Chapter Text
It all started at Denny’s birthday party.
Chris had been looking forward to Denny’s party for a while. As he’s gotten older, and especially since his father had decided to become a monk, he didn’t really see Denny as often for last minute sleepovers or general gatherings. Denny’s clearly inherited his mothers’ drive for science as he’d joined a regional STEM collective and was often away at various events and retreats.
So seeing Denny had very much become a treat, and Chris enjoyed spending time with Mara too. Mara who was currently sitting on the floor of the Wilsons’ living room and braiding Jee’s hair with another girl who Chris assumes is a sister of one of Denny’s friends. Every now and again she reaches out to tug baby (or more like toddler) Nash’s walker before it collides with a random piece of furniture or someone’s shin as adults and teenagers mingle and laugh around them.
The cake has already been blown out and cut into slices, and Chris is currently sitting on a chair eating one of said fondant-laden slices and chatting to one of Denny’s friends. Or rather listening to one of Denny’s friends. He forgot to ask at the start of their conversation, but he assumes the guy is from Denny’s STEM group. And no, this deduction was not made due to the guy’s mousy demeanour and violently jazzy braces, but by the fact that the boy had been speaking Chris’s ear off about quantum physics for the last 23 minutes and 38 seconds. He’s been counting.
Look, Chris likes science as much as the next person. More-so probably. He’s loved building structures since his physio therapist sent him home with a bag of Lego when he was six, and the concept of mitosis and cytokinesis? fascinating. But it’s a party for Christ’s sake, and this kid seems to be taking Chris’s inability to make a quick getaway as a cue to discuss the possible and impossible state of … something. Honestly, Chris is just nodding at every 20 second interval to be polite.
It was a major relief when something crashed into Chris’s legs with a painful whack. For a second he thought baby Nash had finally escaped Mara’s clutches, but peering down he is met by a mop of golden curls that lift up to reveal a small face. A small face sporting a very mischievous grin.
“Hey, Theo. What’s up?”
Theo doesn’t answer straight away, too busy using one of Chris’s crutches as leverage to climb into his lap. Once up he smacks his lips (which are already framed in various sticky-looking foods) in a silent demand. Chris rolls his eyes and mournfully deposits the last bite of his cake into Theo’s open mouth.
“Thank you, Christopher,” Theo mumbles, spraying Chris’s t-shirt with crumbs. “Buck said I couldn’t have any more cake so I ran away.”
“And I was the unsuspecting target?” Chris asks, more amused than annoyed. He knows Buck won’t be mad. He’d probably have given into Theo’s pleas himself by the end of the party anyway.
Theo nods happily, still munching away, and holds up two fingers.
“I was your second target,” Chris deduces, and is met with another nod. “Who was the first?”
“I was.” Chris looks up to see his dad walking over looking exasperated, “Apple doesn’t fall far I guess.”
“I don’t want an apple. I want cake!” Theo shouts, raising his arms excitedly and almost knocking Chris’s glasses off with the movement. His dad folds his arms and raises his eyebrow. Chris knows that look all too well. It’s his dad’s ‘I’m going to try and look stern so you’ll listen but also what you did was pretty damn funny’ look. Chris has been on the receiving end of that look many times in his life.
“Hmmm, I don’t think you need more sugar,” Eddie tuts, unfolding his arms and reaching them out to Theo. “But I do think you need to come back to the garden where you can’t ruin Hen and Karen’s new wallpaper with your sticky fingers.”
“Hmmm, okay.” Theo shrugs and lets Eddie pick him up and set him back on the floor with a neeooow bsshh noise. Chris thinks it might be a plane? Or a bomb? He’s not really sure. Theo doesn’t even wait for his feet to fully touch the ground before he’s running off in the direction of the garden.
“Theo’s a lost cause, but you may want to wash up.” His dad points at Chris’s face and Chris touches his mouth feeling for any remnants of cake. His dad shakes his head, “The glasses, mijo. The kid got ya good.”
Chris slides his hands up to his glasses and grimaces when his fingers touch something that manages to feel both slimy and sticky. He’s guessing it’s either frosting or jam.
“Ugh. Thanks Theo,” he mutters quietly, mostly to himself, but his dad snorts a laugh anyway. Chris would feel affronted, but he knows his dad is less than ten minutes away from having a sticky handprint or two on his face.
