Archive of Our Own

Chris is a pretty big fan of his dads figuring things out so far. The last month has been great, aside from Dad and Buck being even more disgusting now than they were before. He’d thought the open pining and obliviousness had been bad, but now that they’re together, they’re nauseating. He’s had to ask them to stop making out in public spaces, especially the kitchen. They eat in there. Chris can’t casually sit and eat cereal before school after walking in on his dads kissing up against the sink the night before. 

It’s actually kind of sweet, he guesses. They’re making up for lost time or something. From Chris’ perspective, Dad’s never been happier. Neither has Buck, at least in the time that Chris has known him. It makes Chris happy to see them so happy.

There’s other perks too, especially now that Buck’s moved in. Blueberry pancakes whenever Chris wants? Someone always there to take his side to pick weird documentaries for movie night? Huge wins. It’s not like Buck hadn’t been at their house all the time already, but having him as an actual permanent fixture is nice. Comforting.

It’s going to be even better when Dad finally proposes and Chris asks Buck to adopt him officially, a plan that’s been taking shape over the past week or so. Dad asked him if he thought it was too fast, and Chris had teased that Dad was right, eight years actually probably wasn’t enough time to figure that out. Dad had rolled his eyes, but Chris knew he was serious about it. Chris has done the research on adoption and printed out the paperwork that same night, and Dad has been texting Chris ring ideas ever since. It was really happening.

And now, along with Buck, Chris has this whole built-in family that he always kind of had before. It’s the same as ever, but it’s also different enough—real enough—to be a million times better. Like today, he gets to go over and hang out with Aunt Maddie and Jee-Yun and baby Nash after school. He gets to have family time waiting for Buck and Dad to get off shift.

He’s playing Super Mario Galaxy for Jee on his Switch (she doesn’t play, but she loves to sit next to him and watch like it’s her own private TV show) when Uncle Chim comes home. Chris pauses his game when he comes through the door, still in his uniform and looking a little harried. Chris looks at the clock on the wall. It’s still a couple hours before their shift is supposed to be over. Weird. Unease starts to creep in.

Chris is no stranger to bad news. He was too young to remember when Dad was in the army and got hurt, but he remembers other things. Tsunamis and shootings and car accidents and lightning strikes and viruses, all things that took people from him. Or tried to, at least. He remembers watching the adults in his life cope with these things, remembers how it felt to look at his dad in a hospital bed, not knowing if Buck would wake up after the lightning, the funerals. And, before any of those things, he remembers the same uneasy feeling he always gets when adults have something to say that they don’t want any kids in the area to hear. It’s the feeling that’s starting to take root in his stomach right now.

Chim stops in his tracks when he sees Chris on the couch.

“Chris!” He sounds surprised. “Forgot you were hanging out here after school today. Where, uh, where’s Maddie?”

“Kitchen,” Chris responds, unpausing his game. He figures it’s probably best if he doesn’t ask any of the questions coming to mind right now. Like why is he home early and why does he look like he’d rather Chris wasn’t in his living room. “She’s feeding Nash and making us a snack.”

“Okay. Great. I’m gonna, um. Go find her quick.” Chim starts towards the kitchen and stops halfway there. “Can you keep Jee in here for a minute?”

“Sure,” Chris says. He tries to focus and keep playing the game, but he’s a little distracted by the whispering going on in the kitchen.

The whispering is probably the worst part.

It didn’t matter much when he was little and didn’t know better, but he’s old enough now to know that when adults whisper like that, it’s because there’s something bad happening that they don’t want the kids within earshot to know.

It’s probably fine.

He keeps playing and Jee squeals when he collects a couple stars and it all feels way too normal for the whisper conversation that’s happening in the other room.

It’s probably fine and nothing’s wrong.

The whispering stops and Chris hears Maddie and Chim come back into the living room.

“Jee,” Maddie says from behind the couch. “Why don’t you go play in your room for a minute?”

“But Chris is about to finish this level!” Jee whines.

“We’ll finish later, I just–” Maddie cuts herself off and clears her throat. “I just need to talk to Chris. Two minutes, promise.”

Chris doubts it’ll be two minutes, but whatever. Sure. Might be for the best to let her think that.

Jee huffs and stomps off to her room.

Maddie has Nash on her hip when she comes around the couch and sits across from Chris. Chim hovers awkwardly behind her.

There’s a long pause.

Chris just wants to get this over with. “So is it Dad or Buck?”

Maddie blinks. “What?”

“Is it Dad or Buck?” Chris repeats. Chim and Maddie share a look. “Come on, it’s not hard to figure out. Something bad happened, that’s why Chimney is home early and you were just whisper-fighting in the kitchen. You’re sitting me down to tell me something, so whatever happened probably didn’t happen to Hen or Ravi or Harry, so. Dad or Buck?”

“It’s–” Chim starts and then stops himself. He moves and sits next to Chris and okay, maybe he was a little flippant before but now he’s starting to feel freaked out. “It’s both of them, Chris.”

Everything stops. Chris hears the blood rushing in his ears, he feels a little nauseous. He’d been prepared for one or the other, he was as ready as any fifteen-year-old could be to go to the hospital and see one of his parents laid up and connected to machines, but that only extended to one of them. Because the other one would be there to hug Chris and tell him everything was going to be okay and make sure he’s taken care of while the other one is out of commission. That’s how this works. It doesn’t work if it’s both of them, that can’t be right, there has to be some kind of mistake.

“Both of them?” It suddenly feels like everything is happening to some kind of alternate-reality version of himself, like he’s watching it happen to someone else instead of experiencing it firsthand.

“There was a structure fire this morning, we were putting it out without any trouble, but there were people trapped inside. We got everyone out, but none of us realized there was damage to the building. Your dad and Buck were inside when it collapsed.”

Chris blinks back tears. “Just them?”

“Apparently,” Maddie responds, “there were some people that needed some extra help getting out so they stayed behind when the rest of the crew left. They got those people out right before–” her voice catches, and Chim doesn’t jump in to finish her sentence.

Before the building came down on top of them? Before his stupid Dad and his stupid Buck got smashed to pieces because they had to be heroes?

“Did you get them out?” Chris’ voice shakes when he asks the question.

“We did,” Chim is quick to reply. “Got them out as quick as we could. They’re both at the hospital now.”

Chris reaches for his crutches and starts to stand up. “Okay, let’s go. We have to go,” he says, looking back and forth between Maddie and Chim, who are doing that annoying thing adults do where they have an entire conversation with their eyes like the kids in the room can’t see it. “Why can’t we go?”

“We can,” Chim says cautiously. “But they’re in really bad shape, kid.”

As if Chris hadn’t been in the hospital room after Dad was shot. As if Chris doesn’t remember begging Buck to just come back when he was in a coma.

“And?” he asks, frustrated tears starting to spill down his cheeks. He hates that. It makes him feel like a baby. “It’s my dad. It’s Buck. Who else is there right now? We can’t leave them alone.”

Chris stands there while silence stretches between the three of them. What are they not telling him? Why aren’t they rushing to go back to the hospital? He’s not a little kid, he can handle his parents being hurt, he just needs to be there.

“He’s right,” Maddie says finally. She hands the baby to Chim. “I’ll take him.”

“Maddie–” Chim starts, but Maddie cuts him off, standing and putting her arm around Chris’ shoulders.

“No, sorry, you and I both know I was gonna go anyway, and Chris can come with me. I’m not gonna make him sit here and wonder, that’s not fair.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here with the kids,” Chim agrees after a beat. He looks at Maddie. “But you know that there’s a chance that–”

“I know.” Maddie nods. “And I’ll explain it to Chris on the way, but he deserves to be there.”

Dread spreads through Chris’ chest. “A chance of what?”

Maddie’s arm tightens around Chris’ shoulders.

“There’s a chance,” Chim says, holding eye contact with Chris, “that one or both of them might not make it. The doctors are working on it and doing everything they can, but we don’t know right now.”

“We have to go now,” Chris says. He’s so serious about this. The only thing that matters right now is getting to his dads. He can’t lose them while he’s sitting in Maddie and Chim’s living room listening to the pause menu music coming from his Switch’s speakers.

“Yeah, okay, we’ll go, let me get the keys.” Maddie hustles around the room, picking up Chris’ stuff as well as her own and giving Chim instructions about dinner.

They’re in the car about two minutes later. Neither of them speak the whole way to the hospital.

Instead, Chris watches out the window as they pass houses and playgrounds and office buildings, everyone going about business as usual while he waits to find out if he’s going to lose three parents before his sixteenth birthday.

His mind starts reeling. What if they both don’t make it? Losing one of them would be a cruel trick of the universe, considering how little time they had together as a family, but losing both of them? What even would happen? He only just got back to LA from that actually pretty awful year in Texas living with Abuela and Abuelo. Would he have to go back?

