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Eddie knows Buck is nervous, because he's been checking the same zipper on Theo’s little backpack for almost three minutes now.
The apartment smells like toasted waffles, coffee and the faint sweetness of Theo’s strawberry toothpaste. .
Eddie let himself into Buck’s place because the guy in question texted him at seven thirty in the morning with a barely coherent string of words about needing to go to the mall for shoes, and because Theo refuses pants with buttons.
Theo is on the rug in front of the couch, wearing one sock with dinosaurs and one sock with fire trucks because Buck had apparently chosen to die on that particular hill this morning, seemingly not having the nerve to argue with a four year old about the colour scheme of socks.
Eddie watches him check the backpack again.
“Buck. we’re going to the mall, not crossing state lines.”
Buck’s head snaps up too quickly.
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Buck looks down at the bag again, thumb brushing over the zipper seam, then back to him
“I just don’t know if he’ll need something,” he says, his eyes flicking toward Theo and then away again “Crowds are a lot. Sometimes he gets hungry and then he doesn’t know he’s hungry and then he just kind of melts down, and— ”
Eddie steps closer without thinking, and reaches out slowly, giving Buck every chance to pull away before he lays his hand over his restless fingers and stills them against the zipper.
Buck goes very quiet.
“You packed enough,” Eddie says.
Buck’s mouth twitches,
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
That makes Buck look at him.
…
His eyes are tired.
“He still calls me Buck,”
Six months, Eddie remembers. Theo has been with him for six months now.
Buck keeps staring at the backpack between them.
“Which is fine. It’s good, actually. I mean, that’s my name, and I’m not trying to make him call me anything else, obviously, because he had parents, Eddie, and I’m not trying to step into that like I can just take that away—.”
Eddie’s chest aches.
“You’re not taking anything,”
Buck huffs humorless.
“I know that... I just don’t want him to feel like he has to make me feel better, you know? He’s four. He’s grieving and I’m not going to make my issues his problem.”
“Buck.”
“He reaches for me at night you know… When he has nightmares, he reaches for me, and sometimes he forgets where he is for a second, and I don’t know how to—”
He cuts himself off, breathing hard through his nose.
…
Buck looks ashamed of the words somehow… like he has confessed something selfish instead of something devastating.
“I’m just trying to do right by him,” he whispers. “He had a whole life before me.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to erase them.”
“You won’t, Buck”
Buck finally pulls his hand back.
…
Across the room, Theo gasps dramatically.
“Buck!” he calls, turning around with wide eyes and a plastic giraffe clutched in both hands. “Milo needs ice cream or he’s gonna be sad forever.”
Buck looks at Eddie for one more second, and then the moment breaks because Theo is four and giraffes apparently have emotional needs.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat as he crouches down and opens his arms when Theo comes barreling toward him, “we can’t let that happen now, can we?”
Theo crashes into him, and Buck catches him automatically, one arm locking around his small back.
Eddie watches Buck become softer and gentle under the impact, watches the fear in him rearrange itself into focus because Theo is in front of him now.
...
Buck's a great dad
And to Eddie that doesn't feel like something new.
—————
The mall fountain splashes in the center court, bright coins glittering under the shallow water, and somewhere above them music plays from hidden speakers.
Buck holds Theo’s Hand while Eddie walks on his other side, the four year old walking directly between them.
Strangers glance at them as they walk through the shops.
Eddie catches it twice, maybe three times, the quick assumption in other people’s eyes. A woman smiling at Theo and then looking between Buck and Eddie like they're his parents.
He should correct it, at least inside his own head… But he doesn't.
It feels... right somehow.
...
Buck crouches in front of Theo outside the toy store when his lower lip starts trembling because the stuffed dragon in the window is apparently “lonely” and “needs a house,” and Eddie watches Buck explain, patient and serious at the same time, that they aren't buying the dragon today because the it's very comfortable with his cloud Friends.
…
“Can I have ice cream then?”
Buck’s mouth twitches.
“I think,” he says carefully, “that you're trying to use the innocent dragon to get ice cream.”
Theo looks offended and Eddie almost laughs.
Buck does laugh, soft and warm, which then causes Theo ot starts laughing as well.
Eddie stands there beside them with his hands in his pockets and the strange, aching sense that he' s looking at something he wants to belong to...
He's not jealous of Theo per say.
…
It's jealousy of the space itself.
Of the fact that Buck is building a home with this child out of grief and bedtime stories, and Eddie is trusted with so much of it, but still has no name for what his role is.
Uncle Eddie?
Best friend?
Emergency contact?