“I should probably-” His dad points to where Theo has just disappeared.
“Where’s Buck?” Chris interrupts, because usually Buck is very good at intercepting Theo before he accosts people to steal their food.
“In the garden, collecting every abandoned plate of cake so a certain curly haired monster can’t get to them.”
Chris laughs as he pictures Buck scurrying around Hen’s garden in search of rogue slices of cake. It’s probably a lost cause.
“Go. Save Buck.” He waves his dad off, and Eddie takes off in a not-so-subtle speed-walk.
Chris turns to the quantum physics guy (he’d also forgotten to ask him his name) who has been watching the entire interaction in silence.
“I’m going to go to the restroom. Excuse me.”
He tries not to look too eager to leave. He’s not sure how successful he is though as he scrambles to get up and makes a beeline for the stairs. The upstairs bathroom is a bit more of a trek than the downstairs toilet, especially for someone with CP, but the it has better lighting and a proper mirror so he can actually see what damage Theo has done. He quietly curses at the bottom of the stairs when he realises he’s just left his crutches by the chair, but he would rather deal with the effort of slowly dragging himself up using the banister than risk another discussion about probability.
It’s honestly not too bad. He runs his soaped-up glasses under the tap and finds a q-tip in one of the drawers which he uses to scrape most of the frosting out of the left hinge. It works well enough he thinks as he puts them back on his face and checks himself in the mirror. He’ll probably need to get his dad to take them apart to clean properly later, but for now you can’t tell (or feel) that just moments ago they had been covered in a weird concoction of frosting, jam and what he hopes was Cheeto dust.
He briefly makes a plan to try and get downstairs and grab his crutches without running into quantum physics guy before leaving the bathroom. He’d feel bad but it’s a party and it’s not like this house isn’t currently home to a rocket scientist the guy can speak to instead. He’s just thinking about the prospect of asking Karen to speak to him when he hears her talking.
“It’s gotten to the point that it’s become ridiculous,” comes the hushed voice.
Chris pauses on the landing, just a meter away from the door to Hen and Karen’s bedroom. Cracked open just enough to betray their conversation.
"Well you know why we're in this conundrum."
Chris knows that’s Hen’s voice. He can hear the resigned exasperation that she usually reserves for talking about Chimney or Buck. He doesn’t think he should be listening to this, and is just about to creep down the stairs when Karen replies.
"Chris."
That makes Chris stop in his tracks completely, hands gripping on the banister tightly as Hen makes an affirmative noise. They’re talking about him? And not just that, he is apparently the cause of something ‘ridiculous’.
"Eddie's never going to say anything because if Buck doesn't feel the same way then Chris might lose Buck."
"And Buck's never going to say anything because if Eddie doesn't feel the same way then he might lose Chris," Karen confirms, her tone just as serious as Hen’s.
Hen lets out a tired sigh. "And so we go around and around until all of us go crazy."
Chris doesn’t want to hear any more. Doesn’t know if there even is any more of the conversation to hear. He goes back into the bathroom and carefully shuts the door before sliding the lock with a shaky hand. He then staggers over to the toilet and sinks down onto the closed lid.
His mind is spinning a mile a minute and he hasn’t felt this feeling in a while. This weird swirling of confusion and guilt before he even knows what he’s supposed to be guilty for. His brain is warring against whether it wants to dissect what he’s just heard or bury it way down and pretend it never happened. He doesn’t get a chance to decide before his phone buzzes and lights up with a notification.
CHAIN OF THREE-MANS 🔗🫡
EDDIE: Sorry, mijo we have to go
BUCK: Where u at? I cant find u
CHRIS: 🚽
EDDIE: Ok we can wait a bit
BUCK: sry. had incident in the garden
EDDIE: Everyones fine.. our cake just made a reappearance 🤮
CHRIS: ew
CHRIS: i’ll be down now
BUCK: we’re gon wait in car
BUCK: with a bucket
CHRIS: double ew 🤢
Chris takes a couple of deep inhales pressing an open palm on his chest so he can focus on the feel of his chest rising and falling as he breathes. It’s a method his old therapist taught him after his mom died, and also the whole tsunami thing, and the whole dad getting shot thing, and the whole Buck getting hit by lightning thing. Wow, thank god the fire department has good health insurance for dependants.
