chris is now a proud member of the chess club,” his mom jumps in again on Chris’ sentence.

Eddie ground the knuckles of his hands under the table. He always wants to talk about Chris, but right now, he would prefer to talk to him directly. His knuckles whitened with the suppressed frustration, Eddie absolutely refused to give his parents the satisfaction of making a scene.

“So, you’re a chess master now, Chris?” he made pointed eye contact with his mom, hopefully conveying ‘Please let my son speak for himself,’ but to be utterly honest, if it conveyed ‘Stay the fuck away from my son,’ he wouldn’t be completely mad.

“He’s not a master yet, but we can get there with practice and discipline, right, Chris?” his dad said, and if Eddie knew what it sounds like from Ramon, he’d say his voice carried fatherly pride.

But good lord, is it hard with his parents? One finally relents in their campaign to frustrate Eddie to an early grave, and the other picks up the mantle with zero restraint.

Because genuinely, what the actual fuck is this ‘practice and discipline’ talk? Yes, Eddie is a hypocrite. He strives on practice and discipline, but for himself, because his pre-frontal cortex developed in the army, not for his teenage son. And yes, in general, he would agree that practice and discipline are important for growing kids, especially teenagers. Still, his dad does not have to run Christopher’s formative years like the Navy.

“I’m sure you’re great at it, mijo. What’s the coolest thing you learned so far?” Eddie asks -as the name suggests- his son, and yet it’s still his dad who answers.

“They learned the Sicilian Defense last week.”

“Are you my mijo, Dad?” Eddie knows he’s stooping low, but he still purposefully uses a voice a teacher might use on an annoying overachiever or a mansplainer. Great. His dad is a childsplainer.

At least, it gains him a snort from Chris. If he’s going to antagonize his parents, he’s going to do it to the sweet sound of Chris's laughter.

Eddie tries again. “So, Chris, did you learn anything interesting?”

Christopher’s smile dies down a bit. “Yeah, sure. The Sicilian Defense was… captivating,” he glances at his grandpa.

He has absolutely no knowledge of chess. The words ‘Sicilian Defense’ mean nothing to him, but maybe they should. Is it time for Eddie to learn chess? At the ripe age of 33? “Really? The Sicilian Defense is the coolest thing about chess?” He asks tentatively.

Before he gets the chance to start planning adult chess lessons, Chris snorts under his breath, finally wiping off the uneasy look on his face.

“It’s interesting… But, did you know that the second book published in English ever was about chess?” Christopher’s excited voice sounds like wind chimes on a summer evening.

“I didn’t. Wow, that’s cool. I didn’t realize chess was that popular even that long ago.” Eddie didn’t know this because, once again, he knows absolutely nothing about the game. “Did you learn that at the club?”

“No, we just play chess at the club,” weirdly, Chris wilts again, mentioning the club. “Buck told me that,” his son's face lights up, looking like he’s reminiscing about a previous conversation that Eddie had no idea happened.

Chris hasn’t called his dad in God knows how long, and any text messages he gets are short, to the point, and mostly impersonal, but of course, he talked to Buck. He truly is his father’s son. Eddie could be mad at every single person on the planet, yet he’d still call Buck.

“You talked to Buck, buddy?” His voice is, maybe for the first time tonight, hopeful, bordering on optimistic. If Chris is speaking to Buck, Eddie has nothing to worry about. Buck will always take care, as he calls them, of his Diaz boys.

“Yeah, I needed his help with a school project.”

The way he says it makes it sound so close to I missed him.

Since Chris moved to El Pase, Eddie has become familiar with the need to run up to his kid and envelop him in a crushing hug, press a light kiss to the curls on his head. Right now, though, right now, he is overcome with the need to sprint to Chris and never let him go. Scream to the skies, ‘I miss you so much,’ or maybe just murmur into the breeze, ‘I miss him too.’

“EDDIE!”

A meteorite (Helena Diaz) crashes into the Earth (peaceful father-son conversation), and kills all the dinosaurs (Eddie’s joy). Maybe the fossils now concealed by layers and layers of soil can say hi to the buried love life and army trauma, because a different asteroid (Ramon Diaz) made sure they stay hidden too.

“Yes?” Eddie asks carefully so as not to upset a Genesis-level flood on top as well.

His mom’s eyes narrow with disappointment. “You’re not concerned that your son is talking to a strange man?”

He’s dealt with disappointment from his parents his entire childhood, but tonight he’s not going to let it run his life. “I mean, he’s a bit quirky, but I wouldn’t say Buck’s strange, per se.”

“Don’t be a comedian, Edmundo!” His mom shuts him down, completely scandalized at Eddie’s audacity to joke.

Chris laughed, he thinks to himself.

His dad seems to feel the need to remind everyone at the table that he’s present. “You really have zero concerns over a stranger talking to Chris? Without supervision!”