From there, he starts to panic thinking about his grandparents. Did they know? Had someone called them? Or Tia Pepa? Would Chris have to do that? “Hey Abuelita, yeah my chemistry test went okay, no I’m not going to prom this year, oh and by the way, Dad might die. Again.” 

Seems unfair to have the fifteen-year-old take care of that, but who’s to say that’s anyone else’s job, considering that Chris is a bit more grown up than the last time something like this happened. Maybe he could start with Tia Pepa. She lives in LA, she can come to the hospital and help, and then maybe she can call Abuela and Abuelo and Chris won’t have to.

What about their house? Would Chris have to move out? Probably, but what about all his stuff? Or dad’s stuff? Or Buck’s stuff? Some of that was still in boxes waiting to be unpacked and folded in with Chris and Dad’s things. Maybe Maddie would want to take it? Or Buck’s parents? Chris knew Buck had parents, but he’d overheard more than one unkind conversation about them over the years and it seems like they maybe aren’t great people, so it’s possible they won’t want to help. Someone probably told them, too, right? Chris wonders if there were more awkward circumstances for him to meet his new almost-step-grandparents.

God, this is all so messed up.

When Maddie finally pulls into a parking spot in the visitor’s lot of the hospital, she shuts off the car and turns in her seat to face Chris.

“Hey,” she starts. “I know this is scary as hell, so I just want to take a second before we go in, because I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

Chris nods and doesn’t say anything.

“Chimney told me that your Tia Pepa is your dad’s emergency contact, so they already told her what’s going on and she’s on her way. You don’t have to worry about that, in case that was on your mind.”

Spooky how she read his mind like that, Chris thinks. But he feels some of the tension in his body release at the news.

“Buck and your dad were in rough shape when they were brought in,” Maddie continues. “I don’t think it’s fair to sugarcoat it for you. They were injured really badly and they were both going into surgery when Chimney left. When we get to see them, it might be really hard. But we have each other and we know your dads are really strong, they’ve survived a lot, and I think they’re gonna make it through this too, okay?”

Chris sniffs and nods again. “Thanks, Maddie.”

She reaches over and rubs his arm soothingly. “Let’s go.”

They make their way to the waiting area inside, and Chris is immediately surrounded by people. Bobby is there, still in his uniform, hugging Chris and telling him that he’s sorry. For what? Chris thinks. It’s not like Bobby meant to send them into an unstable building. It’s not like it’s Bobby’s fault that his dads stayed in that building longer than they should have. It’s not like they’re dead.

Yet, Chris’ brain adds, unhelpfully.

Chris gets hugs from Athena and Hen, too, and someone makes sure he has water and a place to sit, and he’s so overwhelmed he thinks he’s probably going to cry. He takes a deep, shaky breath and tries to collect himself. Once he sits down, someone explains (over his head, because why include him in this, right?) to Maddie that Dad and Buck are still in surgery and nobody’s given them any updates since Chimney left to go tell Maddie and Chris what happened. Chris wants to ask if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but he doesn’t get a chance before Tia Pepa arrives.

She hurries into the waiting room, and everyone is up and hugging and giving the same rundown of updates all over again. Chris accepts her hug and feels a huge amount of tension release the second he’s in her arms. It’s not like everything is fixed now that she’s here, but it does feel a little more okay.

“Did you tell Abuela and Abuelo?” Chris mutters into the hug.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tia Pepa says, rubbing Chris’ back. “I took care of it, it’s all going to be fine.”

Chris finally exhales. He lets go and blinks up at Pepa through tears. “Okay.”

There’s nothing to do after that except sit and wait. 

It’s a lot of sitting. Everyone comes and goes, always rubbing Chris’ shoulder or patting him on the back when they pass him. Pizza arrives and is eaten, then coffee (Chris gets a soda instead). Chris has no idea how much time passes. He tries to scroll his phone or read for homework or do anything to keep his brain occupied and nothing works. Eventually he just sits and looks at his hands. It’s weird being in this situation without Dad. Or Buck. He’s done this so many times—more times than any kid should have—but he’s always had at least one of them for this part, and he doesn’t know what to do without them. He doesn’t want to think about the reason why he doesn’t have either of them right now.

Roughly one eternity later, a doctor approaches their little group.

“Evan Buckley? Or Edmundo Diaz?” she asks, taking in the number of people who stand up to meet her.

“Both,” Bobby says. “They’re both firefighters on our team.”

“Right,” the doctor says. “They’re both out of surgery, both in recovery and stable, but their injuries are severe. We can’t be sure what the long-term prognosis for either of them is at this point.”

“Can we see them?” Maddie asks, moving towards the front of the group and nudging Chris along with her.

“Family only at this point,” the doctor says. “We can give you more details about each of them in their rooms.”

“Okay.” Maddie grabs her purse from the chair she’d been sitting on. “Chris, come on, I know you really want to see them. Can one more person come back?” Maddie asks, gesturing towards Tia Pepa.

“Yes, that’s fine,” the doctor replies. Chris does his best not to roll his eyes. Kids are never treated like a whole person in hospitals. But he guesses it’s good to have another adult around to get the details so he doesn’t have to.

The three of them promise everyone they’re going to give them updates and follow the doctor back to Dad and Buck’s rooms. The uneasy feeling starts kicking in again when Chris notices they’re following signs for the ICU.

Eventually, they reach their destination. Two rooms side by side, doors closed. Chris feels his chest clench. He can’t put his finger on why, but it just feels wrong that Dad and Buck are in separate rooms. They belong together, doesn’t anyone at this hospital know anything? How are they supposed to heal if they’re separated?

Tia Pepa turns and looks at him and Chris realizes he stopped walking. Maddie stops outside Buck’s door and also looks at Chris.

He doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t–” Chris starts and sighs. He feels close to tears again. “I don’t know where to go first.”

Tia Pepa and Maddie both hit him with sympathetic looks.

“Christopher,” Tia Pepa finally says. “You don’t have to choose between them.”

“They’re in different rooms, I can’t be with them both at the same time! So I kind of do have to choose between them, actually!” Chris knows he’s whining. He sounds like a baby, not a fifteen-year-old who should be able to handle his dads in the hospital.

“Okay,” Maddie says. “Why don’t you go in with your dad for now and the second I get an update about Buck, I’ll come in and give you the full rundown.”

Thank god for Maddie. She talks to Chris like she understands what he’s going through. Like he’s smart enough to understand what’s going on.

Chris nods and follows Tia Pepa into Dad’s room.

This is probably the part he hates the most. Seeing Dad surrounded by a bunch of machines, asleep, all kinds of tubes hooked up to him. His dad has always been a superhero. He’s strong and brave and full of life. But in this environment he just looks… small. Vulnerable. It makes Chris uncomfortable. Plus, there’s the constant beeping, the weird smell, and having to nod politely as nurses and doctors come in and do their checks what feels like every ten minutes.

It sucks.

Chris waits for Tia Pepa to arrange the chairs in the room to be near Dad’s bed before he sits in one and really looks at him.

He looks bad. There’s no way around it. He looks worse than Chris has ever seen him, even after he got shot.

At least when he got shot, he was awake before Chris made it to the hospital. This time, he’s still under, he’s still got a breathing tube in. On top of that, he looks bruised all over, at least the parts of him Chris can see. He has bandages in multiple spots, including around his head, and a cast on one of his legs.

It’s only about a minute or two before another doctor comes in. He barely acknowledges Christopher and speaks only to Tia Pepa. Chris listens as close as he can, focusing more on trying to beam all his Please be okay thoughts directly into his dad’s brain. He hears things like “collapsed lung” and “broken bones.” The words “swelling” and “potential traumatic brain injury” make him lift his head quickly.

He hears the end of the doctor’s spiel.

“We’ll know more when he wakes up. We’re optimistic he’ll be back with us in a day or two.”

There’s a long pause. “Optimistic?” Tia Pepa asks.

My question exactly, Chris thinks.

“We can never know for sure. Mr. Diaz has been through a lot and we’ve done as much as we can to get him on the way to recovery, but for now, we just have to wait and let him heal.”

Chris reaches out and puts his hand on his dad’s where it’s resting on top of the blanket. It seems like it’s the only part of him that isn’t covered in scrapes or bruises or bandages.

Dad, you have to wake up.

Tia Pepa’s asking questions and Chris doesn’t listen. Much as he wants to be treated like a grown-up, he just can’t bring himself to try to absorb all the information being thrown at them. He wonders if he should be paying better attention. He’s not a little kid anymore, maybe he should be participating in his dad’s care more.

Chris half-registers the doctor leaving. It’s quiet for a minute before the door opens again. Maddie.

“Hey, Chris.” She sits next to him. Chris looks up and realizes Tia Pepa stepped outside at some point. He sees her on her phone through the window. “How is he?”