Buck looks up then, as if he felt Eddie watching, their eyes meeting over Theo’s head, and for one breath, the mall blurs around them.
...
Then Theo tugs Buck’s sleeve with both hands and announces , that the dragon told him through the window that ice cream would help.
“Okay,” Buck says as he smiles back down at him “Ice cream.”
The ice cream place is across the open center court, near the fountain and Theo is tired enough by then that Eddie can see it in the slight drag of his steps.
“I’ll stay with him,” He says automatically, before Buck even has the chance to ask.
Buck hesitates but Theo solves it by climbing onto the bench beside Eddie and starts leaning against his side.
“I want sprinkles,” he says.
Buck’s face softens.
“Rainbow or chocolate?”
“Both.”
“Bold choice.”
He looks at Eddie again, and gives him a small nod, then walks of.
…
“Buck walks fast,” Theo says.
“He does.”
“Because he’s big.”
“That’s probably it.”
Theo thinks about that for a moment, then looks up at Eddie again.
“Chris walks fast too. Even with the stickies.”
Eddie’s heart pinches.
“Yeah,” he says, smiling because Christopher does walk fast when he wants something, not even his crutches being able to hold him back. “He does.”
…
And the thing is, he knows where some of that comes from.
Chris has always been his own person, but there are pieces of Buck in him now too.
Small golden pieces Eddie keeps noticing at the strangest times, in the way Christopher laughs and loves loudly.
Buck did that.
Alongside him, woven into the life he built for his son and the realization settles warm beneath his ribs.
Theo leans a little heavier against his side, still watching Buck across the open space, and Eddie lets his hand rest gently over the child’s shoulder while Buck stands at the ice cream counter, smiling politely at the teenager behind the glass.
“He gets that from Buck too sometimes,”
Theo looks up at him, curious.
“Walking fast?”
Eddie’s smile pulls wider.
“Yeah,” he says, eyes still on Buck. “That too.”
…
—————
It's small at first.
A raised voice, too sharp to belong to ordinary mall noise…Then another voice answering, lower and strained.
Eddie’s gaze flicks toward it, some old part of him noticing the change in the air.
Across the center court, Buck hears it too. He turns his head slightly, enough that Eddie knows he's listening.
A security guard near the escalators starts walking faster and his hand settles more firmly over Theo’s shoulder.
Somethings Happening.
“Eddie?” Theo asks, looking up at him.
“It’s okay,” he answeres automatically, even though he doesn't really know if thats true.
Then someone shouts.
The sound tears through the noise of the mall loud enough that people turn toward it, and this time it's not just frustration or someone having a bad day.
Something crashes and metal shrieks somewhere to Eddie’s left, a security gate slamming half-down over a storefront, and a woman screams with real fear.
Eddie’s body moves before his thoughts catch up as his arm wraps around Theo.
Theo stiffens.
“What—”
“Stay with me,” Eddie says immediately, pulling him off the bench and into his lap. “Theo, look at me.”
People are moving wrong now.
Ducking, backing up, freezing in place with hands half-raised, clutching Children and bumping into each other with that terrible herd panic Eddie knows too well.
A man steps into the open center court with a gun in his Hand and Eddie’s blood goes cold as everything sharpens.
The man is maybe in his late thirties, face flushed red with rage, a dark hoodie hanging open over a shirt with a store logo Eddie recognizes from the electronics place near the escalators.
He's waving the gun too much, too erratically, not steady like someone trained or calm like someone with a plan.
Shit.
That makes him unpredictable.
“I said nobody moves!” the man screams, voice cracking across the open space as people freeze harder around him. “Where is he? Where the hell is he?”
Theo whimpers and Eddie pulls him against his chest, one hand cupping the back of his head, trying to turn his face into his shoulder.
“Eddie,” Theo whispers, small fingers grabbing his shirt.
“I’ve got you,” he says, trying to Keep his voice as calm as possible. “You stay with me, okay? You look at me.”
…
The second he sees Theo nod, his gaze springs up, searching.
He finds him across the court.
Buck stopped halfway between the ice cream counter and the benches, two cups in a cardboard tray in one Hand, his other hand half-lifted.
For one terrible second, they see each other and the distance between them looks impossibly wide.
Buck’s eyes drop to Theo and the way Eddie has him tucked close. Then to the gunman standing too near the path between them, and Eddie sees the exact moment Buck makes a decision.
No.
No, Buck, don’t.
Buck sets the ice cream down slowly on the nearest table and lifts both hands.
“Hey,” he calls, “Hey, okay. Nobody’s moving. We’re listening.”
The gunman whips toward him and Eddie’s hand tightens against Theo’s head.