And reminded Eddie is. He tries to take a few calming breaths because the urge to keep this evening even remotely civil has suddenly gone out the window.

“I would have many concerns over a stranger talking to Chris, but lucky for us all, he was talking to our Buck. I can’t really supervise my son when you only let me see him at sporadic dinners, like he’s a distant relative,” he snarled.

Our Buck resonates in his head. Bounces from the walls of his mind like a never-ending echo. Chris and Eddie are Buck’s Diaz boys, as much as he is their Buck.

“And whose fault is that?”

Eddie fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Not Buck’s,” he deadpans.

However, he cannot stop the feeling he had as a teenager, lying to his parents about who would be at a party. His statement is mostly true, but he is omitting some key details. Shannon was going to be at the party, and Eddie spiraled about Buck dating men.

‘It was a date,’ Buck said, sitting in the kitchen. Eddie told him what was expected (he’s had tons of practice with expectations), but as he exited the loft, panic crept over him. A fight or flight mode, warning him, not of danger, but that the key in the locked, hidden door in Eddie’s mind is starting to turn.

He had an inkling of what was behind it. Blue eyes and flushed cheeks. Laughter and pancakes. A strong chest and a beating heart.

Whether it was fight or flight, Eddie doesn’t know, but he made sure the door stayed locked. He knew the moment he met Kim, it was the wrong way to go about it, but the key gave a good fight, and Eddie was so, so tired.

“Can you take this seriously?” she demanded.

“I’m trying, Mom. But you won’t even let Chris speak.”

If anyone questioned where Eddie got his dramatic eye rolls from, he would point them straight to his mom, because the one she lets slip past her stone wall face is truly incredible. “Okay then. Chris, anything to add?”

Chris looks up from his plate, where he has been pushing his food for the past fifteen minutes. “The first folding chessboard was invented by an English priest, so he could play in disguise.” He truly is Eddie’s kid.

Helena throws her hands to the side as the last remnants of her computer leave her. “See what we mean, Eddie. This ‘Buck’ is not a good influence.”

“Because he provides fun facts about chess?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Because he’s leading Chris astray!”

This seems to have piqued Christopher’s interest, and not in a good way. “He’s not leading me astray. He saved my life,” he spat angrily.

The memory washes over Eddie as… Well, as a tsunami wave would. He has half the mind to think it’s not a great experience to share with his parents, but he really doesn’t mind it. If Buck still brings Chris a peace of mind, his presence and heroics making him feel safe, he could not care less what his parents have to say about it.

“Why would he have to save Chris’s life?”

“Give dad a break. I’m the one who’s supposed to be mad at him, not you,” Chris yelled as he pushed away from the table, collecting his crutches to leave this disastrous dinner.

“Don’t talk to your grandma like that,” Ramon scolded him like a petulant child.

Eddie’s blood boiled in his veins. “Don’t talk to my son like that.”

It was only on rare occasions that Eddie raised his voice at his parents, but today definitely demanded it.

Chris looks at his dad for a moment, as if calculating complex cost-benefit ratios, before deciding, “I want to sleep over here.”

Nothing has ever sounded better to Eddie. The urge to go hug him is back, and even stronger than before.

His mom blinks in surprise. “Are you sure?”

Chris doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes.”

And that was that for this attempt at a family dinner.

Eddie’s parents try to convey something with their pointed looks, but it feels more like a childish attempt at a staring contest, so he ignores it and breaks the stifling silence by collecting the plates.

He gives his parents a moment to get their jackets and say their goodbyes to Chris before walking them out to the door.

He pats his dad on the shoulder and half-hugs his mom.

“We need to have a talk about this ‘Buck’,” his mom tries again.

Eddie keeps his voice level when he speaks, finally showing that this conversation is not going to lead to anything. “Are you going to forbid me from being best friends with him at 35 years?” Somehow, the term ‘best friend’ tastes like ash on his tongue. “Because it didn’t work last time you tried that, remember?” He vaguely gestures to Chris, paying no attention to the fact that he just compared Buck to Shannon.

Because when Eddie has a best friend, he stands by them. Especially when his parents try to talk him out of it. He’s also been known to go slightly overboard to show his loyalty. At least Buck won’t get pregnant if Eddie decides he really wants to piss his parents off.

A question flashes through his mind: What would Eddie have to do to defy biology with Buck? He imagines blue eyes looking up at him, filled with pleasure, cheeks flushed crimson. Red scratches on his back. Soft whimpering and loud moans. He imagines fu-

Eddie shivers under the cold draft coming from the locked door, which rattles violently. Shaking door handle, shaking weak knees. He leans his full body weight on it and agrees that it’s to stop it from opening, not to be closer to the images of his best friends' naked chest.

His mom’s slightly grating voice pulls him back to the present. “Look how that worked out last time.”