Chris shrugs. “They don’t know if he’s gonna wake up.”

Maddie’s hand settles on Chris’ back. “Do you want to hear about Buck?”

Chris bites his lip and nods, not looking away from Dad.

“He’s also still asleep, but he doesn’t have any head injuries. Apparently, the major issues were a broken collarbone and elbow and some pretty bad internal bleeding. They’re mostly worried about infection.”

Chris takes a shaky breath. “And blood clots, I bet.”

“With his history, yeah, that’s a concern.” Maddie leans down to catch Chris’ eyes. “It could have been a lot worse, believe it or not. For both of them.”

Chris scoffs.

“Do you want to go see Buck?”

“In a minute.” Chris feels like he needs to stay with Dad for a little bit longer.

He spends the next few minutes thinking Wake up, be fine over and over in his dad’s direction. Like if he just wants it enough, it’ll happen.

When Tia Pepa is done on the phone and comes back in, Chris gets up to go over to Buck’s room with Maddie.

It’s mostly the same in there. Buck, who’s always so energetic it can border on annoying sometimes, is laying on the bed, lifeless and hooked up to the same machines Dad’s hooked up to. It reminds Chris way too much of how he looked after he got struck by lightning.

That wasn’t even three years ago, Chris thinks. I was in a room in this hospital begging Buck to come back less than three years ago.

It’s that thought that finally makes Chris start to cry.

It’s just so unfair. What kid has to have memories like that? What kid has to deal with stuff like this as many times as he has? First his mom, then Dad and Buck traded turns getting hurt so many times Chris has lost count, then Bobby and that crazy virus that almost killed him while he and Dad were in Texas, and, most recently, losing Bisabuela. That doesn’t even factor in things that almost took Chris out himself, like earthquakes and tsunamis, or things like dead mom doppelgangers that pushed him and Dad apart.

After Bisabuela, though, things had been good. He and Dad were back on track after coming home from Texas. Chris was settling in at school well, he was happy finding his routine back in LA again, he was even fixing things with his grandparents after leaving Texas. And then Dad and Buck got together and it was something better than good.

Too good, Chris’ brain fills in. Chris lets his tears fall as he sits by Buck’s bedside and really lets that thought wash over him. It was too good. 

After all this time, Dad finally figured his shit out and told Buck how he felt and all three of them were so happy as a family unit. Chris should have seen this coming. It had been too long since he’d been in one of these uncomfortable chairs, it was only a matter of time before he was back here. It feels unfair but also, strangely, like it was unavoidable. The universe was going to do something to balance out all the good happening. Maybe it had to try to take both of them because the good it was trying to balance out was just that good.

Maddie runs her hand soothingly up and down Chris’ back as he cries. For a while, she doesn’t say anything, just lets Chris sob with his forehead on the scratchy blanket where Buck’s hand would be if his whole arm wasn’t in a cast.

His tears let up after a while, and Maddie lets the quiet sit around them for a second. “It’s all really shitty, isn’t it?” she finally asks.

Chris looks at her, surprised.

“Right?” she continues. “I mean, they finally get together and this happens? They didn’t even get a chance to get really sickeningly in love yet.”

“You didn’t share a house with them, it got pretty disgusting,” Chris responds flatly, swiping at his eyes. He doesn’t know if he should say the next part, but he has to tell someone. “Dad was gonna propose,” he says quietly, eyes still on Buck.

“He was?” Maddie only sounds a little surprised. Makes sense, Chris guesses. You’d have to be stupid not to see that it was inevitable for the two of them, and Maddie isn’t stupid.

“We talked about it last week,” Chris adds. “Dad started looking at rings and–” his voice cracks and he has to clear his throat so he doesn’t start crying again. “I was doing the research for what we had to do for Buck to adopt me officially. Dad never said, but I think he wanted to ask him together.”

“Oh, Christopher.” Maddie’s voice sounds so sad, Chris can hardly stand it.

“Guess we’ll see if that happens.”

“You’ll get them back,” Maddie says. Her confidence surprises him. Who can look at this situation and have that kind of faith?

“I hope so,” he replies, mostly because he feels like he should.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Chris tries to beam Wake up thoughts directly into Buck’s brain like he did with Dad, but it doesn’t work. Maybe asking Buck to come back from the first coma used up all his super powers in that area. Maybe that was never a thing and he was just a kid saying things to someone who would never hear it.

Tia Pepa comes in with a soft knock after a little while.

“Visiting hours are over, cariño,” she says, hovering in the doorway.

Chris doesn’t move. “Family is allowed to stay, right?”

He hears more than sees Maddie and Tia Pepa exchange a look. 

“I shouldn’t have to leave. Tia, if we leave, there’s nobody to stay with Dad. We can’t just leave Dad alone.”

“You can’t stay all night, Christopher, you have to get some sleep.”

Chris scoffs. “Like I’d be able to sleep,” he mutters.

He hears Tia Pepa sigh.

“Chris, I promise I’ll be here the whole time,” Maddie says. “I’ll text you any updates the second we have them. You won’t have to wait to hear from anyone else. And once you two leave, we’ll get Bobby to come back so there’s always someone in each room.” She leans in to catch Chris’ eyes again. “You won’t be out of the loop, promise.” She holds out her pinkie finger in the space between them. Chris looks at it for a second before hooking his pinkie around hers.

“Okay.” Chris takes one more look at Buck before standing up. “But I want to come back first thing in the morning.”

Tia Pepa agrees, and Chris makes sure Maddie has his phone number. He swallows down more tears while he says goodnight first to Buck and then to his dad.

You will both be here when I get back in the morning, Chris thinks as Dad’s door closes behind them.

Maddie walks them back towards the waiting area where the rest of the family is waiting. Chris and Tia Pepa hover while Maddie gives a rundown of Dad and Buck’s condition and explains that Chris and Pepa are heading home now that visiting hours are over. Chris accepts another round of hugs from everyone and watches Maddie and Bobby head back to the ICU.

Chris reminds himself that Maddie is going to let him know the second anything happens. She promised. Buck explained to Chris once how sacred pinkie promises were to him and Maddie, so Chris trusts that she was telling the truth.

Chris is too busy worrying to realize they weren’t driving to Tia Pepa’s house until they  park in the driveway of his house.

“Oh,” Chris says when he looks up.

“I thought you’d want to get some of your things, mijo.”

“Right.” Chris supposes it would be good to have a change of clothes at Tia Pepa’s house. Nobody knows how long Buck and Dad are going to be in the hospital. If he stays with her the whole time, he probably will need some of his stuff.

Chris hesitates on the front step before unlocking the door. It’s weird knowing what’s waiting on the other side. The house is dark, quiet. Buck isn’t in the kitchen feeding his sourdough starter and Dad isn’t sitting on the counter next to him pretending he’s helping. They aren’t going to scold Chris for getting home late, and Chris isn’t going to hug them both and shuffle off to bed, and Chris isn’t going to fall asleep listening to the sounds of them playing video games in the living room.

Instead, Chris opens the door to silence. He turns on the lamp on the entry table and tries not to think about how eerie the house feels as he makes his way to his room. Tia Pepa follows him and helps Chris pack a duffle bag with some extra clothes and his stuff from the bathroom. Chris grabs his phone charger and laptop and stuffs them in his backpack and then wanders into the dining room. He looks over and sees a covered plate of cookies on the kitchen table.

Buck had made them the other morning before he and Dad left for their shift. Chris had snuck one on his way out the door to catch the bus to school, earning him a “Cookies aren’t breakfast, Christopher” from Dad.

Chris’ chest tightens. His lungs suddenly feel way too small, like he’s never going to be able to take a full breath ever again. He collapses into one of the dining room chairs and tries to remember how to breathe.

Buck made those cookies and they’re just sitting there in the middle of the kitchen getting stale and Buck might never make cookies in that kitchen again and the thought of that makes Chris feel like he’s about to die too.

Buck’s his dad. Maybe not officially or anything, but in all the ways that count. He’s been there for Chris since he was a little kid. And now he’s at the hospital and Chris might lose him forever before he has the chance to make it real.

Chris had been so worried about losing them both, he hadn’t considered what the alternative would mean. He can’t cope with the thought of losing one of them over the other. Just thinking about it makes his ears start to ring a little bit. Dad and Buck are a set. It’s the same reason he hated seeing them in separate hospital rooms. They do better as a team, they have each other’s backs. Always have.

Objectively, Chris knows he should be grateful if one of them makes it. Most of the things he’s scared of in this situation go away if he gets to keep one parent.

But he can’t wish that on either of them.

