AN: Hey all! I'm currently porting over all my 9-1-1 fics from Ao3 (under the same name there) so that I can have them on both sites. I'm not sure how quickly I'll get it done, but expect six or so to be posted. This was penned last September while I was watching the Red Sox dominate the NY Mets and inspiration smacked me in the face. It's my first 9-1-1 fic and one of my favorite that I've ever written.

It's just tooth-rotting Buddie and baseball fluff because why not.

Anyway, there's mention of a few baseball players here, but the one reference you'll want to know is the "Joe Kelly Fight Club" one. The short of it (and feel free to google since porting images here isn't as easy as Ao3) is that Joe Kelly once played for the Red Sox and is now on the Dodgers and has been involved with a few on-field "fights" (honestly though the one with Tyler Austin is probably the most fight-fight he had) that spawned the "Joe Kelly Fight Club" era and the subsequent "Free Joe Kelly" era. Fight Club tee's were common a few years back and since we have a former fight club resident in the fandom I couldn't pass up the reference.

Also, the Padres and Dodgers don't actually play on the 09/18/21 but they do for the purpose of this fic!

Finally, we're pretending that COVID is over and gone at this point, mostly for my own sanity :)


It was a nice, warm, and sunny Friday morning in September—the kind of morning that started with French toast and the fancy chocolate milk that Buck spoiled his kid with, and copious amounts of whipped cream that he'd have to arm wrestle said kid for. Then the morning would continue outside, maybe at the park with or lounging on his back deck, soaking up the vitamin D and ignoring all the real-world problems that plagued his mind.

No stress over money, no annoying texts (that would go unanswered every single time) from his parent's passive-aggressively questioning his parenting skills. Just his kid, his best friend, existing together so well that he could practically live out his fantasy of a perfect little family with little effort.

Instead, he was standing beside his truck watching his best friend bounce on the balls of his feet between his jeep and Eddie's truck, exerting far too much energy for a man who had just come off a 24 that had seven car accidents and two tree rescues, all occurring after 9:00PM. Eddie was twenty minutes from kissing his son on the forehead as he ran out the door after Carla and then passing out, face down, on the nearest soft surface. Preferably his bed, but honestly the couch would make do as long as he got to sleep.

With a sigh and a look skyward to pray for strength from a God he only believed in on Sundays and in his Abuela's kitchen, Eddie pointed to his truck. "Get in, if you keep vibrating around you're gonna give me an anxiety attack or something. We can come back for your jeep because honestly, with all that jittering you'll probably drive off the road and I'm not turning back to rescue your ass from a mangled Jeep. I'm car-crashed out at this point, man."

The smile Buck sent him was like sunshine, sending a warmth through his chest and down through his fingers. He fought the heat that was flushing up his neck, and instead climbed into the driver seat.

"It's not my fault," Buck began, one hand gesturing as he slid into the passenger seat. "Abuela dropped off her half of your birthday gift last night and Carla has it all set up."

Eddie groaned as he put the truck in reverse. "What did I say about birthday gifts?"

"Keep it under $500."

If he weren't concentrating on backing up Eddie was fairly confident he would have smacked Buck on the shoulder. Or flicked his nose like a bad dog.

"That was a joke," he replied dryly as he pulled onto the road and began the journey to his house.

There was a long pause where the only noise in the cab of truck was the low thrums of whatever rock song was playing. Chancing a sideways glance at his friend, Eddie felt his veins chill slightly at the grin on the blonde's face.

That was Buck's 'I found a loophole and exploited it for my own benefit and there's nothing you can do about it' grin. Usually it was Chim on the receiving end of it, and rarely did it bode well for whoever was on the other side. Eddie could only imagine what Buck had gotten up to unsupervised and he prayed it wasn't another talking coffee-making-demon-machine.

There was only so much Hildy he could take in his life (and that was zero—he literally could not stand the AI).

"Buck..." Eddie said in warning, one eye twitching slightly as he fought the urge to scold the man like his kid.

"Edmundo," Buck replied as his grin grew wider.

"Evan, I swear to god if you bought a Hildy or something expensive—"

"I had a dollar limit! One that you approved!"