“It worked out great. I got the best kid in the world thanks to Shannon… Mom, I love you, but Chris and I have a lot of catching up… I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Sorry about tonight,” Eddie apologizes to Chris whilst he’s doing the dishes, Chris just hanging out in the small kitchen.

Eddie lets himself believe it’s because they both miss the safe and happy surroundings of the one in South Bedford Street.

Chris gives a small shrug as evidence that he heard the apology. “Were they always like that? When you were a kid?” He asks.

Eddie wonders if he should sugarcoat his upbringing, ultimately deciding he’s never lying to his kid again. “Basically… I mean, they had their moments, it wasn’t this tense all the time… but, uhm… yeah, they could be a lot,” he confesses. “They really care about you, Chris… Even if they show it in slightly suffocating ways,” he assures his son.

Chris recalibrates what he just learned. “What did you mean by: 'only letting you see me at sporadic dinners’?”

“Uhh… I know you’re mad at me… Fairly so, but I want to be near you,” he starts shyly. “You can still be mad at me, but I wanted to hang out like we used to… At least sometimes.” Eddie feels like he’s treading never-ending water, completely out of his depth. He does want to spend time with Chris, but he also does not want to spook him out.

“They never said anything… I didn’t know you still wanted to hang out,” Chris says solemnly.

Eddie stops resisting the urge to hug his son, and he drops his shoulders to Chris’s level to wrap an arm around him. “Chris, no, I always want to talk to you. If you need space from me, I will give you the entire universe, but I always want to spend time with you,” he reassures.

“Did you know there are more possible chess games to be played than atoms in the whole visible universe?” Chris sniffles into the hug.

“That’s actually insane,” Eddie offers honestly. Maybe he really should give chess a try.

Chris looks up at him. “Yeah… It’s called Shannon’s number.”

“What?” he croaks.

“Buck went on a research binge when I told him about the chess club,” Chris explains, like it’s the most obvious thing. “He said that Mom is going to make sure each of my games is special… Just like I am.“

Oh Buck.

Eddie’s vision begins to swim, as tears well up in his eyes.

It’s not lust that’s threatening him from behind the door this time. It’s the beating heart and laughter. And pancakes.

He thinks of their Buck, who went down a rabbit hole of research to find cool facts for Chris. He can imagine Buck going silent on the phone when he reads about a number named Shannon, and his voice softening as he tells Chris. Comforting his (gun to head Eddie wouldn’t be able to tell if ‘his’ refers to him or Buck) son. Making sure Shannon’s memory lives on.

Chris gently untangles himself from the hug. “You know where Shannon grew up?”

“In El Paso,” Eddie answers on muscle memory, startled from his thoughts, jarred enough not to lock the door two turns like he usually would.

“Not mom, Dad,” he laughs. “I meant the Shannon, the mathematician.”

Eddie is still reeling from the previous conversation. “Uhh, no? Should I know? Have I been there?”

Chris snorts loudly. “Answer that, only you can,” he imitates Yoda, with scary accuracy.

“What?”

“Ugh… Never mind, Dad,” Chris feigns annoyance.

Well, Eddie has to know now. “Chris! Where was Shannon, the mathematician, from?”

Chris looks him dead in the eyes. “Michigan.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“Maybe you should ask Buck,” Chris all but trills.

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Well, Buck is basically, partially, halfway there, so maybe he knows.”

“Chris, you’re not making any sense, buddy,” Eddie lamented.

“Good,” he says like the little evil genius he is. Then, after a beat, he adds. “I’m glad you didn’t name me Margarita.”

Eddie has genuinely never been more confused in his life. “Why would we name you Margarita?”

“Shannon, the mathematician, had a kid named Margarita,” he shrugs, like this conversation is making perfect sense to him. “I mean, he also had a kid named Robert, but I feel like someone from the 118 already has dibs on naming their kid after Bobby.”

Eddie doesn’t point out that they named him way before he even joined the fire academy, because in this moment, he is truly happy. His kid is talking to him and wants to sleep over at his house. Shannon is watching down at them. And Buck… Buck is taking care of them, his Diaz boys, as he always does.

Later, when Chris has gone to bed, Eddie picks up his phone and finally calls home.

“Hey, Buck,” he greets.

“Did you know there is a ‘Big Buck’ brewery in Michigan?” Buck says instead of greeting back.

“Funny coincidence, Chris was just telling me about a city in Michigan.” Eddie is not completely oblivious, as some people (Hen) might suggest. Thank you very much. “Is that why he told me to ask you about where Shannon, the mathematician, is from?”

“Sure…” he prolongs the e enough to signalize that it’s not the truth.

“Buck,” he uses his best commanding tone.

He hears a shaky breath broken by a small laugh on the other side of the line. “The city is called Gaylord, which Chris found very funny.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. There was some investor or banker or whatever whose surname was Gaylord, and they named the city after him,” Buck explains.