He eventually gets himself together enough to leave the bathroom and make it downstairs. Someone, probably his dad or Buck, has left his crutches at the bottom of the stairs for him so he grabs them and makes his way out to the car.
Theo is already strapped into his car seat looking miserable, a couple of curls plastered to his clammy forehead. Buck is in the back seat next to him nervously hovering with a small plastic bucket with a blue shell pattern. Chris hopes Mara doesn’t mind them stealing it.
“You think I should take Route 66,” his dad says to Buck as Chris climbs into the front passenger seat. “It’s a few minutes longer, but less stopping and starting.”
“Good idea, but take Orange Grove. Palm Ave has those massive pot holes.” Buck gives Theo’s head a soft pat as the kid hiccups glumly.
Eddie nods, and after a quick glance to check everyone’s got their seatbelts on, he starts to drive.
_
Chris’s thoughts bubble up again when he’s in his bedroom. The car ride had been a bit chaotic. Theo didn’t make it 100 yards without needing the bucket. Not that everything made it into the bucket.
By the time they reached Buck’s house Theo was only able to dry heave. His dad had waved off Buck’s string of apologies, and refused his offer to pay for the cleaning, reminding Buck of the numerous times Chris had spewed in Buck’s loft and truck. To be honest Chris doesn’t remember that many times it had happened, maybe twice. Although his friend Jake had once had a horrendous nosebleed in Buck’s truck, and there was still a small brown stain where the blood had never fully come out.
Eddie’s currently doing his best to clean up the car in the evening light before the sun (or vomit) sets, and Chris is kind of grateful his dad is too distracted to check in with him. He really needs to gather his thoughts and process this new revelation. Well, kind of new.
So, it's not like Chris had never thought about his dad and Buck being a couple. He's been confronted with people assuming they were for... well, ever since they met when he was seven. He's even encountered these assumptions a lot more now Theo has come into the picture. Wherever the four of them go most people think they’re a ready made family.
Just last week someone had commented on how much Theo ‘looked like his big brother’ when they were in line for a slide at the water park. Buck and Eddie hadn't heard, as they'd been too busy debating if Buck was being overdramatic for insisting they stop by the pharmacy on the way to the park in order to get factor 50 sunscreen, despite the detour causing them to get stuck in a 30 minute traffic jam. Chris had checked out during Buck's very detailed lecture on the importance of skincare from a young age.
The first time that someone had called Chris Theo's brother, Theo had corrected them immediately. But after the eighth one he had started to give up. Now he only corrects about half the assumptions. Chris had to give him props for that, it had only taken him about three assumptions when he was seven before he completely gave up on correcting people who thought Buck was his dad.
No one close to them ever made that implication though. Well at least no one currently close to them he thinks as a memory from the previous year pings into his mind with the force of an erratic toaster.
It was back when Chris was in Texas and Eddie had called him to catch up. His dad was sitting on the floor of the living room, his back leaning against the couch as he chatted about one of his latest rescues with the 118. At this time, his dad was mostly having to do the talking on these calls, and Chris would try his best to pretend it wasn’t interested and didn’t want to ask questions. Mid-sentence, Eddie’s head made a sudden turn, like a deer hearing a twig snap in the forest.
"Ah crap, I think that’s the oven timer.” The screen blurred for a moment as his dad moved his phone. From his new vantage point Chris could tell his dad had propped the phone on the shelf next to the mantel. His dad’s face popped back up on the screen, “I'll be right back, sorry. Don't go okay? I'll be right back I promise."
"Yes, Dad. Go make sure the kitchen doesn't burn down. That'd be embarrassing given your job."
He watched his dad shuffle off the screen and was left staring at his living room. At the blue velvet couch. He missed that couch. It’s so much comfier than his grandparents leather one which sticks to your thighs when you sit down after a long day in the hot Texan heat. He missed playing video games with Buck and his dad on that couch, and then seeing Buck asleep on it the next day after he inevitably has one beer too many to drive home. He misses his home.