"Dios, Buck that was a joke! I never considered you'd spend $500—you know what, this is on me. I should have known better considering you have absolutely no impulse control." Eddie turned his attention back to the road, waving one hand dismissively at his passenger.

"I have excellent impulse control," Buck scoffed, ignoring Eddies noise of protest.

Buck in fact did not have good impulse control, and Eddie could fire off a dozen reasons at a moments notice, starting with the painted rock collection he bought of Instagram last week because Chris had said they looked 'kinda cool I guess' in passing.

"And," Buck continued, ignoring Eddie's pointed glare as the traffic began to go again at the stoplight. "When you add in your birthday with mine and Chris', you have one hell of a budget."

It took a lot of willpower not to veer off the road and into the row of parked cars beside them, Eddie noted. "You spent $1,500?!"

"Ish," Buck shrugged. "I don't count taxes in the budget."

"Taxes—Buck I—seriously?!"

Eddie was flummoxed. He was confused, a little angry, completely flattered, and uncomfortable all at once. He wasn't sure the last time he got a birthday present that wasn't a handmade card or "breakfast" in bed (the most Christopher could manage on a good day was cereal—hello unattended kid with a stove is a recipe for a fire—but he never quite mastered the timing on when he should make the cereal. Eddie ate it like a champ though, even when the soggy texture made him want to vomit.), let alone one that was so expensive.

He's pretty sure the most expensive gift to date would be the St. Christopher's medal Shannon gave him, but that surely hadn't been within the same price range of whatever mysterious gift Buck had gotten him.

"Yes," Buck replied in an easy tone. "It's been a chaotic couple of years. I almost died, then Chris and I almost died, then you almost died. Then you almost died again and COVID was a thing, then you got dumped two days out of the hospital—"

"At least it wasn't the same day," Eddie tossed back with no heat. And it was amicable, totally mutual, despite what Buck had thought. Even if Ana had brought it up, and even if she said the life of an emergency responder's spouse wasn't something she thought she could handle and then practically sprinted out of his house to make it to her school on time.

So maybe it wasn't so mutual, but honestly they'd taken things so slow that it wasn't really something he was hung up on. She was nice, but there wasn't much chemistry there.

And he definitely never had those warm, little fluttery moments in his stomach and in his chest when she smiled at him.

Really he probably should have broke it off long before getting shot, but if there was one thing Eddie was confident about, it was his ability to ignore the inevitable for as long as humanly possible. Repress, move forward and all that toxic masculinity that he'd been force fed for thirty years of his life.

He was working on it.

Buck rolled his eyes and snorted softly, pulling him from his thoughts. "Touché, dickhead. Anyway, I figured we all deserved something fun and when I brought it up to your Abuela she insisted she chip in."

Eddie opened his mouth and then snapped it shut as his brain processed what Buck was saying. He wasn't sure how he felt about his sweet, feisty, and mostly terrifying Abuela being in regular communication with his best friend. He honestly wasn't even aware she knew how to text beyond harassing him about spending time with her great grandson and lamenting when the market was out of the brand of masa she liked (which usually meant he and Chris where going to spend a whole day going all over LA to find the damn masa).

He vocalized as much, because he couldn't imagine a scarier duo than those two plotting together.

Buck's laugh echoed in the truck, curling around him like a soft hug. Despite his best-efforts Eddie found himself smiling, laughing along with the other man.

He wanted to bottle the emotion that came with that moment and store it away on a high shelf, only to be brought out like a nice vintage wine for special occasions. Just for a second he felt lighter, happier than he had in years, and he wanted nothing more than this moment to never end.

The moment did end, though, as they pulled into his driveway to see an eager Christopher bouncing on the front porch in a scarily accurate imitation of Buck. Beside him Carla waved from her perch, a fond smile on her face. She had a piece of cloth folded up in her hand, prompting a confused look from Eddie. Sensing his confusion she merely pointed to the shirt Christopher was wearing.

From behind him he heard Buck cackling in time with his son's giggles. Finally, Eddie zeroed onto the blue t-shirt, eyes reading the words.

Joe Kelly Fight Club

One blink turned into two, as Eddie turned around and shot his best glare at best friend. It was irrelevant he realized, because the younger man was doubled over with laughter. With a deep breath he turned back to his kid, scoping him into a hug.