“Why didn’t they rename it?”

“Is it truly that bad to be a Gaylord, Eddie?” Buck asks in mock seriousness.

“No, of course not,” Eddie corrects. “But, I mean, society would probably make fun of you for it, no?”

“Who cares about society. If you’re proud to be a Gaylord, then nothing can stop you,” Buck is still joking, but Eddie’s mind fell down the first turn of the spiral. He’s not a Gaylord. He’s not even gay… Right? So why does he feel like he just got punched by this statement? He feels strangely ashamed for not being proud of something he’s not.

“You know, there was a baker named Grant, who lived in Gaylord,” Buck offers as a joke, which is not really helping, but he appreciates the efforts

“I don’t think I can laugh at that Buck.” He definitely shouldn’t, but can he?

“Right, there was also someone named Buck there.”

Eddie desperately wants to turn the conversation away from people who may or may not have lived or live in Gaylord. “They founded the brewery?” He asks because beer is a safe topic.

“Actually, not sure about that.”

“We should order beer from there, drink it together next movie night we have.”

Buck chokes on something, triggering a violent coughing fit. “Sorry… Are you… Are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “But I do hope so,” he added quietly.

“Yeah, me too,” Buck breathed.

They sit in the silence that follows for a beat. That’s why Buck is his best friend. They don’t have to talk all the time, yet it’s never awkward between them.

“Do you know how to play chess?” Eddie breaks the comfortable silence.

“Kinda? I know the rules, but don’t know any tactics or anything like that. After I talked with Chris, I tried to learn the Sicilian Defense, but got too confused,” Buck admits

“The fucking Sicilian Defense.”

“Don’t have a good experience with it?” Buck chuckles.

“I don’t even know how to play chess, but somehow the Sicilian Defense was the only and last safe topic tonight.”

“How can you not know the rules of chess, Eddie. That’s insane!” Buck exclaims, already sending Eddie a link to download chess.com.

As was expected by all, except for Buck, Eddie is completely sucks at playing chess. Buck tries his best to be patient with him, explaining the movements of different pieces. But with each mistake or repeated question, his composure is tested.

At some point, Buck gave up his whole act of being the tolerant teacher and started mocking and teasing Eddie every chance he got. And Eddie is having more fun than he’s had in months, so he plays up his incompetence, which only leads to more mock irritation from his best friend.

Around 2 AM, Eddie has the thought that ‘best friend’ doesn’t do Buck justice. Because there are regular best friends, who will play chess with you, and then there is Buck, who stays up way past his usual bedtime to annoy you into learning how to play.

No, Buck doesn’t feel like a best friend anymore.

Buck is simply the best.

The next day, Chris goes back to his grandparents’ house, but not before they talk about what happened in LA and agree that he will text, call, and sleep over more often.

Eddie is elated. Who knew a conversation about the Sicilian Defense would bring him so much closer to his son? He still doesn’t like chess, but he loves it all the same.

Weirdly, when he gets back to his house after a full day of Ubering, he wants to play a round.

Sadly, when he calls Buck, he gets a message that the 118 is on their way to an emergency, and he can’t talk.

Eddie shoots back a ‘don’t worry, just wanted to play chess, nothing serious,’ not expecting a response till way later.

The response comes over immediately, though, a reminder that he has an app, where he can play with other people.

And look, Eddie is aware that the times are changing, but they are changing a bit too quickly for his liking. One thing is having a phone to call or the internet to search. Another is playing a game against virtual strangers. Who says that they won’t steal all his data or hack into his camera? No way, José. He’s not risking it. Where is the supervision for talking to strangers when you need one?

He texts as much to Buck. Who just responds ‘park’ and ‘brb.’ Meaning they probably arrived at the scene they were going to, and now Eddie can’t expect a response till late at night.

Not sure what Buck meant by ‘park’, he Googles what the connection is. (See, he’s not a complete technophobe.)

What he finds is that there are parks that have public chess tables, where anyone can play, and there’s one right near his house.

Since he’s got nothing better to do with his afternoon, Eddie decides to give it a try.

And honestly? He enjoys it so much.

That’s why, three days later, when he has a free afternoon again, he goes to the park to play some more. Then, another two days later again, and again, so on and so forth. So much so that it becomes a habit.

A habit he gets so used to that his days start to look like those gymbro signs.

Uber drive. Chess in the park. Dinner with Chris. Call with Buck. Rinse. Repeat.

His only distraction these days is the increasingly insistent thought of wanting to rinse the day off with Buck present. It started as small, inconspicuous moments when Eddie wished Buck were here, which he brushed off as his usual missing Buck. But then they became more frequent and, worst of all, more steamy. So much so that he now can’t take a shower without yearning -no, not yearning, he’s not at that stage yet- without thinking about Buck and how nice it would be to feel his hands on his body and in his hair. The door in his mind is no longer made from robust steel, but from wood. Morning wood, if Eddie’s dreams have anything to say about it.