Buck keeps his hands visible, palms open, and Eddie hates him for knowing how to do this.
He hates him for being good at it and for turning himself into the calmest thing in the room.
“You work here?” the man snaps.
“No,” Buck says. “No, I don’t. I’m just saying everyone’s scared, okay? You want someone to listen, right? I can listen.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
“I said shut up!”
Buck closes his mouth and Eddie can see his throat move as he swallows.
Theo twists against his hold.
“Buck?”
Eddie bends his head, pressing his mouth close to Theo’s hair.
“Theo, stay quiet for me.”
“Buck’s over there.”
“I know.”
“Why is the man yelling?”
Eddie can't answer that.
The man has a gun, because Buck is trying to make himself the target, he thinks.
I am too far away, because I have you in my arms and if I move wrong I could get you killed, because every part of me is screaming to go to him and I can't.
…
The gunman is pacing now, shouting for a manager, for someone named Greg. Someone who apparently ruined his life, lied to corporate and laughed when he got fired.
Buck nods like he understands.
“That sounds awful. Okay, tell me. I hear you,”
Eddie can barely breathe because Buck is inching the man’s attention away from the families pressed under tables…
Away from Theo.
and...
Toward himself.
The gunman notices.
Maybe some part of him realizes Buck is trying to manage him, or maybe the sight of Buck’s calm simply offends the chaos inside his head, because he closes the distance between them so fast that Buck barely has time to step back before the man grabs the front of his shirt and slams him sideways into the edge of a table.
Theo jolts in Eddie’s arms.
Buck grunts, one hand catching the table.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” the gunman spits.
“I’m not,” Buck says quickly, “I’m not, I swear, I’m just—”
The gun hits him across the mouth and Eddie feels his body try to rise.
It's not really a conscious choice.
His knees move under him, muscles loading before thought, and then Theo makes a tiny broken sound against his chest and he stops so abruptly it hurts.
…
Buck stagger and catches himself, blood bright at the corner of his mouth.
The gunman shoves him down and Buck lands on his knees on the tile.
No... Please no
Buck!
The gun presses to his temple.
The mall disappears as Buck’s eyess flick toward him.
Just long enough to say don’t.
Eddie’s jaw locks so hard pain flashes near his ear.
…
Theo is shaking now.
“Buck,”
Eddie tries to turn him away again.
“Look at me, Theo.”
“No.”
“Theo.”
“No, Buck—”
“Buddy, listen to me.”
But Theo sees the gun and Eddie feels the exact second the child understands enough.
Not all of it, but he understands that Buck is on the ground and that the man is hurting him.
He understands that people with guns make people go away and not come back.
…
Theo’s body goes from shaking to fighting in Eddie’s arms, with pure terrified Need as his little hands push against his chest.
“No,” Theo sobs, voice rising. “No, please, no—”
Eddie tightens his arms, panic flashing hot through him.
“Theo, quiet, you have to be quiet.”
Buck hears him.
Even from across the room, even with a gun at his head, he hears Theo, and Eddie sees agony tear across his face before he forces it back under control.
“Hey,” Buck says to the gunman, voice shaking but still working… still trying. “Hey, look at me. You wanted me to listen, right? I’m listening. Just keep looking at me.”
“Shut that kid up!” the gunman screams.
“Don’t look at him,” Buck tries again “Look at me!”
Theo screams.
“No, Dad, please!”
The world stops.
…
Buck goes still.
The gun is still pressed to his head, the man is still shouting, people are still crying, but Buck’s eyes widen like every sound has dropped out of the world except that one word.
Dad.
Theo sobs harder, twisting in Eddie’s arms with his face wet and red and devastated.
“Not again,” he cries, voice breaking around every piece of it. “Don’t kill him, please, don’t kill him!”
Eddie closes his eyes for half a second because he can't bear it before he Forces himself to look toward Buck again.
Buck doesn't seem to hear anything after Dad.
His face has gone slack with shock, his lips parted around a breath, and Eddie wants to scream at him to focus, wants to scream that Theo needs him, that he needs him.
Then he blinks and his gaze jerks toward Theo as much as the gun allows.
The barrel digs harder into his temple when he moves, and he freezes immediately, but his voice comes out anyway.
“It’s okay, buddy. I’m okay. Look at Eddie, okay? Listen to Eddie.”
Theo sobs.
“Dad!”
The gunman snarls something, arm jerking, and everything after that happens too fast.
…
A command cracks through the air from somewhere behind them and black uniforms surge from the side corridor near the security office.
The gunman turns.
Buck uses that to drop sideways and for one awful second the gun disappears between bodies and there is a sound so loud Theo’s scream vanishes beneath it.