"I can't believe you let Buck talk you into wearing that terrible shirt, mijo."

"He said it was an inside joke and that you'd love it dad!" Chris explained brightly.

Inside joke my ass, Eddie thought to himself. But he couldn't let his kid down, so with one hand firmly wrapped around his son, he freed the other to flip off his best friend. "I love it buddy."

It was good that Christopher still hadn't managed to understand sarcasm yet, though Eddie knew he was on borrowed time until he did. He'd take his kid being naive as long as possible, thank you very much.

"You've got a matching shirt too, boo." Carla said with a chuckle. Eddie carefully set Christopher back on the porch so she could swap the shirt he was wearing for the uniform top he was required to wear for school. "I left them on the couch so you and Buckaroo could wear them tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Eddie said, one eyebrow raised.

"Look at the time, Chris and I need to get on the road or he'll be late." Carla replied brightly, pausing to squeeze at his bicep before ushering Christopher to her car. Eddie watched as Buck intercepted the two of them to give the young boy a patented "Buck Hug" (Christopher has asked Buck if that was something they could patent after Easter Mass and Eddie couldn't stop laughing for at least ten minutes when Buck turned into a stuttering mess).

"Tomorrow?" Eddie asked again, watching Carla and his son pull out of the driveway. He raised an arm to wave at them, feeling Buck do the same at his side.

"Tomorrow." Buck responded with a nod before heading into the house.

"Buck!" Eddie called after the man, "That doesn't answer my question?"

"Was that a question? I thought we were just saying the word 'tomorrow'."

"Ay dios mio, give me strength." Eddie muttered to himself, once again glancing skyward. With a deep breath he braced himself, before heading into the kitchen where he heard Buck banging around.

"I don't have the energy to cook, so is cereal ok?" Buck asked him.

"It's kind of tradition, so yes." Eddie answered honestly. Seeing the confused look on Buck's face Eddie smiled, "Chris started it a couple years ago. His attempt at breakfast in bed, only he's not allowed to actually cook and he can really only manage cereal so he'd make me a bowl."

"That's so fucking adorable man," Buck said with a fond look.

"It is until you realize the cereal has been ready for an hour before you woke up."

"Oh god," Buck was gagging, and Eddie felt smug for unintentionally exploiting the younger man's irrational fear of soggy food.

"If my kid served you soggy cereal, you gotta eat it." Eddie said seriously, watching Buck swallow thickly and shake his head.

"Chris would understand,"

"With a broken heart, sure."

"You play dirty, Diaz." Buck snarked as he tossed the box of Cheerio's onto the kitchen island.

With a smug grin as his only response Eddie made quick work of devouring his breakfast. He rinsed the bowl and spoon, setting them on the fresh dish towel Carla had laid out. Beside him Buck followed suit, and soon the two were shuffling into the living room where three blue gift bags sat on the coffee table. A lone envelope was propped against the center bag, and from his vantage point Eddie could see the matching shirts on the couch.

"You're proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"You have no idea man," Buck said gleefully. "The one with the envelope should be yours, the other two are for me and Chris but you can open them just the same. We already know what's in them."

Eddie raised an eyebrow as he reached for the envelope. "Then why bag them?"

Buck shrugged, "Who am I to question your grandmother?"

Eddie tilted his head at that, consideringly before conceding that Buck had a point. Running his thumb under the seal of the envelope, he tried to brace himself in case this was one of those glitter bombs that Buck had been showing him videos of.

Thankfully there was no bomb, or glitter, but there was three thin pieces of cardstock nestled at the bottom. Carefully he pulled them out to investigate and immediately he felt his jaw drop.

Los Angeles Dodgers vs. San Diego Padres

September 18, 2021 07:10PM

Section 14, Row A, Seat 01

The other two were identical with the exception that they were for seats 02 and 03. Instantly he dropped the tickets, turning towards Buck with wide eyes. "That's too much—Buck, I can't—"

"You can," Buck said as he held up a hand. "And you will. You've wanted to take Chris to a game for a while now, and he's been asking since the restrictions have been lifted and COVID is mostly gone. Plus, this is a selfish gift because I get to tag along for this monumental first, and I scored some great seats to watch Mookie Betts in action again."