So now his routine looks more like this.

(Re)Press his dick. Uber drive. Chess in the park. Dinner with Chris. Call with Buck. Rinse. Think about Buck. Rinse some more. Repeat.

Someone put that on a t-shirt.

During his second week visiting the park, he meets Fluffy, which in Eddie’s humble opinion is a name only suitable for a dog, but somehow the dude pulls it off.

Fluffy is a young dude, completely stoned every time Eddie sees him, but still a really good chess player. He’s always in these crazy clothes that Eddie is not sure if they're his actual style or if he’s in some kind of a costume. But he’s not in the business of pissing on other people’s parade.

Fluffy was the one to sit across from Eddie the first time they met, but after an afternoon of good chess and a conversation that had Eddie in stitches from the offhand funny comments, he finds himself looking for Fluffy every time he goes to play chess.

They became some kind of friends after a while. Eddie feels like he can say anything, and the dude will abide it. Maybe he doesn’t care, maybe he’s too stoned, maybe Eddie isn’t that bad. Or maybe if Frank smoked some weed, Eddie would be more comfortable with sharing.

He still plays against Buck over calls. He explains the new strategies and tactics he learned and tries to teach them to Eddie. It’s nice doing something together again. It’s like they’re partners again. He tries to ignore what it means. But he’s locking the door with less vigor, because nothing feels as good as sharing something with Buck.

Chris comes to dinner almost every day. They talk every time, and Eddie feels lighter. He also sleeps over almost every weekend.

“Dad, can I tell you something?” He asks during a card game one evening after dinner.

Eddie’s mind flashes with every possible scenario. It could be a new fun fact. It could be that Chris never wants to see him again… It’s probably not that. They have been making progress, Eddie hopes. “Of course, you can tell me anything, buddy,” he assures.

“I don’t like the chess club,” Chris says quietly, placing a card on the throw-away deck.

“Okay… Did something happen?” Eddie asks tentatively. He may have an idea of what happened, ballroom dancing comes to mind, but he doesn’t want to assume.

“Not really, I just don’t like chess that much,” he admits.

“That’s okay, mijo. You don’t have to continue if you don’t like it,” Eddie says as he mindlessly shuffles the cards in his hands.

Chris looks down at his cards, shaking slightly from the firm -too firm- grip he has on them. “Grandpa says I have to learn perse… persevereance.”

Eddie’s face falls before he can control it, he’s been exactly there, and he’s mad at himself for letting it happen again, to his son, nonetheless.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond, as Chris notices his expression. “Are you disappointed, Dad?”

“No. Chris, I could never be disappointed by you. You’re the most amazing kid, and you’re allowed to stop doing things you don’t enjoy,” he reaches out for Christopher’s hand. “I’m disappointed in myself that I let this happen to you, and maybe a bit sad that we won’t get to play, because I’ve been learning,” he tries to lighten the mood.

Chris quickly wipes his eyes, “Thanks, Dad, and sorry.”

“No, hey…” He puts down his cards and makes direct eye contact to really drive his point across. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Okay,” Chris nods. “Did you actually learn how to play chess?”

“I mean, I’m not a master or anything, but I can hold my own,” Eddie answers.

The grin on his son’s face sends a warning alarm through his mind. It’s the same one he uses when he has a plan on how to get more TV time. “So the club was promoting this chess tournament,” he blinks innocently. “And I already signed up, but since you said I don’t have to play anymore, the fee would fall through,” he looks up at him with the biggest puppy eyes he can muster. “Unless…You know, since you know how to play.”

“You want me to take your place at a tournament?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

“The sign-up does already say Diaz, so no problem there.”

“Chris, I don’t know… People would probably notice if it’s a bunch of teenagers and then me.” Eddie wants it noted that he did try to back out of it.

“Oh no, it’s open to people of all ages, so again, no problem there,” Chris assures him.

“But I only started learning a little while ago,” Eddie tries one last thing.

“You’ll do great, Dad.” Chris again provides very solid arguments, leaving Eddie with no reason not to attend. “By the way, your cards lowkey spell out Buck’s name.”

Eddie looks down at where he placed his cards a moment ago. 8JQK. He almost asks Chris if he’s been smoking something with Fluffy, but lowkey? Lwky, the cards do spell out Buck.

He doesn’t want Chris to feel pressured into the tournament, and he desperately wants to leave the topic of Buck being in his cards, so he ultimately agrees, which hammers the last nail in the coffin.

That is how Eddie found himself standing in the middle of a circus the next weekend. Chris conveniently left that part out because Eddie would probably just pay the fee himself.

Instead, he’s standing here like a trained monkey repeating to himself ‘Eddie Diaz does not panic’ over and over to calm his body and not puke from nerves in the middle of a fucking circus.