Dad already lost Mom. The thought of him having to deal with losing Buck too is so terrible Chris shuts down that line of thinking as quickly as he can just so that he doesn’t accidentally manifest anything. But Chris also remembers how Buck cried the night Dad got shot five years ago. It would be so much worse for Buck if they actually lost Dad this time. It’s another thought that Chris has to actively avoid putting in his head. He wonders if he’s lucky enough not to have to worry about either scenario becoming real.

He takes one last shaky inhale and stands up just as Tia Pepa joins him in the dining room.

“Ready to go?”

She probably didn’t mean it to sound so final. Unfortunately, to Chris it sounds like he’s leaving for good. It makes his stomach hurt.

He follows Tia Pepa out to the car and climbs into the front seat. He watches the house get smaller in her rearview mirror. I’m coming back, Chris thinks. They’re going to be okay and I’m coming back.

Pepa tries to chat with him on the drive but Chris doesn’t feel like talking. He just nods along and makes noncommittal noises until she stops trying. It’s probably rude, the kind of “surly teenage behavior” Dad’s always chiding him about. But then he remembers why Dad isn’t here to tell him to cut it out and he thinks maybe he’s earned a little bit of sulking.

They get to Tia Pepa’s house and Chris gets settled into her guest room. It’s been a little while since he spent the night here, but it’s familiar all the same. Part of him is happy for the hit of familiarity, but it doesn’t make him wish he was at the hospital any less. It is nice to have family around him, though.

He knows he should be polite here, especially after ignoring Pepa in the car. He’s a guest, he should let her feed him or sit with her and watch some TV or something. Dad’s her nephew and she loves Buck like family, she’s probably feeling a lot of what Chris is feeling right now too. He should be there for her somehow, do something to show that he understands and he cares and can empathize, but he’s just so tired. It’s been a terrible day and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow and he doesn’t want to be awake anymore.

Thankfully, she doesn’t ask him to stay up with her, just gets him a glass of water and gives him a hug once he’s in his pajamas.

“Try and get some sleep,” she says into the top of Chris’ head. “I know today was a lot, but it’s going to be okay. Your dads are tough.”

Chris nods and lets out a little “Mhm” as he hugs her back. 

Everyone keeps saying it’s going to be okay but how could they possibly know that? It’s supposed to make him feel better, he knows, but he doesn’t have it in him to engage on the topic.

She lets Chris go and tells him she’ll be out in the living room for a little while if he needs anything before leaving him to sleep. Chris gets into bed and stares at the ceiling in the dark.

The longer he lays there, the more he realizes that he doesn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t be trying to sleep. He wants to be there for his dads. He should be sitting in the hospital in those dumb uncomfortable chairs waiting in case one of them wakes up. They’d do the same for him. Had done the same for him under less dire circumstances. And here he is, tucked into bed at Tia Pepa’s house, comfortable and not waking up every ten minutes, while Dad and Buck are fighting for their lives back at the hospital.

He’s weighing trying to convince Tia Pepa to drive him back to the hospital when the day catches up to him and he falls asleep.

Things don’t move as quickly as Chris wants in the morning. Pepa calls school and explains the situation, and Chris gets the rest of the week off (they’re going to revisit everything come Monday morning, depending on how things go), but getting to the hospital takes forever. She insists he eat breakfast after his dinner of pizza and hospital vending machine snacks, and then Pepa has to field phone calls from concerned family about Dad’s condition. It’s endless, and all Chris wants is to see Dad and Buck. He keeps looking at his phone, waiting for the text Maddie promised once one of his dads wakes up. It doesn’t come.

They finally make their way back to the hospital and Chris rocks back and forth impatiently while they check in with security.

Finally, they head back to the ICU. Maddie meets them outside Buck’s room.

Chris accepts her hug and asks, “How are they?”

She squeezes him once. “Not much change. Still both out, but their readings are all as good as can be expected. Buck’s doctors think he could wake up any time.”

“And Dad?” Chris asks, knowing he’s not going to like the answer.

“We still don’t know.”

Chris breathes out. Okay. That’s still not good. He was prepared for that. It’s going to be a long day. Chimney shows up at that moment with a bag for Maddie and some coffee, so Chris and Pepa decide to start by checking in on Dad to give Maddie and Chim a chance to talk.

Bobby’s in Dad’s room when they go in, sitting close to the bed with his rosary in his hands. He’s still wearing his uniform from yesterday, and Chris swallows around the lump forming in his throat. Bobby cared enough to sit at Dad’s bedside all night, to pray for Dad all night. It’s overwhelming knowing that they’re both loved like that.

“Hi Bobby,” Chris says quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

Bobby takes a moment and crosses himself before looking up. “Hey, Chris. Welcome back.”

“Maddie says he’s still the same,” Chris says in reply, hovering at the foot of the bed. Dad definitely looks the same.

“That’s right, no change overnight. Which they’re thinking is a good thing. It means he’s healing.”

Chris nods. Bobby has a way of projecting calm into the room that Chris has always found comforting, even when he was little. It’s especially nice in situations like this. He moves to sit in the chair by the bed, focused on Dad’s sleeping form.

You have to be all right, Chris thinks as he settles in and takes Dad’s hand. Then, because he can’t help himself, Wherever you are right now, you have to come back.

Tia Pepa and Bobby talk a little more about how Dad’s doing, and Chris only half listens. He accepts a pat on the shoulder from Bobby as he takes off to go home and get some sleep. He promises he’ll be back later, and Chris thanks him.

Hours pass and start to blur together. Chris spends some time with Dad before swapping to Buck’s room. He exchanges pleasantries with the nurses and doctors as they come in and out, listens to the updates on Dad and Buck’s conditions, nods in agreement when they tell him his dads are heroes. Maddie’s there, and Chimney for a while. Then Chim leaves and Hen drops in.

Sometime after lunch, Abuela and Abuelo show up. Chris wasn’t sure they would—they didn’t when Dad got shot—but he guesses that’s down to the fact that Dad’s doing a lot worse this time.

They bluster into Dad’s room and immediately start parenting Chris. He loves them, he really does, but when he’s sitting in his dad’s hospital room, next door to Buck's hospital room, worrying about whether Dad or Buck are going to wake up, he doesn’t need them to hover. But Abuela immediately asks when Chris last ate something and starts fussing about whether he slept enough and complaining about how the chairs in the room aren’t good for Chris’ back. Abuelo, on the other hand, just greets Chris before he’s off on a crusade to find Dad’s doctor.

It’s all a little much and Chris is thrown back to how it felt when he was getting to the end of his time living with them. Once the novelty of being there had worn off and he’d forgiven his dad, he realized that their relationship was better when they aren’t under the same roof 24/7. Which is a problem, because he’s pretty sure that if Dad and Buck don’t wake up soon, his grandparents are going to be looking for a way to get him to move back in with them.

It’s not like Chris hasn’t been hoping his dads wake up already. And it’s not like the reminder of how much he doesn’t want to move back in with his grandparents makes him start wishing extra hard for at least one of his parents to get better. But he does start to think that he is definitely getting his dads back. They’re going to be okay. They have to be.

His grandparents hover for the rest of the day, asking the same questions from every doctor and nurse who comes in and getting the same answer. No change in Dad’s condition, no way of knowing if or when he’s going to wake up, they’re not running more tests or scans until he’s physically healed more. Chris starts getting annoyed. Do they think if they ask enough times, the answer will change? Or that everyone is keeping some information from them and if they just ask the right person they’ll admit that they know more than they’re saying they do?

What hurts the most is the complete lack of interest they have in how Buck is doing. They know Dad and Buck are dating, that they all live together, and yet they didn’t even ask how Buck was doing when they arrived, didn’t ask if Chris might be having a hard time coping with both his parents being laid up. Chris volunteered the information he had and got carefully neutral, almost puzzled, responses from his grandparents. Like they didn’t understand why Chris thought they needed to know that information. When Chris takes breaks from sitting by Dad to go sit in Buck’s room, they hit him with disapproving looks, as if they think Chris shouldn’t leave his dad’s side. As if Buck’s place in Chris’ life isn’t important.

Chris does his best to ignore that side of things. His grandparents aren’t bad people. They love him and Dad a lot, and they showed up to help and be here for Chris. Family is important at times like this, he knows that, he just wishes Abuela and Abuelo would recognize that the other people in his and Dad’s life are their family too. That goes double for Buck, who loves Dad and Chris so much and is fighting for his life just like Dad is.

It’s a long day. Chris shuffles back and forth between rooms and hangs out with people as they come in and out. Bobby comes back and sets up in Buck’s room and insists Chris and Maddie take a walk, so they take a lap of the ICU floor and hunt down the really good vending machines to get a few treats before taking them to eat on a bench outside. They chat for a while, swapping stories about Dad and Buck, and Chris can almost pretend the situation inside the hospital isn’t as bad as it really is.