Eddie was still processing the fact that he had tickets to tomorrow's Dodger's game, tickets that were, according to the stub, $465 a piece and the fact that his best friend was a complete psychopath with no concept of saving any goddamn money.

Without a second thought he was pulling Buck into a crushing hug because honestly, he didn't know what to do in that moment or how to act or even what to feel because it was all too much. The gift felt like it meant something more than just tickets to a game, and in the deepest parts of his brain Eddie wanted nothing more than for this to mean something more than a baseball game.

He wanted this to be the beginning of his next chapter in life—a step towards happiness that he hadn't attained just yet. After being shot in the streets of LA he'd had a lot of time to reflect on where was in life, and it always circled back to the same thing: he wanted more. He wanted to come home to someone each night and be able to bitch about traffic with, to binge watch TV shows that weren't rated PG or animated with, or just be able to decompress from a long shift with them. He wanted someone to lean on when he had a bad day, someone to trust implicitly to be there even at his highest highs and his lowest lows, someone that wasn't going to run from him when things got tough.

Inevitably thoughts about that fictional person always pulled pictures of Buck to the forefront of his mind, and in the past few months he felt like the gravitational pull between them has intensified tenfold. Buck was always there to pick up the pieces, never prodding too much and never judging. Even with the aftermath of the fighting Buck stayed by him, let him stew in silence until he was able to fully express how fucked up he'd been during that time in his life. A lot of his sanity was owed to the younger man—the man who without pause would drop everything at a moments notice just to pick up his sick kid on his day off, or would drive nearly to San Diego to find the one thing Chris needed for a school project.

Buck had been so engrained in their lives for so long that he wasn't really sure when it all changed—but it did, and he wasn't sure he could go much longer without doing something about this dance they'd been doing.

Which is why, in the center of his living room he was barely holding back the tears that threatened to escape as he clung to the solid body against his because he was completely overwhelmed and he felt so loved. Loved in a way he hadn't before. Because this wasn't just a friend tossing cash at a lavish gift, this was someone who knew what it meant to share an experience with his son, someone who took the time and effort to find aisle seats to make it easier for Chris to navigate the rows of seating. This was someone who had gone through the effort to plan this with his family, someone who involved his kid at every step.

Shannon had never done that.

His parents, his siblings, his army buddies.

No one had ever put so much thought into something that could be so thoughtless, and yet here Buck was showing him time and time again how much the Diaz family meant to him.

"You haven't even opened the bag yet," Buck said thickly, his voice watery as he held in his own set of emotions.

Eddie gave the man one final squeeze before he stepped back, one hand brushing at his eyes. "You seriously didn't have to, Buck."

"I know," he replied, "But I wanted too. And full disclosure, Abuela got the ones in the gift bags, so really you should thank her for those."

The bag that was his held a replica game jersey, the name Kelly stitched on the back. Eddie felt his face split into a wide grin, "She may have bought them, but I have a feeling you told her what to get."

The blush on Buck's face was his only answer, so Eddie tore into the bag on the left of his. Inside the jersey wasn't the typical white and blue of the dodgers, but instead a dark brown with gold lettering on the back spelling out Tatis. The smaller Padres' jersey was clearly for Christopher, and once again Eddie felt his emotions going haywire.

"Does he know you got him a Tatis one?"

Buck shook his head, "He thinks we all got a Kelly one."

With a shake of his head Eddie pulled his friend into another embrace. Getting Chris into baseball was a two-year process, and he really only started to get interested about the same time that Fernando Tatis Jr. went viral last year with his grand slam celebration. Since then his kid had been obsessed with the young player and it helped that Buck was teaching him the stats side of the game.

Now his perfect almost-ten-year-old walked around parroting WAR and OPS and batting averages like some Sabermetrics guru. He and Buck had taught him how to keep score, and now anytime they had a free night to sit down and watch a game Christopher would dig out his score card booklet and stay glued to the TV for the entire game.

"He's going to flip, especially when he finds out those seats are behind the visiting dugout so he'll be able to watch Tatis easier." Buck explained.