Outside, Chris ran off at least a dozen times to pet the animals in different cages, prompting him to ask the keepers about the poor animals' living conditions. They assured him that this is an ethical circus. From the look on his face, Eddie could tell Chris didn’t believe them, and frankly, neither did he.

But before he could spiral about the morality of participating in an event held in a place like this, he was ushered inside.

The main tent had a circular floor plan transformed to hold many small tables, all already set up with chess pieces and clocks.

He went to the administration clerk, who gave him the table number he’ll be competing at in the first round.

“You got this, Dad,” Chris told him confidently, before hugging him and leaving to sit down on the bleachers available for observers.

Eddie takes a steadying breath, looking around for a final time, maybe he can spot something so vehemently wrong that could justify him leaving.

Sadly, he finds none of those, except for minor fire code violations. So he smiles one last time at Chris, squashing down his nerves, and takes a seat at table number 317. He stares at the number for a minute. He gets it, okay? The universe doesn’t scream, but it for sure meddles in Eddie’s life.

The seats at the tables begin to fill out, each and every one, except for the one across from him. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he secretly wishes Buck would walk in and take a seat, be the other guy, across from him.

Obviously, that’s not what happened.

Instead, right as the announcer is about to start, Fluffy walks in dressed as a fucking dog. Eddie has to bite his cheek not to blurt out something along the lines of “Really living up to the name?” It has to be a costume, Eddie decides, taking note of the brown onesie, that admittedly does look very comfortable, and the headband with two unmistakably dog ears. Even his nose is painted on.

“Oh, hello, Eddie, my old friend, I’ve come to play with you again,” Fluffy greets.

“Did a vision softly creeping leave its seeds while you were sleeping?” Eddie retorts, happy he finally understood a reference from someone younger than him.

“What?” Fluffy gives him an utterly confused look, like Eddie’s the one smoking something.

“It’s Simon and Garfun-, you know what, never mind,” Eddie decides it’s not worth explaining the reference. “You ready to play?” He asks instead.

Fluffy doesn’t seem to mind the lack of explanation. “Yep, did your husband come to cheer you on, or is he back in LA?”

His husband?!

Eddie doesn’t have a husband.

He also doesn’t have a husband in LA.

He has a Buck in LA. A Buck, who is not his husband.

Before he can say as much to Fluffy, the tones go off to signalize the start, and more importantly, no talking.

Fluffy has the white, so he starts, and from the moment he places a pawn to e4, Eddie knows where this is going, but he’s helpless against it.

The dog pulls off the Sicilian Defense, because of course he does, but all Eddie can think about is ‘your husband’.

His husband.

My husband, Buck. Is what his mind settles on.

And Eddie is spiraling. He actually kind of likes it. The thought of calling Buck his husband washes over him. Eddie can’t tell if it’s washing him further down the spiral, or trying to keep him afloat.

Suddenly, there’s a big crash. Everyone in the tent looks the way the noise went from.

There is a second, then two of complete silence, before an elephant marches onto the floor.

Everybody starts screaming and panicking, pushing each other to get out first. Which only makes the elephant more agitated, yet there are no people who would at least look like they know what to do with a live fucking elephant.

Eddie knows he should be scared, but all he can think is that he wishes Buck were here to see this. He wishes Buck were here to help him deal with it. Together.

Oh.

Oh.

In his last attempt to stop this feeling, Eddie looks back at the door in his mind, expecting durable steel or solid wood. Instead, he finds the door turned to glass, and he can clearly see everything he’s missing by not turning the key.

Edmundo ‘Eddie’ Diaz is losing a chess match to a dog, an elephant is staring at him, and the worst part of all this is that it’s all his fault. Well, not all. Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley definitely played a part.

He acts before he can think better of it.

He tries to tame the elephant.

He remembers Buck telling him that elephants are highly intelligent and empathetic.

So he stands before it and makes, what he hopes are calming moves with his hands as he approaches the animal.

“I just realized I’m gay and in love with my best friend,” he reaches his hand to touch the elephant's trunk. “That’s right, he’s not my husband, he’s my best friend,” he tells the man dressed as a dog, before focusing back on the elephant. “But he’s so much more. He’s so easy to love, and he sees me like no one ever did or ever will. He’s my best friend, but he saved my kid’s life, and he saved my life, and so many others, because he’s just the most selfless, bravest person I’ve ever met. He has these deep blue eyes that you can get lost in so easily, and his chest, and his cheeks, he is just so beautiful, there’s no way around it. And let me tell you, when he laughs, it lights up the room, any room. God, he’s so funny. And he makes the best pancakes, you need to try one,” he knows he’s rambling, but once the door is open, Eddie can’t stop. “I love him so much, and I think he might love me back,” he hears the hope in his voice. “So, you need to calm down, so that I can survive and get back to him, and kiss him, have a shower with him, and possibly try to get him pregnant. But you need to chill and get back,” he tells the elephant.