About an hour later, things take a turn. Chris and his grandparents are all crammed in Dad’s room, sitting in mostly awkward silence when Chris notices a commotion next door. He watches through the window as one nurse hustles past and into Buck’s room, then a second, followed quickly by a doctor. Chris watches and tries to listen for any sounds coming through the wall. He thinks he makes out a monitor beeping loudly and he can definitely hear raised voices. Chris waits. Even his grandparents are paying attention. They’re all on edge, Chris most of all.

There are only two options for what could be happening in there to cause that kind of activity. Chris wrings his hands in his lap.

Maddie will come and tell him what’s happening. Whether it’s good or bad, he can trust Maddie is going to be honest with him about what’s going on.

Chris watches the minutes tick by on the clock on the wall. Maddie doesn’t come in.

After five minutes with no news, Chris reaches for his crutches and stands up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Abuela asks.

“I have to go see what’s going on,” Chris says. Obviously, his mind fills in. What a dumb question.

“You should stay here.” Abuela’s tone is cold. It’s a suggestion that isn’t a suggestion. Chris feels his mouth drop open in surprise.

Chris doesn’t sit back down.

“But something is happening and I need to know!” 

“Someone will come and tell you, you don’t have to go over there and get in the way,” Abuelo says.

Chris tries really hard not to roll his eyes. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Christopher, that’s final,” Abuela says, setting the book she’s been reading in her lap. “You need to stay here.”

There’s a silent standoff while Chris tries to decide if it’s worth ignoring his grandparents and barging next door anyway. After a moment, he decides it isn’t and flops back into his chair with a huff.

He checks the clock again. It’s been almost ten minutes. It’s been almost ten minutes with no word and Chris is terrified. And annoyed. Mostly annoyed. Buck could be dying, and Chris is just supposed to sit here because his grandparents can’t comprehend a world in which Chris can do anything but get in the way? Or are they trying to protect him from whatever is going on? Either way, it’s insane. He’s been around this kind of thing for practically half his life. He can handle it. At the very least, he should be there for Maddie like she’s been there for him this whole time. If Chris is terrified, he can’t imagine how Maddie is feeling.

Chris glares at his grandparents. It’s Buck. He can’t just sit here.

He’s about to give up on waiting when Abuela stands up and walks towards the door, patting Chris on the shoulder on her way. Chris watches her leave, thinking maybe she finally understands how worried Chris is and is going to check on things for him. It’s frustrating that she still thinks Chris can’t or shouldn’t get to see what’s happening firsthand, but he’s relieved all the same. But then she lets the door close behind her as she turns the opposite direction from Buck’s room and walks down the hall. Away from Buck. Away from the obvious problem happening next door. Like nothing is going on. 

Chris keeps his eyes on the window until she comes back a minute or two later, craning his neck to try and see or hear anything going on outside. Abuela shuts the door firmly behind herself and hands Chris a juice before sitting down with her own coffee. 

Chris is beyond annoyed now. He’s some crazy mix of scared and worried and frustrated and angry, sitting there with an apple juice his grandmother bought him, unable to just go find out what’s happening himself and having to wait for someone to remember that he cares about Buck too. Angry tears start to burn in his eyes. He checks his phone and checks it again, hoping for a text from Maddie.

It’s another five agonizing minutes before Maddie peeks into Dad’s room. It’s immediately clear that Maddie has been crying and Chris’ heart drops. He braces for bad news.

“I’m so sorry, Chris, you must have noticed what was going on over there,” Maddie explains, stepping to the room. She brushes her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater before continuing. “I wanted everything to be resolved before I came to tell you what happened. Long story short, Buck, um, he coded. They stabilized him,” she adds quickly, seeing the panic that Chris is sure is all over his face. “But they don’t know what exactly caused it. One minute he was fine and the next all his vitals tanked. We do know that it happened last time–” She cuts herself off and takes a shaky breath. “It’s not entirely a surprise. But he’s less hurt this time, so. They don’t know what’s going on.”

Chris feels tears start to fall as he listens to Maddie talk, and he stands up and hugs her without thinking. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Chris asks quietly, still holding onto Maddie.

She squeezes him back. “He’s stable again now, but we don’t know.”

“Is it going to happen again?”

Maddie sniffs. “Let’s hope not.”

“Can I go see him?”

Maddie nods and starts steering Chris towards the door. Chris sees his grandparents share a look as he goes to leave, but they don’t say anything or try to stop him. Good, Chris thinks. He doesn’t say anything as the door closes.

Chris sits in the chair by Buck’s bed next door, watching the steady rhythm of Buck’s heartbeat on the monitor, and thinks about how this is all so precarious. He hates it. Everything was okay this morning. Or he thought it was okay. Not good, but okay. Stable. Just waiting for both of them to wake up. And then Buck almost died. Again. Out of nowhere. 

You can’t do that, Buck.

They have to wake up. One of them has to wake up. And it seemed like Buck would be the one Chris could count on to wake up sooner, at least until the last half hour. Now Chris has no idea.

Not much later, Abuela and Abuelo pop into Buck’s room and insist Chris go home and rest. Chris can’t think of anything he wants less, especially after what happened earlier. He doesn’t want to leave Buck. He doesn’t want to leave Dad. It’s not fair that he has to leave. This could happen again, it could be worse, and if it happens while Chris isn’t there, he’ll never forgive himself.

Unfortunately, Chris doesn’t really get to have a say in whether he stays or not. His grandparents have a hotel near the hospital and are planning on taking shifts with Dad, so they get to stick around while Chris gets sent home with Tia Pepa. He reluctantly says goodnight to Buck and then his dad. He returns the hug Abuela gives him, says goodnight to her and Abuelo even though he’s mad at them because he knows his dad would make him.

He’s silent the whole drive back to Pepa’s house and goes straight to the guest room when he gets there. He’s overflowing with sadness and anger and exhaustion when he finally gets into bed. He lets himself curl up and cry himself to sleep.

Chris has a few texts from Maddie when he wakes up the next morning.

Get back here as quick as you can when you wake up

Sorry that’s a scary text to get. I promise nothing’s wrong!

They think Buck is waking up!

The texts were sent about twenty minutes ago. Chris is out of bed and dressed immediately, rushing out into Tia Pepa’s living room, shouting to let her know what’s going on. Thankfully, she’s a lot faster than yesterday, but Chris is infinitely more impatient today. It feels like it takes hours for them to get to the hospital and up to the ICU.

Maddie meets them outside Buck’s room.

“He’s awake,” she says.

Chris feels tears start to well in his eyes. He takes a deep breath for what feels like the first time in two days. “He is?”

“He’s really groggy still, and he’s not out of the woods yet, especially after yesterday, but…” Maddie lets out a shaky exhale and wipes her eyes. “He’s awake.”

“Can I come see him?” Chris moves towards Buck’s door.

Maddie puts her arm around his shoulders. “Of course you can. They wanted to do some checks on him, but the doctors should be done now, we can go back in together.”

He’ll be hearing about this from his grandparents later, probably—checking on his dad’s boyfriend first thing in the morning when his dad is still far from okay. He’s sure they feel some kind of way about how excited Chris is to see Buck, but Chris doesn’t really care about that right now. Buck’s awake and maybe everything isn’t completely messed up after all.

He and Maddie make their way into Buck’s room just as the last nurse is finishing up. She excuses herself and puts a hand on Maddie’s shoulder on her way out.

“I told him to buzz if he needs anything, but that goes for you, too,” the nurse says.

“Thanks,” Maddie says, turning to Buck.

He smiles sleepily. “Hey,” he croaks, and then winces. Maddie rushes to his side and holds out a cup of water with a straw in it for him. Buck takes a small, tentative sip and then clears his throat. “Thanks Maddie,” he says, clearer this time. He looks over at Chris. “Hey, Superman.”

Chris, embarrassingly, bursts into tears. Maddie’s by his side in a second, ushering him into the chair next to Buck’s bed, and Buck is making a sympathetic sound and looking a little distressed that the arm closest to Chris is in a cast so he can’t reach out and touch him.

“Hey,” Buck says instead. “Chris, it’s okay, I’m gonna be okay.”

Chris tries to pull himself together. “I know, I’m just really happy you’re awake,” he manages to get out around his tears.

“How long was I out? The doctor didn’t really say.”

“Almost two days,” Maddie replies.

Buck winces. “Not great.”

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” Maddie says.

“How bad is it, exactly?” Buck asks. Maddie starts explaining the extent of Buck’s injuries, but Chris can tell Buck’s distracted. He keeps looking between Chris and the door, his brow furrowing the longer Maddie talks.

Chris can tell what Buck wants to ask. Because it doesn’t make sense that Chris is here and Dad isn’t. Buck doesn’t seem to have any memory issues, so he must know that Dad was in that building with him. He’s going to be wondering where Dad is. They’re going to have to tell him, and Chris feels nauseous about it.