He was ripped out of his nostalgic pining by what sounds like the front door slamming, and some muffled shouting from his dad. Chris turned up the volume and leaned in trying to make out what was happening. There were some distant murmurings like a radio with a broken speaker, then he heard Buck's voice. He was about to shout ‘hi’, when his ears finally tuned in to what Buck's saying.
"I find that kind of an offensive stereotype. I don't have the hots for every guy I see."
For a split moment Chris was enraged. What had his dad said now? But then he heard the second voice, not his dad.
"Don't you?" Tommy said, coming into frame and sitting on the couch right in Chris's eyeline. Chris clicked the mute button on his ipad.
"Obviously, otherwise it wouldn't have taken me so long to realise I was bi."
"Hmm," Tommy didn’t sound convinced, "he was very handsome though, and he was flirting with you."
"Look, I'm surrounded by handsome men. Doesn't mean I want to sleep with them all. I'd rather poke my eyes out with a rusty fork than kiss Chim. And have you seen Ravi? He is basically the most handsome man in our entire station and I'd never want to sleep with him."
"I'm not sure he's the most handsome man in your station."
"You have lots of male friends, you don't want to sleep with them. It's not like you'd want to sleep with Eddie." Buck did that thing he does whenever he says his dad’s name, the forward tilt of his neck and the over-enunciation pulling his teeth into a smile no matter what reason he might be saying the name.
"But did you not get jealous thinking I wanted to? I was there at that pick up game."
"I thought you wanted to replace me as his best friend."
"Best friend. Sure," Tommy said, voice as dry as ever.
Buck paused suddenly, like his brain had finally caught up with what Tommy had said, "Wait, you were implying you thought I was the most handsome, right?"
"Of course, babe."
Buck didn’t see it as he leant forward to peck Tommy on the lips, but Chris saw. The brief flick of Tommy’s eyes toward the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back, just going to make sure Eddie isn’t about to set off the fire alarm,” Buck had said leaning back and standing up. “I honestly don’t know why he insists on cooking when he knows I would be happy to do it for him.”
“Cooking is your love language after all.”
“Exactly.” Buck gave Tommy one of his oblivious beams and went off camera to the kitchen.
“Yeah, exactly,” Tommy repeated quietly to himself, only his tone was very different to Buck’s. There was a sardonic edge to it that had made Chris feel funny. He was fourteen, and knew enough to recognise the jealous sentiment behind those words.
Chris watched as Tommy leant back into the couch with a sigh, his nostrils flaring on the exhale. His eyes scanned the room, no doubt looking at the pictures on the mantel of Chris and his dad, and occasionally Buck too. Chris suddenly remembered where his dad had placed him. He let out a little squeak of panic as he hurried to press the end call button on his tablet. His heart hammering in his chest as he stared at the blank screen, praying he’d been fast enough not to have been noticed. He couldn’t tell if the funny feeling in his stomach was from the panic, or due to the conversation that happened just before. Some part of his brain niggled that there was more to it, but Chris really didn’t want to think about that right then.
He’d shot his dad a quick text after, pretending his wi-fi had cut out and promising to call him the next day. He then resolutely buried those ten minutes in the part of his brain that kept hospital beds, Kim’s, and giant ocean waves at bay.
So yeah, its not like Chris doesn’t know that a lot of people think Buck and his dad have something there. But the opinions of strangers and jealous boyfriends is very different to that of their two closest friends. He’d always assumed that if any of those assumptions had even an inkling of truth that his dad and Buck would have acted on their feelings by now. It’s been nine years for heck’s sake!
To think that there not only might be some truth to it, but also that he was the main reason they haven’t done anything about it makes Chris feel… well he’s not quite sure what it makes him feel, but it sure isn’t good.
Chris’s crutches clack softly on the floor as he paces, mind reeling with half-baked thoughts, unsure which emotion he should focus on right now. He settles on determined.
If he is the reason his dad and Buck are not together, he can fix that. Yeah, he can totally fix that… he just might need some help.
_
The next day Chris asks his dad to take him to school early. Eddie is confused at first but agrees when Chris makes up a lie about getting an SOS from his friend in the drama club begging for help painting their Midsummer Nights Dream backdrop. His dad kindly doesn’t point out that Chris is a terrible painter.