The elephant gives him a once-over, like he’s judging Eddie’s words and his entire character as a person, evaluating if he’s worthy of the things he wants.

By some miracle, Eddie must’ve passed the elephant's judgment, because he dips his head like he’s giving Eddie a nod of approval, even taps the tip of his trunk to Eddie’s forehead like a blessing.

Eddie definitely feels blessed.

Especially, since the elephant slowly turns around and walks back to where it came from.

There is a beat of silence, then the crowd of people still left in the tent erupts into applause.

It just hits Eddie that he did, and said all of this in front of people. Eddie expects to panic, even braces for it, but nothing comes of it. He feels… Normal. Maybe a bit lighter, but definitely normal.

In the end, the chess tournament is canceled, with apologies from the organizers, and promises to report the circus.

“Hey, man,” a slow, drawn-out voice says behind him.

Eddie turns around to find Fluffy there. “Hey.”

“I’m like so proud of you,” he says, extending his hand to Eddie. “Don’t know if you could’ve beaten me at chess, but you definitely won in my heart.”

Eddie blinks a few times, then meets Fluffy’s hand for a handshake. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly.

Fluffy nods and leaves. God, Eddie doesn’t want to play chess ever again.

He shakes his head to clear it a bit and focuses on finding Chris, who he finds standing outside the tent. He runs up to him, dropping to his knees to hug him.

“Hi, mijo. Are you okay?”

Chris murmurs that he’s fine into the hug, before extracting himself to look at Eddie. “So I hear you know where Shannon, the mathematician, is from,” he says innocently.

Eddie’s face scrunches up in confusion, but it unwists as he remembers the conversation from a few weeks ago. “Is that okay?” he asks tentatively. “I swear I won’t rename you to Margarita,” he jokes.

“Yeah, Dad. I’m happy for you,” Chris chuckles. “Although you could have left out the shower and pregnancy part. I’m going to have nightmares about pregnant Buck now,” he shakes his head like he’s trying to exorcise the image from his head.

“You heard that?” Eddie asks, completely mortified, at some point the speech got away from him, and he was saying everything he could remember, including the fleeting thought of pregnant Buck, he had after the first dinner with Chris and his parents.

“The whole tent did,” Chris affirms in a teasing tone.

“Oh God,” Eddie finally feels the panic he was awaiting.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, mijo?”

“Can we go back home now?”

“Of course, I can basically hear the couch calling my name.”

Chris shakes his head slightly. “I meant to LA.”

Eddie’s eyes fill up with tears. “Of course, the couch calling my name is probably the one there,” he laughs wetly.

It feels strange to ring the bell at South Bedford. Eddie still has a key, of course, but no matter how much he can’t wait to surprise Buck, he doesn’t want to give him a heart attack.

Buck opens the door, his eyes widening comically when he sees his Diaz boys. He stands in the door, wearing a comfy-looking hoodie and sweats, hair mussed going in all directions, like he got woken up from a nap. He gapes at them for a solid minute, blinking repeatedly, as if to figure out if he actually woke up, or if he’s still dreaming.

Chris finally breaks the silence, rescuing Buck from wherever his mind went. “Hey, Buck,” he says casually.

Buck blinks one more time, then immediately crushes Chris in the biggest bear hug. Softly running his hand through Chris’s curls and murmuring ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’ repeatedly.

Then he looks to Eddie. “You’re really back?” he asks, scared, maybe just unbelieving, still not letting Chris go.

“For good!” Eddie cheers.

“What happened?” he asks as Chris finally squirms away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I played chess with a dog, I tamed an elephant, so you know, it seemed like a good time as any to get back.”

“I’m sorry, you what?!” Buck asks incredulously.

“Buck…” Eddie says softly.

“Yeah?”

“I tamed an elephant,” he says even softer, and so much more emotionally.

“I’m so lost,” Buck admits quietly, like he understands there is a deeper meaning behind Eddie’s words, but can’t figure out the connections.

“It’s a metaphor, Buck,” Chris chirps, before turning on his heels and heading into the house like it was only yesterday that he left.

Buck moves to go after Chris, but Eddie holds him by the shoulder, a move so familiar.

“Evan… I tamed the elephant,” he nods like an assurance, whether it’s for him or Buck, he doesn’t know.

Buck blinks at him, his eyes also grow a bit glassy. There’s still confusion in them from not understanding the literal words being said to him, but something in Eddie’s voice, the raw emotion, makes his eyes well up with, oh so hopeful tears.

Eddie takes the last step, separating him from Buck. His hand stays on one of Buck’s shoulders, his thumb ghosting over Buck’s pulse point. Their bodies are touching from knees to chests.

He can feel Buck’s breath on his cheeks and hopes his breath feels just as maddening on Buck’s rosy ones.

