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The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.
The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.
A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.
(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)
“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”
-
Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.
A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.
He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.
Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.
Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.
“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.
“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.
Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.
Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.
Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.
A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.
“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.
Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.
“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”
“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.
“I’m ready, Buck!”
With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.
“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.
It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.
Eddie falls.