Work Text:
“Buck, I have a question.” That was the first thing Christopher said as soon as he put his seatbelt on in the jeep that day. “Ms Brown gave me this permission slip to fill in for the class trip to see Les Miserables next month, and it’s got a section for next of kin. I mean obviously it’ll be you and dad, but what should I put as in the ‘relationship to student’ part for you? Stepfather?” Buck almost choked on the water he had just put in his mouth. He turned to look at Christopher, who was either blissfully unaware that he’d just sent Buck on a brain melt, or he did notice and was acting like he didn’t care. Buck couldn’t be sure either way – he'd seen that kid on the stage at the school show last year, and he was really good. Maybe good enough to pull off the “indifferent teenager” act. God knows he had enough experience lately.
“Um, well, technically I’m not really...” Buck started.
“Yeah, but when you get married, you will be, right?” Christopher shrugged. Married? What? Buck thought. Sure, he knew Chris had a tendency of getting ahead of himself. Like way ahead. But this?
“Um, well I guess so, but that might be a while away, you know that, right? I love your dad, you know that, but we’ve only been together for like three weeks.” Buck pointed out. “I don’t think either of us are thinking about...that yet.”
“Bullshit.” Christopher replied, ignoring the look Buck gave him. The one that said, “do not let your father hear you say that!” Buck was willing to gloss over it, but Eddie...Eddie would probably try and ground him or something. And then that’d lead to an argument because Chris was fourteen after all, and it was so unfair of his father to try and punish him for that. “You’ve been together for seven years, Buck. You just didn’t know it.” He tried to explain patiently, sounding a lot older than his years. “And God knows why, because I was a kid and I knew you loved each other, so why did it take you so long to get your shit together?” He asked. Buck managed to stammer out a few syllables. He honestly couldn’t argue. He knew that Christopher was right. Mainly because, three weeks ago, when he woke up in the firehouse to find Eddie’s bunk empty, he instinctively knew to go up to the roof.
Three weeks ago, he found him there, sitting on a chair, staring at the sky, and he knew something was up the moment he laid eyes on him.
Three weeks ago, he walked over, leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead in reassurance, because although he didn’t know what was wrong, he knew Eddie needed to know he was still there.
When Eddie then stood up, stared into his eyes and pulled Buck towards him, brushing his lips against his like it was something they did all the time, it became apparent that it was something they should have been doing all this time.
When they’d come clean to everyone else (sooner than they would have liked, because Chim caught them kissing when they were making breakfast, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save himself), the overarching theme seemed to be “finally”.
So yeah, he couldn’t argue with Christopher because he was right.
“Chris, please don’t say shit. And yeah, OK, it’s been complicated with us, but that doesn’t mean we’re running off to get married anytime soon.” Christopher nodded and discreetly sent a text to his dad that just said “he’s not ready. Sorry. X”
After a few seconds, his phone beeped and he checked the message before shoving it in his pocket.
“That’s OK, love you. X” Eddie had text back, and across town, he shoved the velvet box back into their underwear drawer, where it stayed undisturbed for another week until it was joined by an identical one. Buck felt both of them and smiled to himself. Soon, he thought. Very soon. Seven years was long enough for both of them to wait any longer.