Maddie finishes running through everything and Buck nods absently. He glances at Chris and then at the door one more time. “Where, um, where’s Eddie? Is he okay?”

Maddie sits in the second chair opposite Chris and takes a deep breath. Chris really doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to have to look at Buck and tell him Dad might not be coming back. He doesn’t want to have to be the one to tell Buck that.

Luckily, Chris doesn’t have to. Maddie takes Buck’s un-bandaged hand before speaking. “Eddie was recovered from the building at the same time you were. But he’s in worse shape. He had a head injury and he’s still unconscious.”

Buck looks confused. “He’s gonna be okay though, right?”

“They don’t know, Buck.” Tears brim in Maddie’s eyes when she says it. Chris chokes down another sob and Buck turns his head towards him.

“What do you mean they don’t know? He’s just out and they don’t know?”

Chris shakes his head and lets the tears flow. There’s a frantic edge to Buck’s voice that just hurts.

“It hasn’t even been two days, though, right? He could pull through and be totally fine, it’s not like it’s been weeks or something,” Buck reasons.

“They’ve been really clear about it,” Chris says sadly. “There’s no way to know.”

“Chris, oh my God, buddy, I’m so sorry.” Buck reaches over with his good hand, wincing as the movement pulls on one of his many injuries.

Chris leans in and accepts the awkward half hug, letting his tears flow on Buck’s shoulder. Part of it is relief at having Buck back. It’s like he can finally relax just a little bit. No matter what, he has one of them. He has Buck. Buck’s had his back for eight years, he’s fought for Chris over and over again, he’s going to make sure everything is okay. But there’s another part of Chris that is still unbearably sad. He just really misses his dad.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Chris,” Buck murmurs, patting Chris’ back as best he can. “I’m here, whatever happens. I’m so sorry you had to do this alone, bud.”

Chris lets himself be comforted for a minute. He rests with his forehead on Buck’s injured shoulder and he knows it’s probably hurting him, but Buck doesn’t make him move. He just lets Chris cry and mutters words of comfort until Chris cries himself out.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Chris says finally.

“Me too.” Buck smiles at him. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris responds.

He sits with Maddie and Buck for a while and he starts feeling better. Chris spends the day going back and forth between Buck’s room and Dad’s, but, admittedly, he’s definitely prioritizing Buck. Tia Pepa and Bobby take turns visiting, and Buck takes calls from Chimney and Hen, too. Everyone is happy to see him, but there’s a dark cloud hanging over all the reunions. They all smile and laugh and hug Buck and then hesitate a moment too long because they know that Buck knows that he’s here and Dad isn’t. It feels a little like a knife in the gut every time, a constant stream of reminders that they both might lose Dad forever. But at least Chris isn’t alone in it anymore.

After a little while, Maddie notices Buck’s eyelids drooping and ushers everyone out to let him get some sleep.

Chris hugs Buck on the way out. “Thank you for coming back,” he whispers.

“I’ll always come back,” Buck responds firmly. He gives Chris one last squeeze before releasing him.

Chris says goodnight and promises to come visit first thing tomorrow before heading back to his dad’s room.

The silence in there is deafening compared to Buck’s room. Abuela and Abuelo sit in the chairs by Dad’s bed, the beeping and whirring of the machines keeping Dad alive the only sounds in the room. Chris pulls the door shut behind him and sits in the remaining chair.

“So they think Buck’s going to be okay,” he says, just to break the silence.

Abuela hums in acknowledgment.

“I guess the main thing is making sure the internal bleeding doesn’t start up again. And he can’t use his arm, obviously. But he should be able to get on his feet tomorrow and could go home in a couple days if the bleeding stays under control.”

Still no response.

Chris continues anyway. “It’ll be nice to be able to go home. I love staying with Tia Pepa, but I always miss my own bed when I do.”

Chris doesn’t tell them that he’s mostly happy this means he can stay with Buck. There’s no point to that other than hurting their feelings. He hates that they seem not to care at all about how Buck is doing, but he’s not surprised by it. 

It’s probably unreasonable to expect them to celebrate their son’s boyfriend pulling through when their son is still in critical condition. It’d be cool if they could be excited about what that means for Chris, but maybe that’s also asking too much.

Visiting hours end not much later. Abuela and Abuelo stay behind again while Tia Pepa takes Chris home. 

Be here when I get back, he thinks for the third night in a row.

Maddie and Bobby are in the hallway outside of Buck’s room when they leave.

“Heading out?” Maddie asks.

“Yeah,” Chris grumbles. He doesn’t love leaving, even with Abuela and Abuelo here. Maybe especially with them here. He just doesn’t trust that they’re going to tell him if anything happens—especially if something bad happens.

“I’ll still keep you updated,” Maddie promises.

“Thanks, Maddie.” Chris gives her a hug.

Bobby pats him on the back. “I’ll be here, too, kid. Your dad’s well taken care of, don’t worry.”

Chris nods and says goodnight to them both.

From there, it’s the same routine as the two previous nights. Driving to Pepa’s, getting comfy in the guest room, staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping.

He really should sleep, he’s exhausted after the last few days, but he keeps thinking about how unfair this all is.

His dad has almost died before—multiple times. It’s desperately unfair that he has to live through this same stupid nightmare again. And now everyone is going to start telling him he’s so lucky that Buck woke up because, hey, at least, he still has someone. But Chris doesn’t want someone. He wants his dad. He’s scared and sad and angry and all he wants is his dad. Dad knows what to do, he always does, it’s been just him and Chris for so long, how is he supposed to just be okay without him? Why did Buck have to wake up instead of Dad?

And he doesn’t mean that. Not really. Chris loves Buck and he’s glad he’s going to pull through. If Buck’s all he has moving forward, he’ll be grateful. But that’s not how it feels right now. He’s furious. At whom, he doesn’t know. Buck, the universe, God, whoever is sitting behind the scenes laughing at Chris’ pain. Dad, a little bit. A lot, actually.

He always thought his dad was a super hero. But the longer he lies there and considers the situation his dad put him in, the madder he gets. His dumb, heroic dad did a dumb, heroic thing and got himself hurt, again, and he got himself hurt worse than Buck, so now Buck is going to live and Dad still might never wake up.

The last time something like this happened, when Dad gave it all up because he didn’t want Chris to lose him, he only went back because Chris told him to. Chris wonders if that means that this is all his fault. And, great, now he’s adding himself to the list of people he’s mad at. Chris considers whether he should ask Dad to stop again if he gets the chance. It makes sense for him to do that; if Dad can’t keep himself out of harm’s way on the job, maybe he should find a different job so Chris can stop sitting by hospital beds.

At the end of the day, the problem is that Chris wants both of them. Call him selfish or greedy or whatever, Chris doesn’t care, is it really so much to ask that he gets to keep them both? His Buck and his dad? 

Chris tosses and turns while he considers that thought. It takes hours for him to finally manage to calm himself down enough to fall asleep.

When he and Tia Pepa head back to the hospital the next day, Chris isn’t surprised to find out nothing has changed. Abuela and Abuelo are both camped out in Dad’s room, and Chris says hi to them and Dad before heading next door to see Maddie and Buck.

Buck is awake and sitting up in bed when Chris arrives, and he and Maddie share a look before Maddie gets up.

“I’ll give you guys a second.” She squeezes Chris’ shoulder on her way out.

Chris takes her seat next to the bed.

“You’re looking better,” Chris says.

“Feeling a little better too,” Buck agrees, shifting his position as best he can with only one arm. “I wanted to talk to you now that I’m–”

“Alive?” Chris finishes for Buck.

Buck winces. “I was going to say awake, but sure,” he says with a chuckle. He pauses before continuing. “Chris, I’m so sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t make Dad stay in that building with you, did you?”

“No, but I’m supposed to have his back out there. And instead we both got hurt and… I’m so sorry you had to go through the last few days alone. You shouldn’t have had to sit here wondering whether we were going to be okay, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

Buck looks about as miserable as Chris feels about it. Chris just nods and waits for Buck to continue.

“I know I’m not– I’m not your dad, Chris, but I just wanted to say I love you, buddy. And I’m here now and I’m sorry I wasn’t before.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck,” Chris says after a beat. “But I meant it yesterday, I am really glad you’re back.”

“Me too.” Buck pauses. Chris can’t quite tell, but it looks like he has more he wants to say. “You know, I was trying to build up the courage to ask you about proposing to your dad. I was worried it was too soon.” He laughs humorlessly. “Feels like a dumb thing to worry about now.”

Chris shakes his head. “You two are ridiculous.”

“So it is too soon?” Buck asks.