Buck stays exactly where he is, his eyes roaming over Eddie’s face, more often than not dropping to Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie takes it as an encouragement and leans to close the remaining distance, slow enough to give Buck a chance to pull back. But he doesn’t, just like Eddie knew he wouldn’t.

They close their eyes at the last possible moment to watch each other for as long as they can.

Their lips meet softly.

Eddie wins the match… Hell, he wins the whole tournament. Riding out of there victorious on the fucking elephant.

Kissing Buck for the first time feels like executing the Sicilian Defense perfectly. He can feel the fireworks celebrating the moment.

Eddie knows in that moment, what he thought for some time, even if he didn’t admit it, this is his last first kiss ever.

It’s short-lived, but so gentle and kind and perfect.

Buck pulls back. Takes a breath, then a second, then a third.

“Eddie…” he manages to get out, breathlessly. “You just kissed me,” he whispers, a smile growing on his face.

“Well, someone once told that if you’re a proud gaylord, nothing can stop you,” Eddie chuckles.

Buck groans at his joke, then he reels back like his mind properly processed what Eddie said, beyond a bad joke. “You.. You’re gay?” He breaths out.

He nods slowly, maintaining eye contact. “Yeah, I’m gay… I told the elephant, and he seemed to understand that I needed to get to you, so he left, and everything,” Eddie gestures vaguely.

“He left because he, just like I, got traumatized by images of pregnant Buck you implanted in our heads,” Chris shouts from inside the house.

Buck chokes on air at that sentence, and the rosy tint on his cheeks becomes a full-body red flush, which Eddie finds incredibly adorable. “Preg- Eddie, what did you tell the elephant, and why did Chris hear that?” Buck manages to get out, choked up.

Based on the heat in his face, Eddie is not that far behind Buck with the flustered red tint. He rubs his neck nervously. “Y-Yeah, remember the chess tournament I told you about? It was at a circus, and an elephant barged in, and the only thought I had was I wished you were there with me… So I speed-ran a conclusion to a sexuality crisis, which was kinda, definitely happening before, but I ignored until then,” his voice shaking slightly as he explains. “And I told the elephant about how much I love you, and at some point I started rambling -as I’m doing now- and I basically spilled every thought I had about you, right?”

“Eddie,” Buck tries to jump in.

“And at the dinner with my parents, they said some shit about you, and it reminded me of how they forbade me from seeing my best friend growing up,” Eddie continues undeterred, but has to take a breath.

“Eddie,” Buck tries to interrupt again.

But Eddie has to get it all out before he never speaks a word of it again. “So last time they tried that, I got Chris out of it, right? So it just led me to think, at least you wouldn’t get pregnant… Which might have led me to think about you and me trying… you know…” Eddie stumbles with his words.

“Eddie,” Buck says again, still as softly as before, but with just a little bit more heat behind his words.

“And really, that was the start of the whole gay crisis,” Eddie finally finishes and looks up at Buck.

Buck is red from head to toe. He looks a bit, or more than a bit, flustered. There is something like lust in his features as well. But his eyes… His eyes are full of the softest kind of bewilderment. “Eddie…” he inches closer, deleting the space Eddie accidentally created during his rambling. “Did you just say you love me?”

“Yeah, fuck… I wanted to say it at a better moment, but yeah,” Eddie looks directly into Buck’s eyes. “Buck, I love you completely. I love every individual particle that makes you who you are, and I love you as a whole, your person, your character, your experiences. I love you completely and utterly.”

He hopes Buck understands. Every ounce of love.

A tear slips from Buck’s eye, quickly followed by another. “I love you too, Eddie. I love you so much.”

No matter how much Eddie believed that to be true, hearing it in real time is indescribable. It washes over him and settles over his shoulders like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Buck dips his head low, finding Eddie’s mouth easily.

Their lips slot together like two puzzle pieces. Made for each other.

It’s Earth-shattering and stable, it’s passionate, yet adorable at the same time.

Their second is somehow even better than the first. Their mouths move against each other without hurry, like they’re exploring each other.

Eddie’s hand moves from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his head, where he can card it gently through his curls. Buck makes a soft sound at a particular tug, opening his mouth slightly more, and Eddie wastes no time exploring the newly available space with his tongue as well. And Buck is there to meet him. They’re moving together, just like always.

“The first chess game played between space and Earth was in 1970 by the Soyuz-9 crew. That’s how far I want to be from you right now,” Chris says from the door.

They separate enough to see Chris roll his eyes and heads back inside.

“A fun fact about space is probably the closest we’re going to get to a blessing from a teenager,” Eddie whispers to Buck.

Who laughs at his joke and dips his head down to meet Eddie’s mouth once more.

Eddie’s kissing Buck, and nothing can stop him, not even a Sicilian Defense playing dog, or an elephant.