"You're too good to us," Eddie whispered before pulling away to fold the jersey back up and repack the gift bag for Chris to open. "I'll never be able to repay you for what this means to me—to us."

Buck was smiling softly, eyes scanning over the older man's face. "Just letting me be apart of it… I—being around your family is enough."

"Buck," Eddie said softly, turning to face the man. Suddenly the floodgates had opened and words began to pour out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. "You aren't just around—you're a part of it. Have been since the day you took me to Chris' school to pick him up after the earthquake. You mean so much to us and—I just…I wish you understood, you know? What I said about you in the hospital? Not being expendable? I meant every word of it Buck, because I don't know what Chris or I would do if we lost you."

Eddie placed one hand on his best friend's face, caressing it light enough to run a thumb over the man's cheek to swipe away the silent tears streaming down his face. "I've never met someone who has devoted so much to my kid. Shannon never wanted kids, not even when we found out she was pregnant. I never considered myself father material—I mean, look at my relationship with my dad growing up. I was terrified to turn out like him. But I learned to be a dad, and Shannon tried to learn to be a mom but she wasn't set up for success. I was a terrible father, an even worse husband, and in the end it cost Chris a relationship with his mother. I've made amends for that, and I think had Shannon not died we could have established a routine that helped her and Chris, but…"

Eddie took a deep breath, watching as Buck leant into his touch, eyes searching his face wildly with his lips parted just so. The energy in the room was too charged—to emotional and Eddie felt like he was going to combust, but he had to get his off his chest. It had been locked away for so long, begging to be released that he couldn't push it aside anymore.

"Then you came in," Eddie continued, thumb moving to stroke Buck's birth mark, "and jumped in headfirst without a care that my kid was a little different from the rest. You go out of your way to accommodate him, to make his every dream come true. You didn't replace his mom, but damn if you haven't given him another dad to love. And he does, you know? Love you like a dad, because you do all the things a dad should do. And Evan—you've saved us in more ways than you realize, and fuck Evan…I need you to know how important you are to me. To us."

He watched Buck swallow thickly, catching his lips between his bottom teeth and all Eddie could think about in that moment was how soft they looked.

As if Buck was reading his mind, the energy in the room seemed to explode as the blonde man leant down, face tilting just slightly. He could feel the warm breath across his face and without hesitating Eddie met him halfway.

If he were being honest, he'd love to say it was every cliché in the world—that there was trumpets humming and fireworks exploding, but in reality the sensation of having Buck's lips softly pressed against his has fried his brain so much that he couldn't comprehend anything more than grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt to tug him closer. Buck was laughing against him, arms snaking around his torso to find purchase on his back and neck, but Eddie didn't care because this was real, and this was finally happening.

"Holy shit," he heard Buck whisper before he found himself pressed onto the couch, Buck towering over him with the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen on him.

"And I didn't even get any tongue action in there," Eddie remarked, raising one eyebrow challengingly.

Above him Buck groaned and let his head drop, "God if I wasn't so wiped from that shift I'd be making you forget all about how to be a snarky asshole."

"There's always tomorrow," Eddie offered sliding his hands up the other man's forearms gently.

"Yeah?" Buck asked, and for a moment Eddie could see just how vulnerable he was.

"Yeah," he confirmed, pulling Buck down for another searing kiss.


"Not that I care, but how the fuck did you afford those tickets?" Eddie asked later that afternoon as they cuddled in his bed. "It's not your turn for an illegal fight club is it?"

Buck's hair was smashed on one side and his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but that didn't stop the flash of mischief that appeared on his face at Eddie's questions. "Maddie and I are trust fund babies, and nothing pisses my parents off more than me ignoring that trust for practical use. Well, besides my general existence that is."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at that, and Buck had the decency to look abashed for the self-deprecation. "So what, they thought shoving money at you would fix everything?"

Buck shrugged, "I think it was their way of providing for us without actually having to provide for us—their whole parenting thing ended when Daniel died, so the next best thing was to make sure we had a safety net I guess. I refused to touch it for the longest time, but then I decided that I should use it for fun because fuck them, right?"