“Dad beat you to the question by a week, Buck,” Chris says, rolling his eyes. They really are completely helpless. Chris hopes Dad wakes up just so that they can get married and Chris can tell this story at the wedding. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

“No, of course not.” Buck’s eyes start to water and he swipes at them with his good hand. “He’s gonna be fine, Chris. He has to be.”

For the first time since this all started, Chris actually believes it.

The next few days are basically all the same. Chris goes to the hospital, he checks in on Dad, he checks in on Buck, he sits with Abuela and Abuelo, Dad and Buck’s friends come visit, and Dad doesn’t wake up. 

Buck is recovering well, the doctors think he’ll be able to go home soon, and Chris is genuinely thrilled about that. It’s still going to be a while before he’s fully healed, but Chris is looking forward to being home with Buck again, to having that tiny hint of normalcy back.

The morning of the third day after Buck woke up, Chris finds himself alone in Dad’s room. His grandparents are off somewhere talking to Dad’s doctors (intentionally avoiding doing so in front of Chris, because God forbid he knows what’s going on) and there’s a break in visitors from the 118. Chris realizes he hasn’t had a chance to be alone with Dad since this all started.

He’s once again reminded of three years ago, when he convinced Dad and Carla to sneak him into this same ICU to see Buck. He watches the machines do their work, listens to the steady sounds of everything keeping his dad alive.

“So Buck’s awake,” Chris says to his dad’s sleeping body. “You heard about that, I’m sure. It’s pretty great, but… Dad, you have to wake up. We’re a family—you, me, and Buck. It’s not the same without you. I know you made sure that Buck and I will have each other if…” Chris has to stop to swallow the lump in his throat. “It’s supposed to be the three of us. You have to come back so we can all be a family together, okay? You have to.”

Chris hears the door and jumps. He looks over and is surprised to see Buck standing there in a hospital gown and sweatpants. He’s leaning heavily on a walker with his arm that’s not in a cast and has Maddie hovering behind him, rolling a stand with a hanging IV bag attached to Buck’s hand.

“Fuck,” Buck whispers, taking in the sight of Eddie in the bed in front of him. “Wait, sorry, I mean–”

“Buck, I’m fifteen, you can swear in front of me.”

“I feel like I’m still not supposed to.”

“What’s Dad gonna do?” Chris asks sarcastically. “Wake up and yell at you about it? If that’s all it takes, go ahead and keep doing it.”

Buck laughs quietly and shuffles over to the seat next to Chris.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you back to your own bed, Buck,” Maddie says sternly on her way out of the room. “Don’t let him get too crazy in here, okay, Chris?”

“I’ll do my best,” Chris responds.

“Yeah okay, laugh it up you two,” Buck jokes as the door closes behind Maddie. It’s quiet for a minute before Chris hears Buck sniff. He looks up and Buck swipes at his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just a lot, seeing him in here for the first time.”

Chris nods. “It’s not great.”

“Were you talking to him?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris says. “I did the same for you after you got struck by lightning,” he adds, a little shyly. It feels like something he should be embarrassed about, like something his fifteen-year-old self should judge his twelve-year-old self for.

“You did?”

There’s no judgment from Buck. There never is.

Chris nods again. “Hen said you could hear me if I talked to you, so I told you that wherever you were, you had to come back.”

A funny look crosses Buck’s face for a second. “What did you tell your dad?” he asks.

“Basically the same thing. I told him we need him.”

Buck lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to take Eddie’s hand. “He’s right, you know,” he says to Dad. “We miss you, baby. Come home to us soon, okay?”

Buck and Chris sit with Dad until Maddie comes to get Buck. The day is pretty much the same as the others after that. At lunch time, Chris goes down to the cafeteria with Tia Pepa. They run into Maddie and Hen and sit with them to eat, chatting about Buck’s progress and how much Denny misses having Chris at school. It’s almost normal.

But then, as they’re walking back to Dad’s room, Chris notices something wrong. There’s a commotion down by Dad’s and Buck’s rooms—and that’s not right. Dad’s still out, there’s been no change for days. If there are a bunch of doctors and nurses coming in and out, that means something’s changed.

Chris’ stomach drops. He hurries down the hall as fast as his crutches will let him go. He’s sure Maddie and Pepa and Hen are next to him or behind him or somewhere nearby, but he doesn’t care. He has to get to Dad’s room. He has to get down there as fast as he can.

His grandparents are outside the room when Chris makes it to the end of the hallway, Maddie and Pepa close behind him (Chris vaguely notices Hen veering towards the waiting area in the lobby, saying something about cutting off new visitors). It’s impossible to tell from the looks on their faces what’s going on. Abuela might be crying? That could be good or bad, Chris thinks.

“Is he–” Chris starts to ask. He can’t bring himself to finish the question. He doesn’t even know what the end of the question is.

“Waking up, we think,” Abuela says.

Chris feels his knees buckle. Abuela pulls him into a hug before he collapses onto the floor.

Dad’s awake. He actually woke up. Chris knows he’s not out of the woods—the doctors had been clear that Dad’s brain injury might mean more issues even once he wakes up—but he’s awake. They can figure the rest of it out.

“Do you know anything else?” Maddie asks from behind Chris.

“They’re doing some checks,” Abuelo says, sounding a little tense.

“Does Buck know?” Chris asks, leaning back from Abuela’s hug.

His grandparents exchange a look.

“We have to tell him!” Chris says, turning to look at Maddie.

“I will, we will, do you want to come?” she asks.

“I think I should–” Chris feels crazy. He’s all turned around, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this situation. He wants to be in three places at once, and he doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he should stay, but he also thinks he should go talk to Buck. He’s still trying to decide when Maddie interrupts his train of thought.

“You stay here, wait for your dad, I’ll let Buck know,” Maddie says, slipping into Buck’s room.

Chris stands there with his grandparents and Tia Pepa for what feels like hours. Maddie rejoins them after a few minutes, looking exasperated. Apparently Buck was desperate to join them to wait on word about Dad, but Maddie insisted that he couldn’t be on his feet that long. She’d been allowed to come back out to wait as long as she promised to get Buck the second they were allowed back in Dad’s room. Chris glances through the window and sees Buck craning his neck trying to watch them from his bed.

Finally, Dad’s doctor comes out.

“How is he?” Abuela asks, putting her arm around Chris’ shoulders.

“He’s groggy coming out of sedation, which is understandable, but against all odds, his cognitive function seems to be fine. We’ll have to keep monitoring him for the next few days to make sure. He’ll need some scans, and his other injuries will take a while to heal, but it’s looking like he’s going to make a full recovery. He’s very lucky.”

Chris’ grandparents start peppering the doctor with questions, but Chris doesn’t hear any of it.

Dad’s fine. He’s going to be fine. We get to be a family again.

“Can we go in?” Chris interrupts the conversation around him. “Sorry, I just– I want– Can I go see him? I want to see him. Maddie, can you get Buck?”

Chris doesn’t understand why they’re all still standing around talking. Dad’s awake in there and he’s in there with strangers, why aren’t they rushing in to see him?

“Maybe not everyone at once, you don’t want to overwhelm him,” the doctor says carefully. “But yes, you can go in.”

Chris looks at Maddie. “Get Buck? Maddie, he’s gotta be freaking out in there, you have to let him know.”

“I’ll get him, don’t worry, you go in and Buck will be right behind you.”

“Abuela?” Chris looks at his grandmother expectantly.

“Come on,” she says, ushering him towards the door and pushing it open.

Chris takes a deep breath before walking through the door. Someone raised the back of Dad’s bed so he’s sitting up a little and even though he looks fairly rough, he’s actually, really awake. His eyes light up when he sees Chris and Chris can barely contain his excitement.

“Dad!” Chris hurries to the side of the bed.

“Hey, Christopher,” Dad croaks, holding his hand out, reaching for Chris.

Chris leans in and tries to hug his dad as gently as he can. No words come to him as he feels his dad’s arms rise weakly to hug him back. He stays in the moment with his dad, thanking the universe or God or whomever is in charge of this for giving his dad back to him. He stays where he is until he hears the door open behind him.

“Eddie,” Chris hears Buck breathe, his voice cracking.

Chris straightens up and looks over his shoulder. Buck’s standing in the doorway, leaning on Maddie, looking about as overcome with emotion as Chris feels.

“Hi, Buck,” Dad says, his voice a little stronger. He looks between Chris and Buck, and it all seems to click for him. “Baby, are you hurt?”

God, that is so Dad, Chris thinks. Of course that’s where his brain goes first.

“You’re one to talk,” Buck says with a watery laugh.

“Seriously, Dad, you just woke up, you’re bandaged all over, and you’re worried about Buck?”

“I’m always worried about Buck,” Dad grumbles, and Chris can’t help but roll his eyes affectionately.