Chris was actually the one that sent an SOS, only not for painting. When he gets into school he makes a beeline to classroom 14A where he knows his friends are waiting for him. Sure enough when he arrives there are already three teenagers sitting atop one of the cabinets at the back of the classroom and chatting away.
One of them, a girl with a strong jaw framed by cropped dirty blonde hair, made dirtier with black streaks running through it, smiles as she spots Chris walking through the doorway.
“Chris! Hey! We got your message.”
“I gathered, Emily,” Chris says as he makes the last few steps to join them. “You wouldn’t be here before second period otherwise.”
Emily laughs, playfully reaching out a leg and pretending to kick him. She is wearing a mishmash of clothes that exposes her rushed awakening that morning. The cropped LA kings jersey under an orange denim jacket, with red dolphin shorts, and neon green converse is truly a look only she can pull off, and even then Chris thinks it's questionable.
“Let it show, how much I cherish our friendship.” Emily pats his arm jokingly as Chris settles himself onto a chair next to them. “Also, Bethan came by and dragged me out of bed.”
Emily points a finger at the other girl next to her. The girl, Bethan, is much less boldly dressed. She’s wearing a neat white polo and pleated pink shirt that complements the dark skin of her legs. Pulling back her coily black hair is a pink checkered scrunchie that ties the look together. She sends Chris a kind smile, kicking her sketchers against the cabinet door in a structured rhythm.
“So what’s the emergency?” Jake, the only other boy in the room, asks. He’s dressed very similarly to Chris in just a t-shirt and jeans. Only, unlike Chris’s plain gray t-shirt, Jake’s is a smattering of multicoloured tie-die. He’s also wearing a navy long-sleeved shirt underneath which, when paired with his floppy brown hair, really finishes off his skater aesthetic.
Chris clears his throat, not quite sure how to broach the topic. He’s not worried that any of his friends are going to judge any part of what he’s about to say. It’s LA after all, their school is diverse and Chris’s CP has actually been a great way to repel any potential friendships with intolerant people. Emily herself has dated half the girls on the soccer team and Jake’s brother is gay. It’s just weird to talk about the romantic relationship of a parent, period.
“So you know Buck?” Chris starts, even though he knows the answer.
Emily snaps her gum and nods. “Hot firefighter who the whole city watched get blown up in an engine months before he saved you and dozens of others from a tsunami? I’m familiar.”
“Also known as the guy who didn’t shout at me when I sneezed blood all over his new truck.” Jake smiles as if recalling a fond memory. “I too am familiar.”
“Your dad’s best friend who I believe you’ve talked about every day since we started high school together? I’m three familiar,” Bethan adds.
“I don’t talk about him that much,” Chris says affronted. Bethan and Emily share a glance that doesn’t go unnoticed by either Jake or Chris.
“You do, dude,” Jake deadpans. “I genuinely thought he was your pet dog for the first month of our friendship. Then your step-dad when I realised he was a human.” Jake says it jokingly, and Chris thinks he expects him to laugh along but instead Chris bites his cheek.
“That’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk about. Apparently I’m the reason he’s not.”
“Not human?” Jake pulls a confused face and Bethan rolls her eyes at him.
“No, dummy.” Emily flicks Jake’s forehead lightly. “He thinks Buck and his dad aren’t together because of him.”
Jake pulls his mouth into a little ‘o’ shape in understanding.
“And you think they want to be together?” Bethan asks sliding off the cabinet and into the desk chair next to Chris. Chris nods firmly.
“I overheard their friends talking about it.”
“Well fortunately for you, my favourite novel is Jane Austen’s Emma,” Bethan announces already digging into her backpack for a notebook. Emily tilts her head watching her.
“Isn’t Emma bad at matchmaking though?”
“You’ve read it?” Bethan sounds surprised.
“Seen Clueless,” Emily shrugs.
“Okay, well they all end up happy and with the right people in the end, and that’s what you want, right Chris?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then we will try our hardest to make it happen, dude,” Jakes assures him. “But uh, how do we do that?”
“First we need to determine our objectives and possible obstacles in achieving them.” Bethan cracks the spine of her notebook and slaps it onto the desk next to her.
“No, first this little operation of ours needs a name,” Emily counters, cracking her knuckles like the spine. “Hmm Buck and Eddie…”
“Operation Beddie!” Jake shouts, startling them all.