"I mean, it's your money." Eddie reasoned, using his fingers to trace around the tattoo on Buck's ribs.

"Blood money," Buck muttered before rolling over. "Enough talking, I do believe I was promised tongue action earlier."

"And I'm pretty sure I said there's always tomorr—" Eddies reply was swallowed by Buck's mouth on his, the younger mans teeth nipping lightly at his lower lip in a demand for attention. Eddie smiled into the exchange before he flipped them in the bed so that he could tower over the blonde man.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Buckley."

Buck gazed up at him in a challenge, "I'd say the same to you too Diaz, you are closer to forty than I am."

Eddie lowered himself flush against Buck's body before leaning down to nip at his jaw, spreading kisses along the stubble until he was mouthing at the man's ear. "Stamina has never been an issue for me," he whispered, reveling in the shudder he felt run through Buck's body.


"Did you grab my signs, Buck?" Chris asked as his dad helped him down from the back seat of the truck.

"Yep, and the bag we packed earlier." Buck confirmed, holding up the sign and bag for Chris to see.

"What about the batting practice tickets?"

Buck nodded again, "On my phone—Maddie emailed them this morning so we're good to go."

"Well, except for one thing." Eddie interjected before leaning back into the cab of the truck to retrieve the three gift bags. They'd opted to wait to change into the jerseys until they got to the game since Christopher had insisted they needed to grab In-and-Out before the game. Animal style, of course.

"The jersey's!" Chris exclaimed before slamming a hand over his mouth. "Oops!"

Buck laughed, "Don't worry buddy your dad's already seen them so you didn't spoil it."

"Then why are they still packed?"

Buck shrugged, "You Diazes are weird, how should I know?"

Eddie huffed and shoved Buck's gift bag into his chest, "I'll show you weird," he whispered into the man's ear suggestively. The resulting blush had him smirking as he pulled the jersey on over the white v-neck.

A loud shriek of excitement cut off whatever retort Buck had at the ready.

"Tatis!?" Chris was in awe, gift bag laying forgotten at his feet as he stared at the jersey in his hand in wonder. He turned his attention to Buck, "You got me a Tatis jersey?"

"You're Abuela did—she knew he was your favorite."

"Bullshit," Eddie muttered before stepping over to help Chris into his jersey. "Do you want it buttoned?"

Christopher nodded eagerly, "I can do it!"

"Now that's settled, are we good to go?" Buck asked, and Eddie nodded, glancing up at his friend—boyfriend. He wasn't really used to that yet, at least not in his head. Part of him wondered if this was all a fever dream that would get broken up by the alarm at the station.

Buck flashed him a smile, tugging on a Dodgers hat (backwards, because he knew it was a weakness of Eddie's after yesterday's late afternoon cuddle session) and locking the truck for Eddie.

It was going to be a long game, and Eddie couldn't wait.


Chris was obsessed with the stadium and demanded that the next time they came they did the stadium tour. Because he literally couldn't say no to the child, Buck had eagerly agreed and promised to look for tickets in the spring before it got too hot.

"Or, we could maybe catch a game at a different stadium. We could drive up to San Francisco, or head out to Oakland to see the Colosseum before they move."

"Oh! Or down to San Diego?" Chris asked, face morphing into the puppy dog expression that Buck had taught him.

With a warry glance to the blonde (who was studiously ignoring him in favor of watching the Padres take the field for batting practice), Eddie conceded, "Actually that could be fun. The stadium isn't far from the Midway—"

"We have to go to the Midway, Eds." Buck interjected without looking away from the field.

"I guess that's settled. Maybe we can go in May, once you're out of school, mijo?"

"Yessss!" Chris raised one first in the air in celebration and Eddie was instantly regretting the Coke he'd let the boy have.

"Just wait until the cotton candy vendor comes running down the stairs," Buck muttered beside him.

"Maybe he'll crash and sleep well tonight?" Eddie offered optimistically.

Buck turned, grabbed his belt buckle, and in the most exaggerated Texas accent he could muster winked at Eddie, "Bless your heart."


By the seventh inning stretch the Dodgers were losing 6-4, but they didn't really care. Chris was having the time of his life watching the game from their seats, perched between him and Buck. He knew all the batting stats for every Padres player that came up to bat, and more often than not could call exactly what pitch each pitcher was going to use.