Eddie moves then. He twists, shielding Theo with his whole body, pinning the child between his chest and the bench as chaos detonates around them.
Boots pounding, officers shouting and people crying harder now that survival is close enough to become hysteria.
The gun clatters across the tile and the gunman hits the ground under three officers.
Theo is screaming Dad over and over into Eddie’s shirt and Eddie is trying to breathe, trying not to break Theo by holding him too tightly.
Trying to understand whether the loud sound was a shot, a body hitting a table or the end of the world.
…
Then Buck moves. One hand presses against the Floor and his head lifts.
He's alive.
Eddie’s breath leaves him so hard his head starts swimming.
Buck's alive, dazed and pale, one cheek already reddening where it must have struck the tile, but he's alive.
Theo sobs Dad again and Buck’s head snaps toward them.
An officer tries to keep him down but he pushes up anyway.
“Sir, stay where you are.”
“My son,” Buck says, and his voice breaks on it, “That’s my son.”
Eddie feels something inside him fracture quietly.
Buck stumbles toward them, shaking off help with a breathless, frantic apology and Eddie shifts Theo in his arms because he' already reaching.
The second he's close enough, Theo throws himself at him and Buck catches him only to almost go down with the force of it.
Eddie grabs Buck’s elbow on instinct, steadying him but Buck barely seems to notice because his hands are already on Theo, touching his face and hair and shoulders.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, breath coming too fast. “Theo, buddy, look at me. Are you hurt anywhere? Did you hit your head? Can you breathe okay?”
Theo only cries harder and presses both hands to Buck’s face, one tiny palm landing near the place where the gun had been.
Buck goes still under the touch as Theo’s fingers tremble against his temple.
“He hurt you,” Theo sobs.
“I’m okay,” Buck says immediately, even though his voice is shaking and Eddie can feel tremors running through. “I’m okay, buddy, I’m right here.”
“Dad,” Theo cries, broken with exhaustion. “Dad, don’t go.”
Buck’s face crumples as he pulls Theo against his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”
Eddie’s hand is still on Buck’s arm.
He should let go.
…
There are officers around them, paramedics pushing through the crowd now, and Eddie should step back and make room.
Instead, he hears himself say,
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Buck looks at him over Theo’s head.
His eyes are wet, his cheek is flushed red where he hit the tile, and his whole body is wrapped around Theo so tightly that Eddie can see the protective curve of him in every line of his shoulders.
The look he gives Eddie is not defensive... It's just exhausted and parental.
Not now.
Theo makes another small, broken sound against Buck’s chest, and Buck looks down immediately, his attention snapping back to the child in his arms,
Eddie’s anger dies so fast it leaves him hollow. He knows then that it wasn't Anger at Buck... It was terror.
His throat works once, painfully.
“Buck,” he says, quieter this time.
Buck’s eyes flick back up to himm his mouth trembling, before he presses it into Theo’s hair.
“I couldn’t let him look at Theo,” he whispers, so softly Eddie almost misses it. “I couldn’t.”
Eddie’s face crumples,
“I know. I know, I’m sorry.”
His hand tightens around Buck's arm, thumb pressing uselessly against the fabric of his sleeve.
“I’m not angry at you… I just— I had him in my arms and you were over there, and I couldn’t move, Buck. I couldn’t do anything.”
Buck’s expression shifts, something wounded passing through it before Theo makes another tiny sound against his chest and pulls him back down.
Eddie watches them.
He watches Buck’s hand cover the back of Theo’s head, fingers spread wide and protective, while the other arm locks around the child’s small body.
Buck is Theo’s dad.
There is no question anymore, no careful respect for what Theo lost, no fear that wanting the word makes Buck selfish.
Buck is his dad.
…
And Eddie loves him.
The realization hits him in the middle of the mall, with police tape starting to go up near the escalators and Buck’s blood drying dark at the corner of his mouth.
He loves Buck.
He loves the man on his knees with shaking hands and a child pressed to his chest.
And he loves this child too, not in the same way he loves Christopher of course, but fiercely enough that holding him through those screams has changed something in him.
…
He wants in.
Not as the best friend standing conveniently close.
He wants the mornings with dinosaur socks, the backpacks and ice cream negotiations.
Buck shifts, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s chest.
…
When Buck reaches for him he moves in immediately, his hand sliding to Buck’s back first, firm between his shoulder blades, then to the nape of his neck.
Theo, still crying into Buck’s shirt, reaches blindly with one hand and catches Eddie’s sleeve too.
Thats what undoes him.
That tiny hand pulling Eddie into the circle.