“Absolutely not.” Chris curls up his lip in disgust. He is already making a great sacrifice in helping his did with his love life, he does not need a reminder of the activities that come with it.
“Buddie?” Bethan suggests cautiously.
“But we don’t want them to be buddies,” Emily says. “How about we use ‘dad’ instead of Eddie… Ducky?”
Chris pulls another face.
“Well the only other option is Bad.” Jake throw up his hands exasperated.
“Oooh ooh ooh.” Bethan wiggles on her seat excitedly. “How about we combine all three into Operation Baddie.” She waves her hand in front of her like she’s revealing an invisible sign.
“I like that,” Emily nods. “A bit of edge and danger, and who doesn’t love a baddie?” She sticks out her tongue and does a little shimmy.
“Okay,” Chris agrees, watching in amusement as the girls high five each other.
“Baddie daddies,” Jake says raising his eyebrow suggestively.
“Don’t ruin this for us.” Bethan sighs as Emily helps her draw big bubble letters for ‘Operation Baddie’ across her notebook. “Now, lets draw up a plan.”
_
The first mission of Operation Baddie is kind of a disaster.
The idea had been to create a beautiful date-like experience that would let his dad and Buck see the romantic possibilities for themselves. They had convinced George, one of their classmates who owed Bethan a favor, to accept two coupons for a free lunch at a cafe he worked at. Two coupons that Emily had printed on the library computer and just so happened to only be valid on the next day Buck and his dad both had off work.
That was phase two of the mission though, phase one was happening right now in the park next to the cafe. Rosemont Avenue was notoriously difficult to park on, so they knew that Buck and his dad would need to park a block away and walk through the park to get to the cafe.
Chris is hiding behind the ice cream truck in said park with Bethan, doing their best to ignore the glares from a group of moms making a point of having to reach over them to grab napkins.
OP BADDIE 🌈💏💘
CHRIS: guys this isnt going to work
EMILY: shut up it will. trust us.
Chris can just about see Jake and Emily poking out their heads from behind a tree twenty yards away. He can’t see what they’re doing in detail, but he can see when another figure bursts out from behind them and scurries up to where his dad and Buck have just rounded a corner, stepping onto the gravel path between both groups of teenagers.
They are chatting normally and look casual as ever. His dad is laughing along with whatever Buck is saying and even though he is wearing his favorite aviators Chris just knows his dad has that tender look he shoots Buck when he thinks no one is looking. Chris has been noticing that look ever since he overheard Hen and Karen. He is honestly kicking himself that it’s taken him this long to understand what it meant.
Eddie’s laugh pauses as the figure from the tree, shrouded in a colorful headscarf, shuffles over to them and produces an object. Chris can’t make out what they’re saying, but he can see his dad start to say something, before the figure gestures and hands the object to Buck. The figure then gives a weird flourishing bow before shuffling off, leaving his dad to look at the object in confusion. From this angle Chris can’t see Buck’s face, but he can see his dad smile as Buck brings the object just handed to him to his face to sniff. That’s when Chris realises what the object is, a small bundle of red roses. He’s so zoned in on watching, as his dad says something that makes Buck throw his head back in laughter before they continue to walk along, that he doesn’t notice the strange figure from before making its way over to the ice cream van until-
“How dy’a think I did?” An old lady’s face pops up centimetres from Chris’s own.
“ARGH!” Chris flails his arms and takes a step back, wobbling as he loses grip of one of his crutches. Fortunately Bethan is quick enough to catch his elbow before he takes a tumble.
When Chris’s heart starts to beat again, and he actually gets a chance to look at the old lady, he can see its not an old lady at all.
“Alice?” Chris questions, as he watches the figure in front of him pull back the colorful scarves hanging over her face and rip off a gray wig to reveal a teenager with messy strawberry-blonde hair and a masterful painting of lines covering her face. She delivers a happy gap-toothed grin to Chris and Bethan.
“At your service Mr Diaz.” Alice salutes theatrically, smearing one of her forehead lines with the movement. “How did I do?”
“Well um... what did you do?” Chris asks, and Alice makes a dramatic face of affront.