"It's so obvious Dad, it's just stats." Chris explained like it was the simplest concept in the world for a nine-year old. Eddie was pretty sure he couldn't spell statistics at that age, but Chris could literally calculate WAR in his sleep.

"He's down in the count," Chris continued, eyes watching the batter's box intently, "but the batter chases anything that's down and away, so he's probably going to go with a sinking fastball—" and just like that strike three was called on a sinking fastball.

"I think we need to get you into scouting kid," Buck said from his side before standing to help Chris into the aisle where he could dance along to whatever silly dance they had on the jumbotron. Eddie assumed it was something from TikTok since Buck also seemed to know it, but he was content to grab his phone and video the two of them acting silly.

"Excuse me," a voice came from in front of Eddie.

Eddie turned, preparing to apologize for being in the way but instead was greeted to an older man who was wearing an usher uniform.

"If you want, I can get a picture of you and your boys." The man offered. "We've got a little time with the pitching change, so if you'd like I can sneak you down by the dugout for a close up shot of the field."

"Yeah, uh—yes. That would be amazing, let me just…" Eddie said before turning to grab Bucks attention. He pointed to his phone and then down to the field while the usher patiently smiled and waved at Chris.

Buck seemed to understand by the way his face lit up, and in a quick motion he'd scooped up a giggling Chris. They followed the usher down the stairs and into the dugout club reserved section. Buck sat Chris on the concrete stair, dropping to a knee beside him while Eddie maneuvered to the other side.

At the usher's signal they all smiled, but Eddie couldn't help but look away from the camera to gaze at the duo by his side. There was a commotion to his left near the dugout, and Eddie assumed it was time for the inning to resume, so he moved to grab Chris to head back to their seats.

Instead one of the bat boy's was gesturing towards him and Chris, a ball in his outstretched hand. "These guys wanted to give you a ball—they love the signs."

"They've seen my signs?" Chris asked happily, eyes lit in excitement.

The bat boy was nodding, "They're pretty good, plus you're like the only Padres fan in that section so they took notice with your brown jersey, kid."

Chris was too shocked to speak as Eddie grabbed the ball from the bat boy and handed it to his own kid. Eddie was in a similar state, not knowing what to say but thankfully Buck was already thanking him and the dugout before grabbing Chris and ushering Eddie back to their seats.

When they finally got settled back in Chris was still staring down at the ball which was littered with tiny scribbles that Eddie finally realized had been autographs. With a glance at Buck he could see the pride in the other mans eyes, and suddenly Eddie had the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

He leant over his kid and pulled Buck in by the collar of his shirt to give him a quick peck, "Thank you so much for this, Buck. Seriously, I can't imagine a better first date."

Buck was blushing and Chris was protesting the public display of affection. "Gross dad, I'm right here!"

And, because he was a father and his number one goal in life besides keeping his kid alive was embarrassing the shit out of him, Eddie pulled Buck into another quick kiss.

"Dad!" Chris cried again, stretching out the syllables of the word. "I'm glad you two finally figured it out but eewww."

Buck smiled fondly down at the boy, ruffling his hair with one hand and swiping the ball with the other so he could inspect the autographs better. "Give it a couple years kid and you'll be wanting to kiss people too."

"No kissing until your married kid," Eddie stated firmly before turning back to the game.

"Married?!" Chris said indignantly. "How can I marry someone without kissing them? What if they're a bad kisser?"

"They'll learn," Eddie shrugged. "Besides aren't you a little young to be thinking about marriage?"

"Uh, you brought it up dad." Chris replied with a whole-body eye roll. "If anyone should be talking about marriage it's you two."

Beside his kid Buck choked on the beer in his hand, sending foam sputtering out from his lips. Without hesitating Chris reached up and patted the older man on the back, "It's okay kid. Small sips."

Eddie tossed his head back and laughed heartily as the umpire called strike three, ending the seventh inning. He couldn't imagine a more perfect night—he had his boys by his side, Chris was terrorizing his boyfriend, and Buck was actually his.

Finally, he thought, I think I've got what I've been looking for.