Everyone in the room shuffles around to let Chris and Buck sit by Dad’s bed, Buck stopping to lean in and kiss Dad’s forehead, hissing slightly when he does. Dad holds Buck’s hand and accepts hugs from his parents and waits until everyone is settled before he talks again.

“So, what happened? Last thing I remember was us going after the stragglers in that structure fire.”

“Which was very stupid of both of you,” Maddie says from her post by the door.

Buck grimaces. “The building kind of came down on us.”

“You’ve been out for six days,” Chris says flatly.

The room falls silent for a minute.

“Can I have a minute with Christopher?” Dad asks.

“Edmundo–”

“Mom.” Dad cuts a look at her that says he isn’t messing around.

“You need rest, mijo,” Abuela continues.

“I know. But I also need five minutes alone with my son. Please.”

Abuelo and Abuela leave looking more than a little annoyed. They make it clear that they’ll be right outside and are coming back in exactly five minutes. Buck squeezes Dad’s hand and promises he’ll be back soon. They make truly disgusting faces at each other about it.

“I love you. Welcome back,” Buck says before leaving.

“Love you, too,” Dad says. He watches Buck and Maddie leave. Once they’re gone, he closes his eyes and rests back against his pillows.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” Dad continues after he opens his eyes, reaching out to put his hand on Chris’. “This must have been so scary for you, bud, and I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Chris replies. “I mean, it was scary and I was really mad at you for getting hurt, but… I’m just so glad you’re okay, I kind of don’t care about that part.”

“I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“I’d love if you didn’t, yeah.”

“Christopher,” Dad says in his not-kidding-around voice.

“I’m not a kid anymore, I can see both sides of it. Like, yeah, I don’t want this to happen again and I wish you’d be more careful on the job, but I’m proud of you anyway. You saved a bunch of lives doing what you did. That’s pretty cool.”

“I’ll be more careful.”

“No, you won’t.” Chris laughs. It feels good to joke around with him again. Dad’s laugh is a little weak, and Chris knows he’s tired, but he’s so glad they’re having this conversation at all, it doesn’t faze him. “But I’m going to need you and Buck to switch off being stupid so you both aren’t in the hospital at the same time again.”

“Deal,” Dad replies. “I love you, buddy.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Chris is pretty sure it hasn’t been a full five minutes, but Abuela and Abuelo let themselves back in anyway. They’re followed by Dad’s doctor, who explains to Dad the extent of his injuries and what they’re planning on doing over the next few days while he’s still in the hospital. Dad takes a nap after that, and Chris falls asleep in the chair next to him, finally able to actually rest now that he knows Dad is going to be okay.

The rest of the day is a slow stream of visitors, everyone from the 118 wanting to come tell Dad how glad they are that he’s okay. Chris sticks close to Dad’s side through it all, basking in the warmth of their family’s love. 

It’s a little crazy, Chris thinks as Dad laughs at a story Hen’s telling about how their most recent shift went without Dad and Buck, how they really all are a family. He and Dad moved to LA when Chris was a kid, with nobody in the city except Tia Pepa and Bisabuela, and they somehow landed with a group of people who love and take care of them through thick and thin, no questions asked. It’s funny how, even when Chris was worried about whether Dad and Buck would be okay, he never questioned that the whole 118 family unit would be there for him whether Dad and Buck pulled through or not. It’s overwhelming to think about.

Late in the day, Chris makes his way back to Dad’s room after walking to the lobby with Abuela and Abuelo. Somehow, after all of Dad’s visitors filtered out, Dad convinced both of his parents to go get some rest. Chris went out with them to say goodnight, promising he’d let Tia Pepa take him home before it got too late. 

As Chris approaches Dad’s room, he sees through the window that Buck is inside, sitting in the chair by Dad’s bed. They look locked in intense conversation. Chris stops just outside the door, not wanting to barge in on a private moment. Dad and Buck have been through a lot the past few days, and Buck hasn’t gotten a chance to be alone with Dad since he woke up. They must want the time together.

While Chris is hovering trying to decide if he should just text Pepa to come get him, Dad looks up and sees Chris. He nudges Buck’s hand and Buck turns and gestures for Chris to come in.

“Didn’t want to interrupt you guys,” Chris says as he sits in the chair next to Buck.

“You’re never interrupting, bud,” Dad responds.

“Don’t know about that, remember what happened last week in the kitchen?” Chris teases. Dad and Buck blush in unison. It’s equal parts gross and sweet. Chris can’t believe he’s lucky enough to get to have them back.

“That was one time,” Dad grumbles.

“And we weren’t even doing anything!” Buck adds.

Chris just laughs. “So what’s up? You guys conspiring to have them move you into the same room?”

“I already asked, they said no,” Buck says with a pained expression.

“You already asked?” Dad asks, hitting Buck with a fond look.

“I hated being over there not knowing what was happening.”

“I hated it too,” Chris adds. “Felt weird with you two in different rooms.”

There’s a pause where Dad and Buck have an entire conversation with their eyes.

“Chris, we’re really sorry you had to deal with this all alone,” Buck says once they’re done. Chris opens his mouth to argue against that and Buck interrupts him. “No, I know, you’re going to say we don’t have to apologize, but we really do.”

Dad chimes in before Chris can respond. “You’re growing up, but you’re still a kid, you shouldn’t have had to take this on all by yourself.”

“I wasn’t really by myself,” Chris says. “I mean, yeah I kind of was, but everyone was here with me. Pepa and Abuela and Abuelo and basically everyone you work with. Our whole family was here with me. But I still missed you guys. We’re a family, you know? I need you. Both of you.”

“I was actually thinking about that,” Buck says. “A little birdie told me that you were thinking about asking me something, Eddie.”

“Oh my God, traitor,” Chris mutters.

“Shh, Chris, I’m talking to your father,” Buck teases. 

Chris scoffs.

“You told him?” Dad asks Chris.

“You were in a coma,” Chris responds.

“Excuse me, can a man not propose in his boyfriend’s hospital room without being interrupted?”

“Buck?” Dad asks, eyes wide.

“Is that what you were doing?” Chris jokes.

“Oh my God, I take it back,” Buck groans.

“Technically you never even asked, so there’s nothing to take back,” Chris says.

“He makes a good point,” Dad says, pointing at Chris.

“I’m leaving,” Buck says.

“No, stay, I’m sorry.” Dad reaches out for Buck’s hand. “You were saying that Chris sold me out?”

“I did not sell you out, Buck said he wanted to ask you to marry him and I said you wanted to ask him too!”

“Wow, now who’s the traitor?” Buck asks, mock-offended.

“Fair’s fair,” Chris says with a grin. “So now you know you both wanted to ask.”

“I guess so,” Dad says, eyes on Buck.

“And I guess all that’s left is to ask. So.” Buck sits up a little straighter. “I know we’re a family already, and that we have been for forever. But, Eddie, I want to make it official. I was worried it was too soon, but almost losing you—again—got me thinking that there’s really no such thing as too soon for us. And I’m hoping you feel the same way. I can’t really get down on one knee right now, and I don’t have a ring or anything but I’m hoping that won’t matter.” Buck takes Dad’s hand. “Eddie–”

“Buck, will you marry me?” Dad interrupts, smiling so wide it looks like it’s going to split his face open.

“Wow, way to steal my thunder,” Buck grumbles.

“Not an answer, babe.”

“Of course it’s a yes, obviously, I just can’t believe you didn’t let me ask.”

“I just woke up from a coma, it’s been a long day, chances are high you’re going to have to ask me again tomorrow,” Dad explains with a chuckle.

Buck sighs. “Okay but you can’t play that card again.”

“Deal.” Dad settles into the pillows and lets his eyes close. “Plus I promise I’ll say yes anytime you ask,” he adds with a yawn.

“Good, you better,” Buck says. He leans in but hesitates, cutting his eyes over to where Chris is watching with, admittedly, a pretty goofy grin on his face.

“What? You need my permission to kiss now?” Chris teases.

“I don’t know, I’m just trying to be respectful.”

“You just got engaged in front of me, I would be mad if you didn’t kiss my dad right now.”

Chris smiles as Buck shakes his head and then leans in to kiss Dad. Usually Chris would make some kind of joke about them doing that in front of him, but he knows it’s not the time. 

Tears start to well in his eyes instead. He thinks it might be the perfect moment. After how scary the last week was, seeing his dads back together, sharing a moment, getting engaged, is more than he could have asked for. Chris can’t wait to spring the adoption question on Buck. He figures he’ll do it tomorrow, maybe ask Maddie to record it so they can keep the moment forever.

For now, Chris just basks in how he finally feels safe again. They’re going to be okay. Whatever happens next, injury recovery and whatever that looks like and however long they may have to sit out their jobs or whatever else, they’re back together. And even if—God forbid—something like this happens again, Chris knows that he has their family behind him. That means absolutely everything.