“What did I do? Only my tasked job and more. Emily said you needed someone to help your dad woo his boyfriend. So I played a kind old lady,” Alice bends her back and changes her voice as she reenacts her scene, “just asking a handsome couple if they’ll take my last flowers of the day for only a dollar.”
“And what did they say?” Bethan clasps her hands together in excitement. They’ve all taken a step back from the ice cream van now there’s no chance of accidentally being spotted by his dad, and Chris has allowed himself to plonk onto a decorative boulder and stretch his legs out a bit.
“Well the latino went red and said ‘uhm ah uh thank you but we’re not couple’,” Alice says, doing a kind of spot on impression of his dad. “And the big one laughed and said ‘not with that attitude buddy’ and said he’d buy the flowers for himself cause he likes the smell of roses. He gave me ten dollars. I like the big one.”
“I thought the bow was perhaps a bit much,” Bethan chimes in. “But good job Alice.”
Chris nods in approval. “I can see why you’re president of the drama club.”
“Who were they anyway?”
“My dad and his… Buck.”
Alice takes a step back and looks Chris up and down appraisingly. “Oooh you have a DILF?”
Chris cringes and is about to comment on the interaction between his dad and Buck being less than ideal when Bethan interjects.
“And hopefully a soon to be step-DILF. But only if the rest of today goes to plan.”
Alice’s ears perk up at that. “There’s more? Pleeease fill me in on the drama. Jake gave me nothing!”
“So much more,” Bethan boasts smugly. This was mostly her plan after all. “They are about to go to a café for what they think is just a free lunch, but is actually the ‘lovers lunch special’.”
Chris wrinkles his nose, “I don’t think we agreed to call it that.”
Bethan rolls her eyes at that but keeps on talking. “Anyway, Emily and Jake have followed to watch, they should probably be there by now.”
As if on cue both Bethan and Chris’s phones buzz.
OP BADDIE 🌈💏💘
EMILY: OMG1”!
Chris frowns at his phone, but he doesn’t get a chance to even speculate before Jake’s picture pops up on his screen for a video call. He swipes to answer.
“Oh my god,” Jake hisses, his face taking up the screen briefly before the camera flips. Bethan gasps from where she’s peering over Chris’s shoulder.
“Holy moly,” Alice breathes out from behind his other shoulder.
Chris doesn’t quite gasp but his heart does start thumpa-thumping in his chest. The camera is pointing at a plume of flames emitting from a small bakery next to the cafe. The cafe. People are spilling out of the cafe and clothing boutique on either side of the bakery, and gathering across the road where Jake and Emily are standing.
“There’s someone in the upstairs flat!” Jake breathes, shakily moving the camera up to briefly show the second and third floors of the building. The windows are open, but Chris can’t see anyone in them right now. “They were shouting for help.”
“Your dads just ran round the back to see if there’s a fire escape.” Emily’s frantic voice comes through the speaker. “Oh my god oh my god.”
“You should get over here, guys. Emily where’s George? Did you see him come out.”
“No,” Chris says, holding Bethan back. “It’s better to for us stay back. If my dad and Buck see me they’ll be distracted. They need to focus on helping whoever needs it.”
“Oh oh I see George.” Alice points to the corner of the video and Chris just has a split second to see a frazzled looking teen running out of the bakery before a huge fire engine fills up the screen.
Chris gets the rest of the story through Emily and Jake’s commentary, and then later his dad and Buck’s recanting of the story whilst they’re in Buck’s garden.
Chris and his dad are helping Buck set up a giant connect four game they’d bought Theo, whilst Theo runs around them in circles showering them in bubbles. Chris can tell from his dad’s face that he already regrets letting Theo sneak the bubble gun into their Target cart that afternoon.
“The fire escape ladder was stuck, and she was trying to carry a one-year old so I think she was just very panicked. We just went up and got her.”
“Parkour.” Buck adds with a laugh.
It’s times like this when Chris realises just how much his dad and Buck downplay their heroism and the danger of their day-to-day lives. It’s not like Chris doesn’t know their job is dangerous. Hell, he’s seen his dad and Buck get injured enough times, and it’s not like he’s never freaked out about it before. He relegated his dad to dispatch for months because he got so freaked out at one point. But more than the anxiety of it, he is just overwhelmed by the feeling of pride. They really were good at being firefighters.
Now if only they could be as competent about their love life.